#2)chin up to the upper lip (it being visible over the cloth)

[artsyaprilmr]

one thing about me... i will never stop drawing women with beautiful big brown eyes

[piratesfromspace]

The Nightmare (Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader)

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: Reader has a pretty awful and vivid nightmare involving Din, Cobb and them being kidnapped. Comfort ensues.

This story is part 3 of my series “A Mandalorian, a Marshal, and some complicated feelings”. You can read part 1 here: “Two saviors and some hope” and part 2 here: Five Times. I strongly advise you read them first!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: detailed description of violence, blood, threat of sexual violence (but no actual), threat of slavery

A/N: Neutral pronouns for reader but they are perceived as feminine by the villain (no specific description of Reader's body). English is not my native language, please be kind. Fic also available on ao3.

MASTERLIST

Part 1   Part 2

“On your knees.”

You fall on your knees on the cold steel floor of the ship. You don’t really remember how you ended up here, the only thing that you know is that the hand that pushed you down is now grabbing a fistful of your hair to have you raise your head. It’s an order more than an invitation, the pressure on your neck on the brink of becoming unbearable at any moment.

Your captor is towering above you, dark-blue skin and mean red eyes looking at you with something dark in them. You struggle against his grip, but it’s useless and you know it. Your hands are tightly bound behind your back. You’re already hurting all over, the taste of blood and despair in your mouth. He finally lets go of your hair, and your head falls limply on your chest.

“I told you I couldn’t wait to put a new chip in your brain, right? Well let’s get on with this.” You can guess the cruel smile on his face, the disturbing way he seems to be enjoying all of this way too much. “Hold her down.”

Two of his thugs grab your shoulders and upper arms, preventing you from going anywhere. You feel his own hand grab your neck, and the touch of his bare slimy skin against yours sends a chill of disgust through your whole body. The cold device bumps into your neck, just above his fingers, and as a wave of terror hits you, you feel a sharp pinch followed by an awful sensation of burn slowly spreading in your nape.

“So? Wasn’t that bad, was it?”

He removes the metallic device and lets it fall on a nearby tray with a theatrical clatter. Tears are filling your vision with the realization that all you’ve done up until now, trying to survive and build a new life for you, all of this was for nothing. You’re a prisoner again, with a freaking tracker chip stuck to your skull.

“Now, what else did I promise back in this small alley…” He circles you slowly, like a freaking loth-wolf playing with his prey before killing it - or worse .

“Oh yeah, I think I mentioned your two little friends.” He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at his face. His pupils are blown wide, two orbs of blackness in a glowing sea of lava-red. “So I think we should welcome them then, what do you say?”

It’s like he’s speaking about actual friends, and his casualness becomes more and more terrifying as you’re living, helpless, your own demise.

With a quick move of his hand, he signals his crew and a few seconds later, the door in front of you slides open. Your jaw goes slack as you watch half a dozen of the slaver’s men bringing in the Marshal and the Mandalorian. Despite their hands bound and the chains linking their ankles, even visibly exhausted by what should have been a long and gruesome fight, the criminals are having a hard time containing them both. They are coerced into kneeling, strongly held back by your captor’s henchmen, facing you.

“No, no, no, no...” it’s a whisper at first, but it becomes a scream you cannot hold back. Through your tears, you can see the dried blood in Cobb’s beard, the mess of mud and dark unknown fluids on the rare pieces of beskar still on Din’s body. You're almost relieved to find he still has his helmet on, even though the black glass of the visor is visibly cracked.

A blue hand is suddenly splayed across your mouth and chin, shutting you up.

“Shh shh, that’s how you say hello to your friends? Not very nice!”

In a reckless reaction, you withdraw from his hold in a quick move of your head and bite his nearby fingers with all the strength left in you. He jerks back, cursing, holding his injured hand while a few droplets of blood trickle on his clothes. You don’t have the time to savor your little victory before the strength of his blow forces your face to the side. You kinda knew there was going to be a backlash, and you don’t regret it. Your cheek was already bruised anyway.

“You’ll regret this.” he growls through gritted teeth.

You hear him rummaging behind you, probably trying to swipe his hand clean from the blood on it. Good luck with that.

“Well, where were we? Oh. Right. My mark. Bring me my tool.” he snaps his fingers impatiently and one of his goons brings him what looks like a branding iron. The end of it is star-shaped, and you can see sparks running around the metallic edge, ready to burn his mark into your flesh.

You start trashing against the hands that hold you down, a vain attempt to escape what’s coming next. You’re not the only one struggling though, Cobb and Din trying to break free as well.

“Let them go!” Mando’s voice, usually steady, sounds desperate “The bounty put on my head by the Hutts, I bet it’s high enough, you don’t need to keep them. You don’t need to keep him either.” he says with a nod of his head toward Cobb. “If you free them, I’ll promise I’ll let you deliver me to whoever offers the highest reward.”

“Din, no, please...” Cobb seems to be on the verge of crying.

The Chiss seems to be gauging the offer. The smile on his face grows bigger and he finally speaks, looking thrilled.

“That’s an interesting offer, Mandalorian.” his smile changes into a mockery of a pout. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. See, I’m sure I’ll be able to get a very good price for your girlfriend here. Look, almost as pretty as a Twi’Lek! She’s worth some credits for sure... even more so if I trade her as a pleasure slave.” He says this part with a nasty grin, deliberately taunting the men who were supposed to protect you, like you weren’t even there. For him it’s not about you, it’s about getting revenge for that one time they freed you. You’re just a pawn in his little game. Anger joins the atrocious cocktails of emotions you’re already feeling. Of course, both Din and Cobb battle against their shackles and the men trying to contain them, letting out threats you all know they can’t follow up on.

“Enough of this.” The Chiss barks. “Now before we begin, one more thing, Mandalorian. I would not want for you to miss anything because of a broken visor.” He turns to the two guards in the back of the room. “Remove his helmet.”

You shriek, and as unholy hands grab the beskar, you close your eyes. Cobb’s yelling is breaking your heart, you hear metal clatters, fabric being ripped, the muffled thud of a blow in the gut. You squeeze your eyes even harder, you don’t want to know what’s really happening, don’t want to see Din’s face, not like this. Of course you had already imagined seeing what he looked like, but on his own terms, when and if he wanted to, not forced by some evil brute.

“Oh come on, open your eyes woman, I’m sure you want to see.” You shake your head. Your captor starts losing patience. “Open your eyes, or you won’t have any left” he threatens, his fist grabbing your hair again.

“Did you hear what I said?”

He tugs so painfully at your scalp, you’re so scared, you’re so lost, you finally give up and open your eyes. Your vision is blurry but your gaze falls immediately on Din’s face. He’s handsome despite the sweat and the dark traces of blood smearing his face, features almost like you had imagined them. He’s looking at the floor, livid, and you can’t even fathom the hurt and the shame of the humiliation to be exposed like this, on top of being unable to prevent both of his lovers from getting hurt.

“Yoo too, look at him!” Your tormentor is next to Cobb now, almost strangling him, trying to make him follow his order. The Marshal makes a series of desperate noises, gasping for air, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Stop it, please! Please...” The distress in Din’s voice is gut-wrenching. It’s the first time you hear him plead for mercy.

“It’s okay, Cobb, do as he says, it’s okay, I swear.” Cobb probably knows it’s not okay, and that the reassuring words are nothing but a way for Mando to try stopping the arm done to him. But he has no choice than to listen and he finally looks at him.

You can read the word sorry on Cobb’s lips when his eyes meet Din’s.

“You all are a bit stubborn, for Maker’s sake.” Your captor looks slightly upset. “But we’re not done yet.” He comes back behind you, and takes his branding tool while the guards holding you slice open the back of your shirt with a vibroblade. You can hear the device buzz to life behind the protests of your two beloved and the voice of the Chiss.

“You better stay still for your own sake.”

You can’t think of a reply because the tip of the iron touches your skin, just next to your right shoulder blade, and the pain eats away all your thoughts. It hurts like hell and more. You try to squirm away from the device in a gut-reaction. But it’s worse. You want to scream but there is not enough air into your lungs and it feels like you can’t take any more breaths. Your vision is filled with dark spots and you’re sure you’re gonna faint any second.

That’s when you wake up.

With a small gasp, drenched in sweat, out of breath. The room is dark and quiet. You silently slip out of the bed, heading for the refresher and trying not to disturb the two men peacefully sleeping next to you.

You put your head under the faucet, letting the cold water run on your face, fingers rubbing your skin, like you’re trying to erase the memories of the nightmare.

Kriff, what is wrong with me?

There is a soft knock on the door.

“You ok sweetheart?” Cobb’s voice is still hoarse with sleep.

You let the door slide open to reveal your Marshal, tall and handsome with his messy grey hair. The familiar figure warms your mood more than you expected.

“Just a nightmare.”

“Like the usual ones?”

“Not… really.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Mmm” it’s not a yes, neither a no.

“Want to go back to bed?” he tries tentatively.

“I don’t think I can sleep right now. The suns are gonna start rising anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m not sleepy either.” you know it’s a blatant lie because Cobb had been yawning non-stop since the beginning of your conversation.

“I’ll go make us some caf. And then we can even watch the sunrise if you’d like.” He adds with a kind smile. You appreciate the offer nonetheless.

“Join me when you want, honey.” he turns his heels to leave but you stop him in his way.

“Cobb?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have a hug?”

He lets out a chuckle and takes you in his arms. You melt into the warmth of his body, your head resting on the solid plane of his chest. He leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

When you join him, he’s already on the small deck in front of his house, and he hands you a steaming mug of sugary caf. You sit on the bench, next to him, and he wraps an arm around you, his hand resting on your waist. You sip on the hot drink, tongue almost burning, letting it ground you in the moment. The air is just warm, not as cold as during the night, not yet as scorching as during the day. The two suns are lazily rising above the horizon, the sky all sorts of pinkish colors.

“You know, this nightmare, it was… It felt so real.”

He hums in approbation, doesn’t want to interrupt you.

“Remember when I told you what he said that night in Mos Eisley?”

No more details are needed for him to understand who and what you’re talking about.

“Well, everything he said… it happened in my nightmare. He captured me. And you, and Din.”

“Hey, it’s over now, ‘was just a bad dream. I won’t let anyone hurt the people I love, I promise.”

He tucks you closer against him and you know he means it. You clear your throat, hesitant to go on.

“The worst wasn’t the pain, wasn’t even when he mentioned he would sell me to a brothel or something, it was when he removed Din’s helmet and he forced us to watch.”

You needed to let this detail out of your system. You leave out the part involving a star-shaped mark, at least for now, because you know Cobb is wearing one on his back and you don't want to bring back more bad memories.

Cobb’s fingers are clenching against your hips. He sighs.

“I’m sorry you had to experience this, love. I know how dreams can seem so vivid, it’s legit traumatizing. Please wake me up next time, I don’t care if I’m having the best sleep of my life, I want you to feel safe, always. I’ll do anything you need me to.”

“I know.” you whisper, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

You take another sip of the delicious liquid out of your cup, and as the light of the two suns is slowly casting the streets of Mos Pelgo into an orange glow, warming up the sand and your skin, you feel like the shadow of your nightmare is finally retreating, burnt away by the new dawn.

[cedricslover]

Troubled pt.4

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Fem! Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.5 Pt.6

Series summary: A very unfortunate situation happened and it resulted in very unfortunate events. You had everything, a good boyfriend that everyone dreamed of, best friends that you got in a twin pack, and a loving school. It was a calm before a storm and in your sixth year the storm came. You faced the consequences your deceased parents run from, you were only left with your only family, your little brother. What would you do in order to save him? The answer is, everything, even if it means joining a terrorist group of wizards, joining THE DEATH EATERS…

Chapter summary: you fell into a slump after the break up, but thankfully you had friends to somehow lighten up your mood. Not until you found out the true identity of Professor Moody, everything went downhill, just like you expected.

Note: there is no specific house:))) i can make requests if y’all have one. 

Warnings: angst, hair being pulled, mentions of cheating, slight violence (for self defense)

Word Count: 4.6k

The week went by and the next thing you knew it was already the end of the winter break. 

"Of course" you scoffed as you stood up and opened the door, "Phoebe" you said your roommate's name with boredom. "It's the last day of winter break, are you sure you're not goin' out?" She asked you-again.

"I told you. No. I'm just staying here until classes start" You declared and walked towards your four post bed, leaving the brunette girl standing at the doorway. 

"So what really happened?" She started bugging you again. She never runs out of questions ever since the Yule Ball.

"What happened is that you shut your mouth and go wherever you want" you covered yourself with the blanket while laying down on your bed. You just wanted peace, is that too much to ask. No question, no noise, because that voice in your head was loud enough. 

"Fine." She finally gave up, "I know what you're doing, and I'm sorry. I just want you to know that I'm here" she said before you heard her footsteps getting far. 

You removed the blanket that covered you and sat up, slowly, the guilt crept inside you. The past days you just ignored everyone, you easily get annoyed, and the farthest place you just went was your house common room. 

You cried your eyes out the whole day whenever your roommates left the dorm, after a day of not eating anything they decided to bring you food every now and then from the Great Hall. But you still became a bitch. 

Inhale, hold, exhale, you tried relaxing yourself. Getting a grip from your intrusive thoughts, locking them up in that vault in your head. 

"For a day" you told yourself while looking at the mirror you swallowed excessively. You look terrible, not gonna lie. Your hair was messy and starting to get greasy, dark circles, and obviously dehydrated. 

So, you started with a shower, been there for an hour, scrubbing your skin and scalp. Maybe the scrubbing can remove even just a little bit of your demons, but it was ineffective. 

While looking for a sweater to wear you managed to pick up Cedric's sweater. The sweater you wore during your first anniversary.

You smiled but immediately faded, oh yeah, you two broke up. 

But isn't it just decent to bring this sweater back? You felt absolutely insane, there's a pile of Cedric's clothes in your wardrobe and you just want to give his sweater back? 

Oh please.

"Ced, can I have this?" You turned around to your boyfriend as he went out of the bathroom, water dripping from the ends of his hair and his upper body was visible. You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him when you felt your cheeks burning. 

He got this Adonis body and who wouldn't dare to blush if it was showcased in front of you.

"Absolutely love, you can have that" he said and hugged you from the back. 

"You don't mind if I steal your clothes?" You laughed and looked at him. "No. Besides, you're not stealing them" he kissed your shoulder and rested his chin on it "if you wanted to steal it, you wouldn't ask my permission" his chuckle was music to your ears. "And next time don't even bother to ask. What's mine is also yours. Alright?" He kissed the top of your head and started to look for clothes to cover his jaw dropping body. 

"Is that so? Okay. What's mine is also yours too then" you smiled and laid down on his bed while he got dressed. 

"Hmm?" Cedric crawled to you and stopped when he's on top. You smiled and scrunched your nose as his scent brushed your nose. "You smell so good." You groaned "-Merlin I fucking love you" he laughed at your statement. 

"I fucking love you more" his husky voice filled your ears before his lips pressed onto yours.

You were unconsciously smiling as you reminisced. Funny. How all of it will be mere memories, just because of this bloody mark. 

After you got dressed, you packed Cedric's clothes into a bag. Maybe you could ask someone, his roommate, friends, or just someone to give him this. You can't just let his things sit in your place, it'll be hard. 

"Y/N?" You heard Alice's voice as you stepped outside your dorm, you turned your head to the blonde girl who was standing a few feet apart from you. "Come here babe" she said and opened her arms which you occupied. "It's so nice to see you not looking miserable" she laughed and caressed your face. 

"We'll always be here okay?" She smiled sweetly at you. 

No you won't. 

But you chose not to say it.

"Phoebe!" You called your roommate who was out in the snow, snogging with a girl. Yeah, she's gay as fuck.

"Y/N?!" Her eyes widened as she looked at your direction. You waved your hand and smiled at her, as if it was the cue for her to come over.

"Wait, is that the girl you took to the ball?" You started teasing her, she turned scarlet and looked at the girl who was waiting for her. "Yeah…" she answered awkwardly that made you smile. Everything seems to be doing fine after she came out. You were so proud. 

"If you're so head over heels for her then go back there mate” you mocked the boys who always make fun of her “I'm fine, I'm just going to look for the twins while you-" you tried your best not to laugh "snog".

You walked right after and left Phoebe whose lips were curled just like her hair. She seems happy to be worried for you. But before you continued, you called her again, “Fibs... I’m sorry” you looked at her apologetically and she answered you with a sweet smile and a nod.

You walked around the castle, into the Great Hall, courtyard, some classrooms, but you can't find the twins. The last time you saw them was during the Yule Ball. Yeah, the Yule Ball that you didn’t even enjoyed.

"Are you going?" Cedric asked you when you started taking the path to your common room. 

You turned around and forced a smile at him "Yeah, just say that I'm not feeling well" it felt like every word that comes out from your mouth backfires and turns into a single needle piercing your throat. 

"Oh. Okay" he nodded without energy, it must be hard for him too. It happened so fast. This wasn't meant to happen. He wasn't supposed to know this early, but here it is. 

He started walking back to the Great Hall where you can hear the commotion, people having a great time, dancing, singing, laughing, while you will most likely spend your night in your dorm, crying in your dress that Molly bought, ruining your makeup.

"Ced" you called him one more time and he immediately turned to you, like he was expecting you to say something, something impossible. That it might be a joke, or maybe you two can do something, but if he wanted for it to be a joke, you wanted this to be a dream. All of this.

"Merry Christmas" you smiled again, but this time, it wasn't forced, it was genuine. You saw a tear left his eye before you turned your back. And by every step, you felt your heart being pulled away from you, your life, and your peace. 

"Lee!" You called the attention of the black boy with dreadlocks who was walking around the courtyard. "Have you seen the twins?" You asked as he approached you. He just shrugged as an answer and apologetically smiled right after. "It's not my business but still, you're my friend so I'll tell you. They're mad. They're probably avoiding you" Lee tapped your shoulder before he walked away. 

You were standing there, dumbfounded, full of questions. Why are they mad? Did you do something? Where are they? Is it a prank? 

And again, the voices in your head won't stop. Everything is not getting better. "Shut up" you didn't realize you said it with your voice and not just in your head. Thankfully, it just came out as a whisper. 

You hugged yourself as the cold breeze went by, but you still decided to look for the twins. 

"Fred? George?" You called on one of the secret rooms, this is where you three often hang out, you saw the box of fireworks properly labeled, you can say that the twins are more organized to their products than school stuff.

You roamed your eyes at the room, it was big enough for a bunker bed to be placed, there's also a corner for the twins' products, there was also your corner, filled with snacks, some stuffed animals you like so much, a picture of your family, and your most cherished guitar. You touched it and felt the tip of your hands travel the strings, you missed playing it, the last time you played was before your parents died. It was your mother who taught you how to play. 

"Mum it's so hard. Especially the F chord. I'm giving up." You whined to your mom as you two sat at the front porch, she was knitting a neck warmer for you to use. 

"Sweetie, of course it would be hard." She stopped and looked at you, you both definitely have the same eyes. "But it's a process. Not everything would be easy, but don't be too hard on yourself. Come here, take a break" she reached for you and you sat beside her as she wrapped the neck warmer on you.   

"You like it?" She asked you while you observed and touched the neck warmer, its soft texture, its heat. It would always feel like home while you wear this. You raised your head and smiled "I love it".

You miss your mum. You touched the neck warmer you were wearing and felt it. Maybe. You can feel her. See her again. But the only thing you felt was the fabric, no mum.

"Y/N?" You heard the twins said and you turned around. They saw your eyes that were on the verge of crying. 

"Something wrong?" George asked with full concern, they were both looking at you, confused, sad, and concerned. 

But without a word you hugged them. Tight. Then you started crying. Like a little girl crying to her parents, saying that someone stole her candy. 

"Shhh. 's alright. We're here" You heard Fred say while he caressed your hair. Meanwhile George was tapping your back. They were doing this to calm you down. 

"I miss my mom" you finally talked between your sobs. "I miss her" you wailed again. 

“What? We’re not mad” George stated as you three were laying down the bunker bed, your feet touching the ground while you three stared at the upper part, there were drawings you and the twins made when you were in your first year. 

“Lee told me you two were. Maybe he’s referring to another kind of mad” you stifled a laugh. 

“We’re not THAT mad too!” Fred exclaimed. “Alright. If you say so” you just answered. 

“Is that supposed to be a dragon Fred?” you pointed to a drawing, the parchment was getting more old but the drawing was still there. It was something that has wings and a tail. You felt him nod. “Not a lizard with wings?” you laughed and George didn’t even try to hide his laugh too. 

“Aren’t dragons just lizards with horns, wings, and fire breath?” Fred asked while you and his twin were still laughing. “Wait-” you muttered when you realized what he just asked. 

“THAT WILL MAKE TOTAL SENSE!” you three said in unison with wide eyes, still staring at all your awful drawings as a child. 

“Should we ask Charlie?” you stood up “Accio parchment” and the parchment went straight to your hand. “Is there a quill here?” you looked around, not bothering to stand. “Accio quill” you heard George and the next thing there was already a quill and ink in his hand. “Here” 

Dearest Charlie,

                       Good day lad, it is us, your favorite trio. We hast a most major question and we would appreciate if thou answer as fast as thou could. We wot thou love dragons so much and of course we love thou moe.  

 yet  the question is, art not dragons just better versions of lizards?

loving, 

Fred, George, Y/N

You three laughed as George read the letter out loud. You always do this whenever you send letters to Charlie. You all act like it was the old times, you write in Old English, and you sometimes even speak in Old English. It was something Charlie always looked forward to whenever he visited home, his dorkhead trio. 

"It's almost lights out. We should head to our dorms" you heard Fred say as he started to clean up the mess you three made. Your eyes widened and looked at George who has a lopsided smile. 

"Am I alive? Is this heaven? Or am I dreaming? Is this real? Frederick Gideon Weasley is afraid of lights out? He's following the curfew? Pinch me George" you shifted your gaze to Fred and George, it was utmost not Fred-like to say “we should go back before lights out” he liked sneaking back, he liked ruining the dark and quiet halls. Why would he say such a thing?

"Ow!" You glared at George who actually pinched your arm, "It was just an expression!" You widened your eyes as you rubbed your arm, he just laughed and apologized to you.

"No but on a serious note, why is he, FIRST OF ALL, cleaning?" You and George looked at Fred who was now arranging the wizard chessboard that you used, "-and told us to go back BEFORE lights out?" You crossed your arm and still stared at Fred, squinting your eyes at him, he finally stopped. 

"Fine fine, it's because-" Fred started talking again and stopped, he looked at George who was beside you and his look was saying 'SOS help me' but George just ignored him and continued to fix his shirt-that in fact there is nothing to fix, therefore 'pretend fixing' are the right words.

"I promised to Angelina that I'll go back before lights out" he said with a low voice, more like, whispering. 

"Huh? What? I can't hear you" you tilted your head while George was biting his inner cheek in order to not laugh. 

"I promised-" you interrupted him

"LOUDER!"

"I SAID I PROMISED ANGELINA THAT I'LL GO BACK BEFORE LIGHTS OUT!" He shouted back that made you stiff, and then, you and George broke down again, laughing. "I heard it the first time" you said between your laughs, waving your hand at him, while Fred seemed to be annoyed but trying his best not to laugh too. 

Your laugh and George's laugh are the only ones that were heard in the closed room, it was contagious and after a minute of trying his best not to be on the same boat as you two, Fred finally gave up and laughed with you and his twin.

"You're not going back yet?" George asked you when you didn't come to the door with them, you shake your head in response. 

"Uhm, alright, just don't get caught" he said and the two of them waved at you before stepping out. 

Now the room was filled again with silence, gone was the chaos, the laughing, shouting, the running, and even throwing of things. It was only you and the silence. 

After half an hour of just staring at nowhere you decided to stand up. You picked up the lamp and headed out. You forgot your wand at your dorm and you've probably never said stupid to yourself so many times. 

Walking the hallway, still being cautious to your surroundings, you don’t want Filch or Mrs. Norris seeing you, polishing the trophies without using magic is one thing you don’t want to do. 

As you walked, feeling the walls, slowly gliding your hand through it, you suddenly saw a silhouette, it was a man, thinking that might be another student you stepped closer until his back was quite visible, but still it was far enough for him to not notice you. You observed him more, all your attention was to this man. 

His black trench coat, straw coloured hair, he was not familiar to you. 

You followed him, for about 2 minutes in complete silence, even your footsteps were light in order to not make any unnecessary noises. You just concentrated on the man and to yourself that you didn’t realize you bumped into a suit of armor and it made a loud clang. You hit your head hard and was about to curse when suddenly someone grabbed your wrist from behind and dragged you into a space between the walls, the person covered your mouth and blew the lamp. 

It was a helpful gesture to be honest, because you then hitched when you saw the silhouette walking in front of the both of you. You looked at the person in front of you, you can’t recognize his face, it’s so dark that you can only hear footsteps of the man you were following, he was still phasing, looking around to see what might have made that noise.

You didn't waste any time, you moved to the spot where you can see clearly and was shocked to see Professor Moody. Without any hesitation you ran towards him 

“Professor!” you seemed panicking, while he was shocked, he looked at you with disbelief and you were confused why he was making such an expression. 

“Professor I saw a-” you were cut on by someone putting its arm over your shoulder. 

“She saw heaven professor, if y’know what I mean” the person said, you froze, how can you be dumb enough to not know. 

“Silly kids. Off to bed. You two better go, Filch might come” Moody said and turned its back to you,

and Cedric

After Moody disappeared in your sight you immediately removed Cedric’s arm that wrapped you. “What do you think you’re doing?” you took a step back to make a space for you two, and the moon was just right on time to shine between you. There you saw a clear view of him, his stance, his fluffy hair, his grey eyes, everything.

He didn’t answer and just stared at you, “He might have caught that person, you saw it too, that man was not from here” you tried not to shout, you were frustrated, scared, you didn’t want to think about it, but if danger is lurking around at Hogwarts only two people are the possible targets. 

You and Harry. 

“Did you see his face?” he finally talked, you looked at him with shock all over your face, “NO, I didn’t, I just saw his back, but I know he’s not anyone I know, or if it’s a student he would be  familiar” 

He covered half of his face with a hand, gliding it down to his jaw, while his other hand was on his hips, it was an act of frustration. 

“That’s the point, you didn’t see his face, but you saw the back, and the clothes.” he got his wand “Lumos” there it is, you can see clearly. But you don’t know what to think about.

Is it your ex boyfriend who was in front of you in the middle of the night or the fact that the danger might be lurking around Hogwarts, and you being completely oblivious, almost trusted them.

 After that encounter with Cedric before the term started , you avoided him, even if it is quite hard since you two have classes together you still managed. There was nothing more in that conversation, after he lit up the tip of his wand you walked and ran, not thanking him, not talking to him, you just ran back to your dorm, not minding the dark hall, you just trust your instinct to where it would take you and luckily, you arrived safely.

January came by and it’s almost February, you were the talk of the school, you and Cedric. When people started to notice that you two were not walking to class together, sitting at the Great Hall together, no PDA, a lot of rumor started. And Rita Skeeter just made it worse.

“What’s that?” Angelina sat beside you as you read the Witch Weekly. You gave it to her and stabbed your steak, wishing it was Rita. 

“PRETTY BOYS CAN BE PLAYED AROUND, what is this?” She read the headline,

“Hogwarts Champion Cedric Diggory and ex girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N cause of break up revealed. Hold up, is this you and George?!” Angie looked at you like her heart just dropped, you shook your head to deny it and glanced at your food again. 

“Then who is this?” she surveyed the moving picture with full attention, well if you didn’t know better you would also believe the article, “Georgie’s girl” it was morning but you felt the energy draining from you, “Please don’t tell anyone. Fred knows” you continued and tried to take a bite, but you felt your stomach turn upside down. 

It was a picture of George kissing a girl the same hair color as yours, her face was covered as George’s back was at the camera. 

“I’m so sorry boo” she hugged you and you felt her warmth, you just stayed there for a while, laying on her shoulder, you’re not crying, but you wished you were. 

“Shit” you blurted out as you opened Professor Moody’s office, he must be at class now so the coast should be clear. 

“Alastor Moody?” you called with a low voice, you jumped as one compartment started to rattle. Slowly but surely you went up to it. However, before you can even touch it you are pushed sideways, you hit your hip on a table and your sleeve might have been grazed in a sharp object within the room for it to be torn. 

“Well well if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N” Professor Moody was right in front of you now, you felt your insides shaking adding up to the pain of your hip, you know this is not Alastor Moody. 

“I guess you figured it out?” he said and suddenly, his face started to disorient, it was changing into something, it was changing into his original face. 

And you saw it, you know him.

“Hi, I’m Barty Crouch” he introduced himself, removing the wooden leg and eye. You got your wand and pointed it to him. “What are you doing here?” you said with full confidence, you tried to not shake, you have to gain control in this situation. 

“Don’t worry, we’re on the same team” he pulled his sleeves up and you saw a dark mark, he then pointed to your dark mark that is now visible because of your torn sleeve. 

“D’you wanna see him? He’s like a malnourished pup” Barty laughed maniacally as he opened the trunk, it had many locks, many layers, and when he got to the seventh one he gestured to you to come over. You were still holding your wand, preparing offensive and defensive spells just in case, but your mind went blank when you saw what was lying in the last layer of the trunk.

You looked down into a pit-like, underground chamber, where the real Alastor Moody lay 10 feet below, sleeping, lean and starving in appearance. His wooden leg was missing, and chunks of hair were missing, the socket that should have housed the magical eye was empty.

“That’s Mad-Eye Moody” Barty whispered to you, your hand was shaking, you felt numb, you can’t move, you didn’t even realize that you forgot to breathe for a second. He was there, the real Moody, the person you should trust, not the impostor. 

But who should you trust? You’re a death eater, the others won’t trust you, only your fellow death eaters and the Dark Lord will.

“If you tell anyone,” Barty slowly gathered your hair and pulled it downwards, now you’re not looking down but rather up, your hair was being pulled by a guy, you panicked, and the adrenaline started to kick in. 

You locked his hand by holding it with both of yours, you stepped back, you went under his arm and up again, and started twisting it until he let go. 

It was just one of the defenses your father taught you, it always came in handy. He was still in pain by your twisting of his arm so you took that opportunity and kicked his back, his face fell on the floor and you locked his hands while you kneeled on his back.

“Why would I tell anyone? My family is important to me, unlike yours” you declared and put him to sleep with a sleeping charm. “I don’t have time to die” you whispered and stood up. Walking to the trunk you closed it, now seeing Mad-Eye Moody awake, and before you closed it, you catched a sight of his eye, looking at you. 

You glanced at the picture that was crumpled in your hand, 

It was Cedric, and the skull and serpent sign that the Dark Lord uses was drawn just enough to be noticed. You knew exactly what the message portrayed. 

Cedric’s life is also in line, just like your brother. 

And only one thing can be done to put a stop to this. 

You first looked at your target audience, Mad-Eye Moody or more like, Barty Crouch Jr. When you spotted him it was your cue to find your victim, but it's like luck was on your side, he was coming to you. 

You stood up and came face to face with him. He was red, not blushing, but because of anger, but there was also sadness in his eyes that made you want to back out, but you remembered. You want him out of any danger. So, you faced him, your head high and looking stoic.

“You cheated on me?” His voice was low but full of frustration, “yes” you announced and look at his friends who were behind him. 

“No” he shakes his head, trying to deny it. “Look at me in the eyes and say that.” he focused on your eyes and you almost broke down your character when you saw Barty gawking at the both of you, “Yes. I cheated on you. With my best friend.” your voice surprisingly didn’t break, but his heart obviously did. His face was full of pain, he was vulnerable, but after a second his face went dull similar to yours. 

Cedric turned his back on you and your heart completely shattered as you saw he was still wearing the bracelet you made and the matching rings you two had. That’s why he was looking at your ring finger earlier, the ring was not there anymore, you made it into a necklace, perfectly hidden because of your uniform.

“At least she’s honest about it” one of his friends says before looking at you, giving you a half smile and continuing to follow Cedric. 

“Y/N? What was that for? You said it wasn’t you, were you lying?” Angie tugged you down to your seat earlier. “I was lying-” you admitted, reaching to your bag, “but not to you” and you stood up and left her with lines forming between her eyebrows. 

If it is for the better. I’ll do it.

[casikototmblr]

The Devil’s Wish - Part 1.

Summary: Reader is reunited with Michael after Michael was moved to Outpost 3.

A/N: Thinking of turning this into a story, I have the second chapter in the works! Let me know what you think.

1 year after the nuclear bombs dropped, you and your husband Michael got split up. You thought that was going to be it until Michael worked his corruptive charm and granted you a place at Outpost 3. You had been staying at Outpost 1 originally with Michael by your side - that was until the Cooperative stationed him in another outpost to select people for the Sanctuary - until it gradually became over-populated. It didn't take Michael long to catch wind of this news and he granted you a place at Outpost 3. Finally, after being away from each other for a year, you were going to be reunited once again.

You were dragged out of a black carriage, provided by the Cooperative for a smooth transition, by two Outpost guards. The two guards were dressed in a head-to-toe black hazmat style assemble, armed too with heavy weaponry. You tried your best to break away from their tight grips on your upper arms but your attempts to escape their grips failed.

You looked around at the foggy marshland, the decaying toxic ruins that littered the wasteland, the overgrown vegetation and the people dressed in the same black hazmat suits as the guards which were hauling dead bodies across the marshland.

The two guards finally let go of you once you were inside the outpost, throwing you to the feet of a woman who stood tall over you. The warmth hitting you face on. You were greeted by a woman with fiery red hair which clashed with her pale skin that was wrapped in a black Victorian dress and stopped at her ankles to show off a pair of ankle-high boots with a thin heel.

"Welcome to Outpost 3." The woman stated as she adjusted her grip on the wooden cane, her voice booming throughout the halls. "Outpost 3? This is it?" You exclaimed.

You had counted down the days from when Michael told you when you were able to come here. You and Michael had been separated for almost a year and you hated every second, minute and hour of it. Not being able to feel his touch or be wrapped in his warmth, it was painful to endure.

"You heard it right, I'm Wilhelmina Venable but you'll address as 'Ms. Venable', nothing else." The tall woman spoke, her voice quieter than before but still bouncing off the walls of the candle-lit halls.

Before you could respond, a woman emerged from behind Venable. She held a Geiger counter in one of her small hands. She held it over, the device pinging slowly. She hovered it further down your body, the Geiger counter now pinging rapidly; a smirk growing on the small woman's face as a flash of fear made its way onto yours at the sound of the fast pinging. The woman was short and had the same pale skin as Venable, her hair short and black and wearing a Victorian suit this time instead of a dress.

"Take her to be decontaminated," The stout woman commanded to the obedient guards as she waved a hand down one of the many halls that connected onto the circular corridor you were in. The guards re-attached their gloved hands back onto your upper arms.

"There'll be no requirement for that, Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable. I'll be in charge from this point on." The man hissed as he walked up behind your body. The guards let go of you, depositing you yet again on the icy floor of the corridor. You turned your head to look at Michael, happiness taking over. Michael offered a helping hand to you, you took it and got yourself up off the icy floor. You turned to look at the two, yours and Michael's fingers were now interlocked together. The same look of shock you had before was now registering on both of the women's’ faces.

"Mr. Langdon, We have to go through with the routine procedures." Ms. Venable demanded as her voice raised slightly, her brows now furrowed in slight anger at Michael's rude interruption.

"Those procedures won't be needed here, Venable," Michael growled, tightening the grip on your hand as anger slightly rose through Michael at Venable's rudeness. "Now, attend to the others," Michael added, waving his free hand to the empty hallway in front.

"Of course," Ms. Venable replied, her voice cracking slightly from her anger that was now visible for everyone to see. Venable grabbed Mead's arm and walked down the hallway, the two outpost guards following swiftly behind. The echoing sounds of boots clicking on the marbled floor retreated further and further down the hallway until it was silent. 

"Y/N.." Michael said, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin in the nook of your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. You closed your eyes, taking in this moment. You had missed what it was like to be wrapped in his arms, feeling and hearing his heart pound against his chest; his long, strawberry blonde hair just tickling the tops of your shoulders. It was heaven to relive it again. 

"I thought I'd never see you again. I thought the Cooperative would have intervened and taken your rightful place here away from you." Michael muttered, snuggling into your shoulder, some of his long hair falling over his eyes. 

"I was so worried about you, Michael. Worried about what could have happened to you." You cooed, pulling away from the hug and cupping Michael's soft face in your petite hands. "I've missed you so much." You added as you attached your lips to his in a deep kiss.

"M-Mr. Langdon?" The Gray stuttered, their eyes pointed at the floor in fear. You and Michael pulled away from the kiss to notice the Gray.

"Yes?" Michael snarled.

"Y/N's room is done, as well as your office." The Gray announced, their eyes still pointed at the floor for the entire exchange. 

"You can leave," Michael replied to the Gray. The Gray nodded and hurried back down the candle-lit hallway. Michael shortly filled you in on the positions here at the Outpost and you were in the same position as Michael, the ruler compared to the other ranks here. "Let's get you to your room," Michael said, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway. "My room?" You stuttered

"I know, It's just for the time being," Michael replied as he squeezed your hand gently as you came to some stairs. "My room is around the corner from yours. You don't need to worry." Michael added as you both walked down the stairs. Michael guided you in the direction of your sleeping chambers. 

Finally, you reached your door. Michael opened the door for you and showed you around your room. It was a room just big enough for you accompanied with an ensuite bathroom, 2 wardrobes already filled with clothes and a vanity table with 3 conjoined mirrors that allowed you to see the room from every angle. Michael walked to the door but didn't walk away. He turned around and grabbed your hand, a look of sadness in your eyes. 

"Everything's gonna be fine. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you, y/n. Now, get some sleep. You look like you need it." Michael cooed. He leant in and kissed you on the lips before pulling away and flashing an soft smile. 

"Goodnight, y/n." He added as he turned around and walked out.

"Goodnight, Michael." You said as you closed the door behind him.

[themusicplayedherlife]

Belonging

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: reader, bucky barnes word count: 2.1k warnings: angst summary: it’s all come to a conclusion, but he’s not willing to let you go that easily

part 1 || part 2

Waking up alone is… strange for a lack of a better word. You had grown so used to a warm body next to you, whether it was at your place or Bucky’s. You’d snuggle into his side, breathing in the smell of subdued roses and coconut—your personal body wash that he loved stealing from you—before he’d wrap you up in his arms and pepper kisses on your neck. Now it’s just an empty, cold spot that you’d roll into and a harsh reminder that to Bucky, you weren’t worth fighting for.

You step into the cafe with a small smile, greeting your best friend, who is already working her magic in the kitchen.

“Sorry, I’m late, Di.” You never had to worry about waking up late or being late because Bucky was your personal alarm. His fingers would ghost over your skin, digging into your bare flesh as he followed every caress with hot, wet kisses.

“Morning, doll,” he’d say as you blink sleepily down at him between your legs, wrecked stormy blue eyes twinkling mischievously as his tongue teased your sensitive nerves.

She looks up from the measuring cups and frowns as you remove your coat and switch it out for an apron. “You know if it were up to me, you’d have the week off.”

You don’t answer her, instead you get started on the bakery’s signature blueberry muffins.

“I thought you didn’t like, blueberries,” you’d tease Bucky, his arms wrapped around you tightly as you fold the berries into the batter slowly.

“If it’s you feeding me, darling.” He’d breathe you in and a small laugh would escape your lips as he nudged his nose against your skin. “I’d eat anything. Even anchovies.”

A gentle call of your name pulls you out of your memories, and without realizing it, all the small berries fall into the batter and splatter all over you and the table. “Fuck!” You’re going to have to start over! “Shit! I’m so sorry—“

“Hey, hey,” Diana starts gently, grabbing your shaking hands and pulling it away from the mess you’ve made. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll do it. Why don’t you get started on the front?”

God you’re such a mess, and you say as much to her with a wobble to your bottom lip and eyes burning with tears you have been refusing to shed. You’ve already cried enough that night, and you really fucking refuse to cry for Bucky again.

She hugs you tightly and you cling to her, heaving as you try to gather yourself back up. You don’t cry for boys like Bucky. You always move on, and move on you will.

Eventually.

Valeria, one of your employees walks in as you accept the tray of baked goods from your best-friend and organize them properly in the glass display. She greets you as she passes by both of you and goes into the back to put away her stuff and to change into her apron.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” Diana asks you again, gentle and kind, speaking to you like a mother would to her scared baby.

You sigh. You already told her that work would be the best distraction. If you can’t bake, you can at least tend the front with Valeria. “I’m sure.”

She rubs your back before nodding. She disappears into the back and then comes back out with more baked goods that need to go on display. 

You spend the next couple of minutes getting the bakery ready for the morning rush.

She slips into the back just as the door opens and you assume it’s Isaac, he usually comes in half an hour after Valeria, anyway, rarely arriving before her. 

Black trousers come into view on the other side of the glass and you frown, wondering why Isaac isn’t just heading straight for the back like he usually does. “What are—“ the question dies in your throat as red rimmed eyes greet you.

You didn’t think you’d see him again and somehow, he still looks beautiful, even with messy, greasy hair and stubble that has become a messy grown beard—all of which is nothing like the Bucky you know. But one thing that is completely him is those eyes full of love and warmth, and remorse.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is ragged and you can’t bring yourself to say anything. No matter how much you want to tell him to get out or how much you want to ask him what he’s doing here, nothing comes out.

You’re trapped.

The stand mixer is on full blast on the other side of the room and Valeria isn’t coming out and somehow you know Diana is behind this. When you told her what happened after waking up and realizing Bucky wasn’t anywhere in your apartment or near your apartment, you called her and she blew up a storm, calling him names and even offering to key his car.

Three days later, and she was no longer talking shit about him, not like you wanted her to, because a part of you will always love him, but that’s not something she would do. After your last break up, even though you were happy to have gotten rid of them, she wouldn’t stop cursing them until you told her that it was getting on your nerves.

“Why?” You somehow manage to push out.

“I’m—I’m so sorry I haven't come around, but I—“

“‘S fine,” you mumble. “We broke up, didn’t we?”

“What?” His eyes widen, and he rounds the counter to stand in front of you, but you back away and he doesn’t attempt to get closer. “No! No, sweetheart, I—I know I messed up, but breaking up isn’t what I want.

“But what if it’s what I want?” your voice wavers and once more you feel that familiar lump in your throat.

His hands fall to his side and those beautiful eyes of his mist over, tears collecting on the corner of his eyes and god you just want to reach over and wipe them away. “You—you don’t mean that!”

“Just like you didn’t mean your words that night?” you whisper, holding out hope that maybe, just maybe your mind had been playing tricks on you.

Guilt flashes in his pretty eyes and he swallows thickly. God. “I—“

A pathetic noise erupts from your throat and you just want to curl up in your bed. “Just what I thought.”

“Baby—“ he reaches for you but you turn your back on him and he sighs, his next words less leveled. “I fucked up. I really fucked up. I will never forgive myself for hurting you.” He takes a shaky breath and you wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the stinging in your nose. “I was so caught up in nostalgia and Natasha—“ You flinch visibly and a familiar warmth hovers over your back, his voice closer, but a strained whisper. “She’s nothing more than a friend. A sister, I swear. We grew up together, we saw each other through our worst and best, but Nat and I… we just… we never fit, but you—“

“That’s the thing Bucky. You do fit,” you tell him. “You’re both part of the same world and I—I‘m not.” You slowly spin on your heels and Bucky’s clothed chest is right in front of you, your shoes touching his, he’s—he’s too close and when you try to take a step back, the closed counters dig into your backside. Fuck. You face away from him, focusing on the espresso machine and refusing to let him see the tears beginning to form. “I tried to be, I really tried and I would have kept trying, but after that night, seeing you with her seeing how you two just match and the things you said—“ you cut yourself. “I can’t be her.”

Bucky, in a tentative and agonizing pace, takes hold of your upper arms, gingerly brushing his thumb against your skin as soon as they settle. You don’t push him away, you’d be denying if you hadn’t missed him—his touch, even if it lowers your guard just a little. “I don’t want you to be like her or anyone else. I fell in love with you because of the person you are.” His left hand leaves an imprint on your skin as he removes it from your arm, slowly hooking a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. “You’re the most amazing, most loving woman I have ever met and I was a fool to not show you off.”

“I don’t need you to show me off, Bucky.” You finally lock eyes with him, taking in his blotchy face and devastatingly stormy eyes. “I just—I just want you to love me for me.”

“I do—I do love you,” he says, so much conviction in his voice, enough to throw you off balance. “God, do I love you. When you weren’t by my side, I felt such an emptiness within me. Felt so lost. So lost. I kept waking up and searching for you, wanting to feel your fingers in mine,” his right hand travels down the length of your arm and his fingers graze over your palm before slipping between yours. “There’s no one I love or need more than you.”

You whisper at his words, his fingers squeezing gently. “Then why—why did you leave?” you choke, tears streaming down your face. “I looked for you!”

“Oh, baby.” He rushes forward, forward pressing against yours and the finger that had been hooked under your chin works to wipe away tears. “I didn’t want to,” he promises, his own voice heavy. “Would never leave you. Was sleeping in the hallway when I got a call from Becca saying mom collapsed and I—I had to be by her side.  I tried calling you, but you—“

You gasp and you pull out of his hold to instead cup his jaw in your hands. If there’s one person in Bucky’s world that you love and adore more than him, it’s Winnie. She’s been nothing but kind to you since you started dating her son, occasionally visiting the bakery with either Becca or Mary or both just to check up on you, and sometimes even delivers lunch. “Is she—is she okay?”

He sniffles through a small smile. “Yeah, she’s better now.” You release a relieved sigh and are about to drop your hands, but Bucky laying his hands over yours stops you. “Asked about you and called me an idiot after I told her what had happened. Told me to come to you right away, but Becca and Mary—“

“I know,” you whisper. They’re still so young, barely learning to navigate the adult world. They’ve already lost their father, they must’ve been scared to lose their mother too. He had to be there for them, even if your love was breaking, his sisters and mom mean the world to him. It’s part of why you fell in love with him—it’s why you love him. “And your mother was right. You are an idiot.”

“I am,” he says through a wet laugh, and you can’t help but giggle along, saltiness slipping onto your tongue as your tears roll over your lips. “I won’t ever deny that I’m the biggest idiot.”

His eyes shine with tears and sadness and love, so much love; and he just… he just looks so beautiful it’s unfair. It’s unfair the feelings he causes in you: the endless turmoil. You can’t tell what you’re feeling anymore, if it’s love or anger, resentment or pain. 

“I want to forgive you,” you admit in the quiet of the cafe, leaning into him and he immediately understands what you want—his lips attach to your forehead, “but I don’t know if I can—not yet.”

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I hurt you, I should have been by your side, should’ve told everyone you were my beautiful girlfriend—“

You flinch and the hands that were holding yours drop to wrap around your waist, your own falling to his shoulders. “I don’t want to think or talk about that night anymore, Bucky. I just want you to promise me that something like that won’t ever happen again. Please.”

He inhales softly. “I promise, sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead again, slightly chapped lips trailing kisses down to the corner of your eye. “It’s you. It’s always been you. And it will always be you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer back without hesitation because it’s the truth. It will always be the truth. Even if years down the line you and Bucky aren’t together, you know you’ll always love him. But right now? Right this moment? You belong in his arms and you hope that you always will.

[poptod]

The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck (Ahkmenrah x Reader, Ch. 2)

Ch. 1

Word Count: 5.1k AO3 Link: The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck

"I cannot begin to tell you how irritating he is," you moaned to Unas, who mostly ignored your complaining in favor of his newest toy. Outside the sun sat low upon the distant mountains, thin clouds adding texture to a smooth, purple blue sky. A gentle breeze blew through the arches built into a wall in his room, billowing silk curtains in soft shapes. Unas had somehow managed to become your friend, which was a rare thing considering your status, but his own father was a scribe, thus the social status was level.

He was, suffice to say, an acquired taste. In fact, he hardly had any friends at all besides you due to the fact that he was far too eccentric in his decisions and, speaking honestly, a little feral. You didn't mind - you'd spend the day at his house, help him tinker away at his art and inventions, tell him a little about your life (and be unsure if he's hearing you the entire time), and end the day with inviting him to yours. Every now and then he took up the offer, showing up at your doorstep in the morning and following you on your trips around the city.

One of the things he adored was, unfortunately, looking through trash. It had confused you at first, as it would most likely do to most people, but, waist deep in torn baskets and cloths, he told you, "if you look through what's broken, you'll find what people need."

From that day forth you realized Unas was far more intelligent than most people gave him credit for.

"This is still the prince we're talking about here, right?" He asked, biting his lip as he carved a very delicate line into the wet tablet.

"Yes. His face makes me want to punch him," you said, leaning back till your head fell off the edge of the couch. Unas tsked, shaking his head, still concentrating deeply on his work.

"Isn't that a little treasonous?"

"Maybe, but it doesn't mean he doesn't deserve it. You agree with me, right? I've told you what he's like," you said, getting up off your back and crouching beside him, your hand on his shoulder. Glancing at you he laughed, ruffling your hair.

"I think I'd have to meet him first before forming any opinions."

"Trust me, you don't want to meet him."

"Perhaps not," Unas said, tapping the end of his utensil on his chin. "Care to go diving?"

"Every time," you said with a grin, the two of you standing up together.

As per usual, people flooded the market, flitting about looking for various spices and cloths. The occasional food carts were always swarmed, massive lines of people queued up for the famous delicacies of Memphis' high markets. Overhead the sun sent cascades of heat down upon the backs of the crowded streets, and at the center of everything, a fountain stood, filled with pristine water that glittered in the light of day. As delightful as the high markets were, you and Unas had a far different destination, which was fortunately rather close to the market.

In a corner of the city that not many ventured to, a good deal of people had taken up the habit of dumping their old and unused playthings and tools into a broken down house. Why, exactly, this had come to be neither you or Unas had any idea, but you were nonetheless thankful for the little treasures that could be found there. On the walk there you fondly recalled finding an entire chest in almost pristine condition, the only fault being the broken hinges. Unas solved that quickly, and from then on that chest was filled with the various things you'd found.

"Anything in particular we're looking for?" You asked as you neared the house, turning the street to see the familiar broken down door.

"I need smooth sticks, and round things," he said, looking a little too excited, rubbing his hands together discreetly.

"Alright then," you said with a shrug, numb to his odd requests in searches.

"While we're doing that," Unas said, opening the door for you, "you can try to tell me about any good traits the prince has."

"Good traits?" You scoffed, doing a quick survey of the bottom floor. "I think that's a little impossible."

"Nothing's impossible," he sang, already dropping to his knees and thoroughly searching through the first section of the house. Grunting your acknowledgement (though not agreement) of his statement, you continued upstairs, letting your eyes drag slowly over the many heaps of broken things. Your method of searching was different from his, much faster and less precise, but the both of you got the job done either way. Downstairs, you heard him mumble a quiet exclamation, smiling to yourself knowing he'd just found something.

Out of the corner of your eye, an object reflected the sun into your eye, catching your attention with squinted eyes. You knelt, fondling the object between your hands. It was jewelry - that or a part of a machine you couldn't even begin to fathom.

Unas would like this, you thought to yourself, before quickly thinking, I like this too. The gold in your palm was malleable, fitted onto a string that would allow it to hang delicately from the neck. In the center of it, an amethyst the size of your nose sat, encased in a silver that held a mass of smaller, blue gemstones.

Another exclamation from downstairs, this time louder, caught your attention, and you quickly pocketed the treasure. Running down the stairs, you stood beside Unas, who was still knelt in the dirt.

"Look at this! A perfectly good mirror," he said, his smile wide and toothy. With a chuckle you sat beside him, taking the mirror from him when he offered and tracing the delicate carvings made into the silver of the handle.

"You could just buy a mirror, you know," you said thoughtlessly, still examining the mirror. Besides some decay and dents, it was in perfectly good shape, though your reflection was foggy at best. "Just needs some cleaning," you murmured to yourself.

"I know, but this one's free, and I think it's real silver," he said excitedly, taking the mirror back from you and putting it in his bag.

"Could just be encased in silver, but, let's keep hope. I found something too, actually," you said, remembering the necklace in your pocket. As you took it out, a soft gasp left him, his thumbs swiping over the gold.

"Besides being ugly as all hell, this has to be worth something," Unas laughed, nodding in a pleased way as you pocketed it once more.

"I suppose you are right," you grunted as you stood, "but you can't deny today was a good haul."

"Ah, ah," he tsked, shaking his head. "Not over yet."

He sent you back upstairs, where you proceeded to find several bits of metal and, to his great appreciation, a few smooth sticks that must've been part of a toy once. Downstairs, though more plentiful, had less things of actual value, but when compared to your different searching methods, the work was split evenly.

At the end of the search you convened at the front door of the house, leaning on the door frame and showcasing your different findings. It had been an excellent day to go - Unas even found a door hinge, which was a rather rare thing to find without an entire door attached to it. Hinges were great for toys, though you had a hard time thinking of any other use for them. That's where Unas excelled; his imagination towards objects and their uses was nearly astronomical, and you had a great confidence that he would grow up incredibly successful.

"Feel like celebrating?" You asked, letting him take what you'd found and put it in his bag for easier carry.

"Absolutely. I vote Nizism's place," he agreed with a smile, leading the way through shortcut alleys and into the marketplace.

Hidden away in the busy crevices of the streets, Nizism owned a bakery that was a secret treasure to you and Unas. Not many people knew about him and his shop, despite the fact that he was probably the best baker out there, and as much as you and Unas wanted him to do well in life, it felt good to have something not many people knew about. It was, perhaps, the same reason you never told anyone about your 'dumpster diving,' as the general populace referred to it as. Nizism knew every customer by name, which was easy since his regulars numbered few, and just like every other time, it was mostly empty when you entered.

The building itself was small, the furnace inside visible to all customers, a loaf of sweetbread slowly baking away inside it. You weren't an especially tall person (in fact, you were a rather short person), but even to you the ceilings were a little low - that made it easy to climb up to the roof, which you always kept in mind in case you needed to hide. Sitting in the corner, absently filing different sheets of papyrus, a man you'd seen a few times before sipped at his beer, the frothy drink coating his upper lip when he set the mug down. Nizism stood behind the counter, smiling at you when you entered, his hands balancing his weight against the firm stone of the counter. On several different plates, his menu sat beside him, the many versions of his breads and pastries on display for you to pick from.

"I'll have a date loaf," you told him, keeping your tone polite and happy. Unas, on the other hand, spent a good deal of time deciding what he wanted to have. By the time you'd paid and taken off a chunk to eat (the rest of it was for your family), he had narrowed it down to two options.

"Um... I think.. yeah, I'll have three tiger nut sweets," he finally decided, pulling coins out of his bag and paying.

"Sounds good," Nizism said, putting the three small dumplings into a bag, taking Unas' coin and wishing him a good day.

The two of you walked back into the sunlight, wandering aimlessly through the busy market as you nibbled away at your congratulations treat, which wasn't very hard at all to earn. One of Unas' favorite activities, besides looking through the dump house, was going from stall to stall and getting inspiration for what he might want to build or make. He favored toy stalls, the different mechanics of them always interesting him. Oftentimes he'd take up a good deal of time just talking to the owner of the stall, discussing how they were made, where they were from, the technology and skill required to craft such things, and by the time Unas was in the middle of a long speech, the merchants always looked tired. At that point you would hint to him that the owner needs to sell these things and you're not buying, which would make him leave fast enough, always adding a thank you onto the end of his speech.

This time his attention was caught by a hygiene cart, filled with mints, toothbrushes, mirrors, razors, and more, all of which you already had at home. Unas, being Unas, was far too interested in how the right formula had come about for a breath mint.

"So you use cinnamon to flavor it?" He asked, picking up one of the mints and examining it.

"No, well - yes, but I don't make them, as I said earlier. They're from Tanis," the shopkeeper explained, already looking a little weary.

"Tanis? That's a long way to travel just for breath mints."

"I live there. A family friend of mine makes these things and I bring it here so it'll sell better," he said, pinching at his skin.

"Unas? I think it'd be best if we go now," you whispered to him, a gentle hand on his back leading him away from the stall.

"Right, sorry," he mumbled, thanking the man for his time as you took him away.

"You need to work on that a little more," you said, back in the bustle of moving from stall to stall.

"But I want to learn more about what they do," he whined, his shoulders sagging as he followed you, eyes darting yearningly towards each newfangled thing.

"Then just ask them simpler questions. I'm fine with you talking my ear off, but not everyone is."

He agreed in a murmur, his mood obviously dampened, but he kept his energy up as you continued on your way. It was a great thing you appreciated about your friendship - one could bring up faults in the other, and the situation would be handled in a mature fashion in which no one's feelings got hurt.

"Oh, death totems!" You exclaimed when the sight of them caught your eye, dangling from the window and doorway of a shop building. You hadn't ever seen it before, which was a little confusing, considering something so attuned to your tastes was rare to come by. Almost leaving Unas behind, you drove through the crowd, slipping between people till you came to the front of the store.

"You know," Unas said, panting at the exertion, "you could at least tell me when you're going to run off."

"Hm? Oh, sorry, I... got a little caught up. Look at these," you said, marvelling at the craftsmanship. Hanging at the end of the long line of dolls lay a figurine of Medjed, who had been your favorite god for as long as you could remember. Unfortunately he wasn't a very well known or heavily worshipped god, meaning anything in dedication to him was scarce to come by - this was the exact reasons your eyes lit up the way they did, gasping as you rushed towards it, taking the doll off the hook and handling it. Medjed the Smiter he was called, though in such a small form it was hard to imagine him hurting anyone.

"Look at that!" Unas said, almost impressed as he nodded. "You should definitely get it."

You agreed easily with him, and a few short minutes later you had Medjed dangling from your finger, Unas leading the way to your next stop. The two of you found a brief respite from the blazing heat overhead in the next store, which happened to be a clothing store, stocked to the brim with different skirts, shawls, shendyts, and various bracelets.

"What's so special about this place, then?" You asked quietly, looking down the various shelf aisles.

"Did you see the green skirt lining?" He said, gesturing with his head in the general direction. Casting your gaze that way, it quickly caught your attention, the color brighter and more vibrant than any other you'd seen.

"Wow," you commented.

"Yeah, I have questions too," he said with a chuckle, coming up to the counter and starting his usual long conversation with the teller. This time the shopkeeper looked interested, happily telling Unas about his techniques, even adding in extra information Unas didn't ask about, which delighted him. Deciding that the two of them would be fine together, you meandered through the shop, soon coming across a sight you wish you hadn't seen.

"Goldie," you gritted out, your gaze instantaneously turning from neutral to pissed off.

"Oh, hello," Ahkmen said cheerfully, grinning and waving at you. "What are you doing here?"

"Like I'd tell you," you said, letting your angered glare follow him as he walked past you.

"Mm, that's fine since I don't really care."

"You're an ass, I hope you know that."

"You tell me that every time we see each other, of course I remember," he said, still smiling, something that's always managed to throw you off. Several items of clothing sat on his arm, a stack almost as wide as your face and drooping down to his knee.

As he went through the aisles, he took shirts off the shelves carelessly, tossing them onto his arm or over his shoulder. Confused, you followed after him, not even bothering to look like you weren't doing it. Looking back at you he smirked, somehow satisfied that you were intrigued enough that you didn't leave.

"What in the hell are you doing?" You finally asked when he put four bracelets onto his arm.

"Aw, are you starting to care about me?" He said in a baby voice, his lower lip pouting as he turned to you.

"I swear to god, just -" your anger, combined with the urge to punch him in the face, dissipated in a split second when his face fell from joking to terrified.

"Hey! Put those down!" The shopkeeper yelled over the quiet murmur of the store, instantly catching the attention of everyone inside it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, grab everything and run!" Ahkmen said in a panic, handing you everything in his arms and grabbing all that he could get his hands on, haphazardly collecting it in his arms as he bolted out of the store.

"What the -" Unas said, just as confused as you were, but you had little time to debate his reaction. The shopkeeper leapt over the counter, going straight for you as though you'd done something wrong, and then it hit you - it definitely looked like you were in cahoots with Ahkmen. As much as you hated the idea, you hated being in trouble more, thus set out in a dead sprint, following Ahkmen through the crowd.

Behind you followed Unas, who was a much faster runner than the shopkeeper. He caught up quickly, helping you carry the load without question as the shopkeeper pulled a dagger out of his sheath.

"Oh my fucking Gods," you murmured to yourself as you kept running, trying to keep up with the golden robes Ahkmen wore, whipping around the corner when you saw him turn.

I'm going to get stabbed because of this idiot, you thought to yourself, still watching Ahkmen.

You almost ran past the bakery, the one you had been peacefully eating at only an hour or two ago, grabbing the back of Ahkmen's cape to get his attention.

"Up this way," you said, throwing the clothing up on the low roof and using your adventuring skills to scale the wall and get on the roof.

"I didn't know you could do -"

"Fucking move, he's right fucking there!" Unas yelled, pushing Ahkmen up the wall. Glancing quickly to find the shopkeeper barreling towards him, Ahkmen threw his clothes up on the roof, grabbing your extended hands to escape from the mans' wrath, immediately helping Unas up once he'd gotten safely up.

"Come on, it doesn't take much to get up here. He'll follow soon," you said, grabbing the clothes and using the little time alloted to you to stuff a good chunk of the clothing and bracelets into Unas' bag, giving a fair amount to Ahkmen and carrying the rest in your arms.

With a quick nod Ahkmen set off, you and Unas behind him as the three of you continued to scale several different buildings, ducking behind barrels and alleyways until the shopkeeper was in the distance, far, far away from you. Gasping and panting you sat on the ground, Unas kneeling beside you just as exhausted. Ahkmen let his head fall back, laughing towards the sky, weary but delighted.

"What just happened?" Unas asked quietly, his voice breaking.

"You just helped me," Ahkmen said, laughing as though it was a great achievement.

"I will reign hell upon you, Gold fish," you said, trying to get your breathing under control.

"Wait - wait, wait, this is the prince?!" Unas questioned, recognizing your nickname for him immediately.

"I'm Ahkmen, nice to meet you," Ahkmen said with a polite smile, shaking Unas' hand as he introduced himself.

"Unas. I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things I hope, though, knowing Ducky..." sly eyes turned to you, and you had to press your lips together to stop yourself from yelling at him.

"Ducky?" Unas said, breaking out into laughter at your nickname.

"Shut the fuck up," you grumbled, letting your head relax against the shaded wall behind you. "Now tell us what the hell we just did."

"Only for a kiss," Ahkmen said, puckering his lips.

"I'm serious! We just stole from someone, why?!"

"Oh fine. You're no fun," Ahkmen said, sitting down across from you, Unas sitting in between the two of you. "That man you were talking to, the shop owner, his name is Kek. He doesn't make a thing in that store. He 'hires' a bunch of immigrants and doesn't pay them enough, they hardly have enough money to wear the cheapest of the clothes they make. These," he grabbed one of the skirts, holding the white cloth out in front of him, "are for them."

You paused, unsure if you were to believe him or not. On one hand, he hadn't ever really lied to you before, but on the other he was a prince. People like him weren't ever interested in the wellbeing of those they deemed lesser than themselves, too absorbed in their own self image and pleasure to see the suffering of others.

"You... stole.. for immigrants?" You murmured, wondering if you were hearing him right. He nodded, confirming that yes, your ears were in fact working.

"Couldn't you have just bought them clothes, or gotten them out of that situation? You're a prince," Unas asked, his brow furrowed in his confusion.

"It's more poetic like this, and I can't really remove them from the situation unfortunately. That type of power is reserved for my father," Ahkmen explained. "I'd love to help more, but I can't without alerting my father, and he doesn't like immigrants. Well, he does, but for the wrong reasons."

"Why does he like them?" Unas asked.

"He likes them to work for him. For free," Ahkmen said with a grimace, his eyes dull as he thought about his father's political views.

"Ah," Unas mumbled.

"I don't know if I believe your story," you said, voicing your worry, one that Ahkmen was quick to deny.

"Come with me, then. I'm taking these to them now, then you never have to see me again," Ahkmen said, almost smiling as he picked up the clothes he had dropped.

Unsure, you glanced at Unas, who seemed fully on board with the idea. With a sigh you gathered your own pile of clothing, following Ahkmen down uninhabited streets and alleyways, staying as hidden as it was possible for a young man dressed in gold fiber.

"You could do with more discreet clothing if you're off doing reckless shit like this," you mumbled to him, the three of you crammed into a tight space between hay carts.

"Yes, but I look so much better like this," he said with a wink, settling his cape over your shoulders. You grumbled, shaking it off of you and scooting as far away from him as you could without revealing your position to the drivers.

Continuing on your way, you managed to escape the sights of several palace guards who apparently knew Ahkmen well, evaded general capture and had what could be classified as a good time (you loathed to call anything with Ahkmen a 'good time') all the way to the slums.

Despite how much you and Unas got out and wandered around Memphis, one place you basically never ventured to was the slums. This was for a variety of reasons, most of which were rules your fathers had put in place; sick stirred on every street, the mess was apparently horrid, kindness was alien to them, and no one had self respect. That was what your father told you, at least - what Unas' father told him was a mystery to you. What you found was a little surprising, though you should've put it together long before then; there was far more humanity in those with little than in those with everything.

"It's... different, than what I expected," you murmured, mostly to yourself, but the words caught Ahkmen's ear. Unas was far too engrossed in a little boy showing him his toy ox to pay any attention to you.

"What were you expecting?" Ahkmen asked, for once not teasing or prodding you.

"I don't know," you said, knowing full well you both knew what you were expecting. Trash. Stewing sickness. Instead, it was tired mothers and children who worked too hard for too little, still wearing smiles as they ran around with their friends. From inside one house music came, the sound of beats against wood, the vocalizations of an entire family humming in harmony with one another. Ahkmen smiled, just barely, as he watched your near amazement.

"This way," he said softly, grabbing your wrist and leading you along. Caught up in the moment, you didn't think to rip yourself away from his grip, letting him carry you past the many houses till you came to large tent shelters near the city wall.

It was warm inside - that was the first thing you noticed. Unbearable, sweltering heat that dampened your clothes and stuck heavy against your skin. You almost remarked about it, but Ahkmen was focused, and any word you might've said would've slipped past him. What must've been hundreds of people filled the area, many of them children with babies in their arms. In each place you looked there were makeshift beds, containers of communal foods laying about in a disorganized manner. Following him, you came to the back of the large tent, where a very stressed-looking man stood, pacing back and forth as he mumbled to himself.

This had to be something you'd been warned about; people who talked to themselves, who weren't connected with the real world. Your father warned you that they were dangerous, but when Ahkmen got his attention and he smiled pleasantly at the prince, your worry faded into nothing.

"I brought you these, um..." he grabbed your arm, hauling you away from watching the population in the tent to showcase the clothes you were carrying. "There's another coming, I'm not sure where he is but he's got lots more."

"Thank you. Thank you," the man said, an unidentifiable accent heavy on his tongue as he bowed his head.

"I'll see what I can do about getting you unionized. That way you'll be able to really fight for your rights," Ahkmen said, smiling as he patted the man's shoulder, who looked like he didn't fully understand what Ahkmen was saying, but was nonetheless grateful.

"You're a very kind boy," was what he said, a phrase you could hardly believe was about Ahkmen, but considering the course of events that day, your image of him was swaying.

"Not really. But thank you anyways," he said.

Turning back to you, he smiled curtly, leading the both of you out of the tent in search of Unas. He acted as though everything was normal, still making tiny jabs at your self esteem as the two of you scanned the streets for your friend. It didn't take long till your curiosity broke loose, unable to take a second more without knowing the truth behind his actions.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, stopping the both of you from walking and stepping to the side, out of the main road.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, helping these people. It's such a noble thing, but you're... I didn't... I don't know, you don't really seem like the saint type."

"I guess I don't really know either, but it is fun to be fair," he said, and your new image of him shattered. Of course he was doing it for fun, why else would a prince help the poor?

"Let's just get this done and never talk to each other again," you grumbled, sighing as you resumed your search. With a shrug he joined you, and in a few minutes you found Unas exactly where he was before, discussing the dynamic between Nephthys and Isis to a seven year old.

"But, you see, even though their separate marriages were -"

"Unas? What are you doing?" You asked, mildly amused but mostly horrified.

"Hm? Just talking to this kid, her name is Tabia, say hi," he said as he made to stand, brushing the dirt off himself as he stood beside you.

"Hi, Tabia," Ahkmen said, grinning as he knelt to her height. "I like your doll."

"Thanks," she giggled, her cheeks tinting rose as she pulled at the edges of her ratted dress.

"Come now, we're taking the clothes to this tent up here," you mumbled to Unas, not wanting to watch Ahkmen. Your idea of who he was kept changing rapidly, and you were getting pretty sick of it - it should've been simple. He was an asshole, he would always be an asshole, and that would never change.

"Good, this bag's been weighing me down," Unas said, following you to the tent.

By afternoon you were trying to say your hurried good-bye's to Ahkmen, trying to get Unas to speed up his farewell. Unas didn't feel the same way you did about Ahkmen, which you convinced yourself was due to the fact that Ahkmen was acting strange all day. More kind than he usually was. Still, you couldn't control Unas, and thus you remained in Ahkmen's presence until sunset, which by that point you were fully irritated with the man.

"By the way, don't mention any of this to my father, should he ask. I'm not technically allowed outside the palace. Until we meet again, Ducky," he said, shooting a playful wink in your direction, earning him a middle finger from you.

"I don't know what you dislike about the man," Unas said, shaking his head as the two of you walked back to his house.

"You don't know? How about all the times he teased me, and that awful nickname? Plus, he's just annoying, you know that vibe you get when someone's really, really annoying but you don't know why? That's him. He's the embodiment of that emotion," you ranted, gesturing harshly with your hands while you spoke.

"I've had more fun today than I do most days with you," Unas said.

"That's because I don't do illegal things," you hissed, poking his chest with your finger as you stood outside his door.

"Well then. Maybe you should start," he said with a smirk all too alike Ahkmen's, entering his house and shutting the door before you could yell at him.

[irrelevantwriter]

Decadence

Pairing: (Dracula BBC) Count Dracula x OFC

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Dracula (that’s it, that’s the warning)

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Part 2. Elena gets used to her new life with the Count, and finds a way to thank him for it.

AN: This is part two to my mini-series for BBC Dracula. These parts can be read as stand alone fics, but there’s some back story that ties them all together and enhances the established relationship between Dracula and Elena. Dracula does get it in this time so prepare yourselves. I’ve got one more part to add so be on the lookout for that soon. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.

*Check out part one: Acceptance

*Check out part three: Indulgence

*Unholy Splendor series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*******************

The loft was empty, the heavy curtains pulled tight as she made her way from their resting chambers and to the main areas of living. The apartment was large and cold, a prison to most, a home to her. The décor was dark with sleek lines and modern accents. It was a palace in her eyes. All that was missing was her king. There wasn’t a note or any indication that he’d be returning, but she knew he would. He always came back.

Elena checked the time, seeing it was just after nine o’clock in the evening. Her mouth instantly salivated, a Pavlovian effect to the meaning of the hour. It was feeding time and she was more than famished. Her new status as an immortal was a process. It’d been just three months since her transformation and there was still much to learn. He’d assured her she’d get the hang of such drastic changes; her feedings, the switch from daylight to night, the power behind her movements, the cravings, her insatiable hunger…and not just for food.

At the mere thought of her lover’s embrace she felt herself become aroused, already desperate to have him take her once again. A vampire’s libido was immeasurable. She wanted him all the time, at every waking moment. Too much was just never enough. And as she looked out onto the city streets bathed in darkness, she knew he felt the same. He may be her master, her dark lord, but he was just as influenced by her as she was him. And he could rarely say no to her.

She felt a prickle of familiarity in her spine, the signal that he was near. She smiled, knowing that he would come through the door with dinner, a thermos of warm human blood just for her. He would’ve fed himself already and then set out on acquiring her nourishment until she was ready to hunt with him. He took care of her. He became her teacher, her governor, her god, her lover…her husband. And he’d given her eternity with him. She’d never be able to repay him, but she’d spend all of time trying.

“Anyone hungry?”

Elena turned to the front door, taking in the tall figure that practically glided through it and towards her. Two sets of dark eyes met in a cascade of adoration, lust, worship, and intimacy. Dracula approached his bride, his handsome features molding into that charming smile she loved so much. His hair was slightly windblown, but otherwise perfectly coiffed as always. His impeccably tailored black suit ran the long lines of his body, making him appear as if he stood even taller over her petite frame. Encased in his hand was a silver thermos, the remnants of a beating heart confined behind the temperature controlled walls.

“Ravenous.” She replied cheekily, angling her neck so that she could stare up at him. His free hand cradled her face, drawing back strands of long raven hair as he did. His thumb ran over her lips, his longing as palpable as hers.

“Are you feeling alright?” He whispered, the carefully concealed care showing as he stared down at her. She watched as he took note of her face, studying her for signs of discomfort.

“Perfect now.” She playfully nibbled at his appendage, allowing her tongue to quickly swipe at it before retreating. As she predicted, his eyes grew heavy, the depthless pools swirling in a storm of barely contained desire.

“Food has that effect.” He challenged, voice steady but his eyes gave him away. She noticed how his gaze flitted to her body, taking in her female form with appreciation. The black nightie she wore was one he’d picked out for her, the edges of it trimmed in delicate white lace. He’d made a comment when he gifted it to her about how it was the perfect embodiment of her spirit…dark and light, good and evil.

She inwardly basked in his appraisal of her, his approval meaning more to her than she dared to admit. “It’s not the food.” Her voice lowered slightly, overtaken by lust once the object of her desire had joined her. Thoughts of feeding were left behind and all she could focus on was having Dracula inside her.

He smirked, enjoying her shameless tongue. His hand tilted her chin up, his eyes zeroing in on the spot he’d claimed her and made her his forever. He didn’t have a pulse or heartbeat to read, but he did have certain tells that let her know just how much she was affecting him. He licked his lips, slowly and with purpose. His upper lip twitched ever so slightly, his taste for pleasure tied to his relentless appetite. And then there was the very prominent bulge beneath the confines of his trousers…the bulge that he brushed up against her hip.

“My new bride has quite the unquenchable thirst.” Dracula taunted, hand now tangling in her hair. Elena laughed lowly, silently agreeing with his sentiments, though the man was not any better. She reached for the thermos still clutched in his hand and set it on the table, holding his eyes the entire time.

“I missed you.” She confessed, pouting her lips slightly to convey her displeasure at finding him gone when she’d awoken.  

“I was only gone an hour.” He retorted flatly, not playing into her game. He eyed the thermos, displeased with her actions. “You need to eat, my dear.”

“An hour away from you feels like an eternity. Doesn’t it?” She mused as she played with his hand, entwining their fingers. She chose to ignore his instructions, instead focusing on the hardened muscle that begged for her attention, despite her husband’s words.

Dracula’s face softened, the fine lines smoothing as he watched her kiss his hand, her lips lingering on the tips of his fingers.

“Yes, it does.” He admitted softly.

Elena hesitated slightly at the declaration, not used to him being so straightforward with his emotions. The man loved to keep his feelings a mystery, claiming a majority of the time that he didn’t have the capacity to feel. But she knew better. And now that she was one with him, she could spot a lie if he spoke it.

She leaned into his sturdy form, her breasts pressing against the firmness of his chest. She grasped his hand in hers and placed it against her cheek, her face nuzzling into the now familiar coolness that lingered in his touch. It was a sensation she sought out often, no longer seeking warmth from another living being but the hollowness of the man who’d given her everything.

“You take such good care of me. Let me take care of you, my love.” She purred against his palm, catching the faintest of grunts from his lips. He made no move to succumb to her, but she knew he would. He always did. He just liked to extend her misery by making her work for it.

“You need your strength for such a job. You should eat.” He demanded again, tone as stern as a headmaster’s. It had an effect, just not the one he was anticipating.

“I plan on it.”

Elena reached on her tiptoes and brought his face forward, crashing his lips against hers. He responded immediately, the taste of her too tantalizing to ignore. Hands tugged at clothing as she took a step back and perched herself on the surface of the black marble table. Dracula followed, his mouth straying from her lips and travelling over the smooth canvas of her neck. His bite was not visible on her immortal body, but he remembered the placement well, remembered how smoothly his teeth sunk into her skin. It was like a knife cutting butter. Her flesh was made for his consumption, her blood now running through his veins. A parting gift.

She moaned when his hands delved under the hem of her black negligee, bunching the material at her waist. His hands stroked over her thighs and hips, coaxing her legs open to accommodate him. She complied as best she could while standing, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket so that she didn’t lose her balance. He responded by burying his face into the crook of her neck, her onyx hair falling around him like a curtain from the probing sun. He lifted her and set her gently on the tabletop, his teeth biting delicately at the phantom bite he’d bestowed her with.

“I need you…” She unabashedly begged when his tongue licked a long strip up her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her core against his blatant arousal.

“Take what you need.” He breathed into her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.

They got lost in the feeling of each other, Elena still reveling in the heightened sensations that her newest form allowed her. Everything felt intensified. Colors were brighter. Sounds were clearer. Pleasure was attainable with every touch, nibble, and lick. Sex was new, as if she’d been a virgin and was experiencing it all for the first time again. Dracula had shown her everything and he would continue to do so.

Her hands found their way to the button of his slacks, her lashes batting up at him with all the innocence of a nun. She bit her lip as she pulled at the hem of his shirt, getting closer to her goal. He only watched and waited, hands entangled in her tresses as she moved. He licked his lips, reminiscing on the taste of her. He would never forget what she tasted like. She’d stained his lips and seared herself onto his taste buds. He groaned when she finally freed him from the confines of his pants, her soft hand pleasuring his flesh with rushed jerks. He hissed when she ran her thumb over the tip, greedily soaking up the moisture that had gathered there.

Dracula tried hard to concentrate on her, but her touch was lethal. He’d had many lovers in his lifetime. Some were memorable. Most were not. Elena was different from them all. She was beyond memories, her spirit forever embedded with his. Her touch sparked a fire that he’d thought burned out long ago. It was further proof that he’d made the right decision in choosing her as his eternal partner. She was his.

“Dracula…” Elena called, her lips hovering dangerously close to his manhood. She’d left her perch on the table and lowered herself to her knees, a place she admittingly loved being.

He met her gaze, wide eyes that presented as innocent, but he knew them as anything but. “Feed.” He commanded, heavy hand guiding her mouth to him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head when her mouth surrounded him, saliva coating him like ice cream on a melting popsicle. He’d never been keen on oral sex, the mouth of others not always able to do the trick, but Elena’s mouth was downright sinful. Her tongue moved against him in such a way that had him tugging at the roots of her hair, his hips vibrating with the overwhelming need to thrust. He controlled himself though and let her do as she pleased.

She used her hands in conjunction with her mouth, all parts of her moving like a well-oiled machine. She gazed up at him as she worked, daring him to look away. But he couldn’t. Just like the first time he’d laid eyes on her, he couldn’t look away.

“Stand up, my dear.” He ordered suddenly. She did as he said, accepting the hand he’d offered to help her off her knees. He observed her for a long moment, letting his hand flatten along her throat and chest, a place that no longer held the signs of life. He took immense pride in that.

“You are my finest bride yet.”

Elena’s lips broke into a smile, her body edging closer to his. She felt him place her on the table once again, the gesture not causing the least bit of strain on his face. He pressed closer to her spread thighs, seeking the only heaven he yearned to be granted access to. He held her throat in his hand while she assisted him in joining their bodies. She teased herself with his hardness, coating him in her spilled juices. She angled him so that he nudged her sensitive bundle of nerves, a gasp breaking free from her lips each time.

Their eyes met and he knew the question was coming before she’d even spoken.

“Do you love me?”

“No.” He answered instantly.

She marveled at his ability to keep a straight face, though she could see the slight grimace when she’d pushed him further inside her depths.

“Will you ever love me?”

“No.”

She didn’t flinch at his responses. She expected them. But that didn’t discourage her. It’d become a routine almost. Each time she asked the same questions and each time he supplied the same answers. But something made her continue. Perhaps it was leftover hope from her previous life, but she persisted.

“You’ll fall in love with me, Dracula.” Elena rasped as she finally sheathed him within her walls. They both let out audible moans, fingertips digging into the cold flesh of the other as they united.

He released a breathy chuckle at her words, amused by her tactics. She was a cunning woman. “You’re wicked.” He mumbled against her lips, his hips setting a torturously slow pace.

Her hands tangled in his hair as she moaned into his mouth, struggling to catch her breath. He growled at the pain she inflicted when she pulled at his hair, her teeth biting at his lower lip.

“I’m yours.”

Her breathy avowal made a surge of ecstasy course through his limbs as he thrust deeper, taking pleasure in the way she whimpered in his arms. He assaulted her chest with kisses, pulling the straps of her lingerie down and exposing her to the chilled air. She leaned back towards the black surface of the table, urging him to follow her so that he could reach the hidden depths within her. Her thighs were secured tightly around his waist as his speed increased. Her back arched so that her hair touched the marble beneath her, her body ripe for the taking. And he indulged fully.

Elena could see bright lights behind her eyelids, the only brightness she’d be willing to throw herself into. Dracula penetrated so deep that she could practically feel him in her throat, words lost on her in the moment. His mouth lavished her skin, his teeth not fangs but still able to leave marks of possession behind. She clutched him within her walls, suffocating his length as he began to lose himself in the pleasure. His hips slammed against her with a new fervor and she held on, granting him permission to take her down with him.

The tide of desire swept both of them under as they each shuddered and tremored. Their limbs became twisted and tangled within each other, needing to anchor themselves to something solid. Euphoria settled over them like a fog as he filled her wanting walls with his spending’s. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, her hand caressing his back through his clothes. It was a tender moment in the afterglow. A delicate moment between two lovers who had the power to kill.

An exhausted laugh fanned across her shoulder as he straightened and peered down at her, still spread wide and encasing him within her. She was a decadent sight and vice versa. Immortality suited them.

“You should feed now, darling.”

His voice was gentle, his hands light as they traced along her face. She leaned forward and he met her halfway, not wanting her to stretch too far. They kissed lazily, their carnal appetites satiated for the time being.

They both pulled away and when they did, Elena embraced him, her head settling on the empty cavity of his chest. No heart laid behind the flesh, but she knew what he was capable of, knew the man was not completely devoid of a heart, even though he lived without its steady rhythm. He returned her embrace and reciprocated her earlier actions by trailing his fingers over her back. She felt content in that moment, knowing that one day, maybe a hundred years from now, Dracula was going to answer yes to her questions.

She had an eternity to look forward to.

[stanskzseungmin]

Operation Miroh | Stray Kids Mafia! AU ~ Chapter 1

Warnings: Violence?, Major Character injury

It was dark. The room was relatively quiet. The only noises that pierce through the silence was the beeping of the heart monitors and the light pattering of rain against the window with the occasional thundering.

You lie silently in your hospital bed. In the months you’ve been bedridden, you’ve formed somewhat of a delicate friendship with a patient who was your neighbor.

You didn’t know their name and they didn’t know yours. You both also didn’t know each other’s appearance with both your bodies heavily bandaged from the incident months before.

It was the same old same old. Your “friend” was peacefully sleeping beside you and the primary doctor, along with a nurse checking on your condition.

이필릭스

However, you see the nurse being taken away. A hand muffling and pulling her away. The doctor continues on without realizing what’s happening behind him. The figure reappeared, now behind the doctor cutting him off mid sentence with a metal wire wrapped tightly around his neck. Light choking noises escaped his lips as he was taken away into the darkness.

The figure came back into the light making his way towards the side of your bed. He swings his leg over your body carefully and slowly eases his weight down on you straddling you.

You take a look at his face taking in his features. His blond hair was carefully styled and swept to the side. Delicate freckles decorated his face, a small smile formed on his lips as his eyes turned into slight crescents. He delicately caresses your cheek. You revel in his warmth. 

Suddenly Felix was shoved off you. Your “friend” sent him tumbling onto a nearby cart. A loud crash echoed through the silent room.

Felix stood up without a single word and ensued the fight. The word was putting it lightly. Your “friend” was merely pushing and pulling Felix due to their physical injuries, and Felix just takes it.

At some point during the scuffle, you fall off your bed yearning for Felix’s warmth. You wince in pain; your eyes screwing shut. You see Felix getting domed with a metal tray.

Your eyes close once more.

Your eyes open.

A glass bottle shatters. Felix is completely drenched in rubbing alcohol. Felix grabbed your “friend” by the collar of their hospital gown and throws them over their bed into a different metal cart.

Your eyes screw shut once more.

You wince.

Pain. That’s all you can feel.

You hiss as pain coursed through your body causing you to writhe and roll on the floor.

Screams.

Was it yours? You can’t tell.

It was Felix.

Your eyes open once more. Felix’s small body was engulfed in flames. Felix stumbles and staggers bumping into the wall, a desk, then eventually rolling on the floor in a dire attempt to extinguish the flames.

Your “friend” grabbed Felix, quickly incapacitating him in Felix fit of weakness. He then tossed him out the window. You hear glass shattering as Felix was thrown out the window and the start of an oncoming thunderstorm.

리노

You and your “friend” tried to escape from the room. Upon entering the hallway, you heard a loud series of crashes ahead and behind you. Pipes were bursting. Piping hot steam filled the long hallways. Your "friend” supported your weight as they slung your arm across their shoulders as they led you down the steamy hallway. 

At the end of the hallway, an ominous figure appeared, a ghastly silhouette. A brunette appeared, his visage hidden by a custom made gas mask. Only his eyes were visible. In his hand, there was a delicate glass container filled with an unknown liquid. Once shattered and agitated, it will create a gaseous reaction- a lethal concoction.

황현진

Your “friend” swiftly redirected you down an adjacent hallway in a desperate attempt to escape. At the end stood another figure. A honey brown haired male donned in a skin tight white with black accents attire. An outfit carefully engineered to improve aerodynamics. On his shoulders lied an unconscious body, a certain blond freckled boy. He was fully healed with skin free of blemishes and scarring. There was no evidence of the Aussie being set on fire other than his burnt clothes showing otherwise.

The black haired man raised his chin narrowing his eyes. A threat. Felix is a physical reminder of what your “friend” had done. Your “friend” fucked up and they knew. They panicked and shove you down another hallway.

You make eye contact with the man in white. His eyes show disappointment and empathy. Disappointment of the hospital's poor efforts of medically treating you, a silent promise to do better.

김우진

Your “friend” pulls you down the hallway sprinting as fast as they could while supporting 

your weight. You both reach the double doors at the end. Your “friend” attempts to push the door open. Locked.

A hand smacks against the window. Your “friend” jump in reaction.

A face appears in the window. A menacing smirk was present on his face.

He begins breaking down the doors using his shoulders to ram the door repeatedly.  The wood easily creaked and moaned under the brute strength of the man. The splintering of the wood snapped your “friend” out of their frightened daze.

방찬

Your “friend” grabs your arm and doubles back down the hallway. Soft whirring can be heard. The overhead camera was following your every move. You smiled softly towards the red light glowing by the lens.

Your “friend” cursed under their breath noticing the camera.

김승민

They pushed you through a door into a dark room. The room was filled with several gurneys occupied by other victims of the incident. White sheets were hung up separating each one. Your “friend” pushed you behind one of the gurneys. 

The sound of sheets being haphazardly torn from the ceiling broke the silence.The curtain rings were scraping deafeningly loud against the metal bars that held them.

A flashlight quickly scanned over your area. Your  figures were hidden safely in the shadows.

Seungmin’s face was illuminated briefly inching dangerously closer. A groaning in the background caught his attention promoting him to turn away and head towards the noise.

양정인

Your “friend” grabbed your arms and silently made a mad dash towards the door opposite if you.

You both find yourselves in a hallway lined with windows. Each window was open; the curtains fluttered softly in the wind.

You let out a frustrated exhale from being repeatedly being taken away by your “friend.” They turned towards you, their exposed lips from their bandaged face opened in worry. Before a word can be said, a loud shot cracked through the silence. A loud whizzing sound could be heard. A bullet embedded itself in the wall.

Your “friend” lurched forward. Their hand desperately grabbing your shoulder pulling you down towards the floor breaking line of sight with the sniper.

한지성

You both crawl towards the elevator at the end of the hallway. They helped you up resting your weight against the wall.

They turned to push the button labeled L for “Lobby.”

The protective metal bar screen closes as a figure smashes against the metal, the bars creaking under the impact.

The figure’s upper half of their face was covered by an intricate porcelain squirrel mask. They tilt their head side to side mockingly. A smirk played on his lips as he raised a hand and began to wave goodbye as the elevator doors closed.

서창빈

Almost tasting the sweet taste of freedom, your “friend” held you tightly by your wrist sprinting towards the hospital entrance.

The same whirring sounds can be heard.

A bullet embeds itself into your “friend’s” shoulder - a warning shot.

A dark figure stood before them with a minigun held to his side. 

Your “friend” grabbed your hand squeezing it tightly. A silent “we’re done for.”

You release your hand from theirs.

They turn to look at you.

You reach up, quickly and effectively snapping their neck as their body fell limp.

If only they knew that you were one of them, Stray Kids.

You black out. The last thing you see was Changbin rushing over with his hand stretched out.

Author’s Note: Are you excited for the voting? I am! Voting starts tomorrow in Chapter 2!

[illshowyourhurricanes]

In the Line of Fire (Part One)

This is the first part of a three-part series of sorts based on this amazing prompt by the amazing Sarah Selecky. Starting this off with some season 2 Billy Russo!

Trigger warning: mentions of death

Rated: R (language, mentions of death, blood and gore)

Word count: 860

Tag list: @dylanobrusso @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor​ @ms-delos @madamrogers @lexxierave @benbarnestongue @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @poindexted @maydayfigment​ @thisisparadisemylove​

If you would like to be added to/removed from my tag list, let me know.

Enjoy!

He glanced at his reflection in the blood-smattered mirror; his eyes were still pitch-black. The thick, pink, ugly scars over his once-flawless face clashed with the scarlet smear of blood over his forehead. 

You ain’t so fussy anymore. You ain’t so pretty. 

Billy’s face twisted in a sneer of contempt. His hands were stained red even though he’d scrubbed them raw. He had dried blood outlining the outer edges of each fingernail, caked underneath them. Slowly, he realized his upper body felt damp, sticky, and he looked down at what was originally a white t-shirt in a daze. It was completely saturated with blood. 

He hadn’t forgotten what he’d done, and he grinned, smile gleaming with pride. He was more than satisfied with his handiwork. 

You ain’t lookin’ so good yourself, asshole. 

The splintered remnants of the stickball bat he’d snapped in half laid at his feet, and Billy nudged it out of his way with the toe of his combat boot. 

“I was a Marine.”

His own voice, hoarse and defensive, echoed in his head. He shook it violently. It had to stop. 

“Is that what you got for your service?” Arthur had nodded toward Billy’s face, the thick, pink scarring, the ruins and remnants of Frank’s retribution, and he’d let out an acidic laugh accompanied by a mocking salute. “Thank you, sir.” He could still hear that asshole’s voice clear as crystal, and his lip curled in disgust.

A loud noise of rage erupted from Billy’s throat. He kicked the discarded half of what remained of the bat. It smacked the wall, ricocheting off and skidding to a halt half a foot from Arthur’s body. . Lifeless. Bloody. Impaled. 

Lifting his chin, Billy swallowed hard. His throat was sore, dry. Every muscle in his body was tense and his head was pounding. A smack to the side of his head with one hand, he turned to the dirty mirror again and cracked his neck, moving it side to side. He rolled his shoulders, his right one not as willing to move as his left.

“You remember when you came at me with that bat?”

Gotcha this time, mother fucker.

Billy began to walk deeper within the house. With just a few long strides he found himself standing in Arthur’s bedroom. Bolting straight for an old, beaten down dresser, he yanked open the top drawer,  contents tossed around until he found a plain black t-shirt. It was thin cotton, cheap. His skin crawled with the knowledge of who it belonged to, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Laying the cotton t-shirt back over the side of the dresser drawer he’d left ajar, Billy peeled his blood-soaked t-shirt from his torso and back, lifting it above his head and tossing it to the ground. 

Blindly, he rummaged through garments in the drawer, grabbing for anything he could get his hands on and wiping at his bare chest, his abdomen, his shoulders and back. Most of the blood that had soaked through his discarded shirt and stained his skin had dried. Only a scant amount of red was visible on what he’d managed to locate, dead man’s clothing repurposed for soaking up blood.

Tossing it to the floor, he pulled on the black shirt he’d grabbed originally. It was tight over his chest, strained over his biceps, but it would do. He returned to the kitchen, slipped his arms through the sleeves the fake leather jacket he’d gained from the big-mouthed asshole on the bus. 

You’re one sad bastard. 

Billy smirked. One thing hadn’t lost was his military training. He could be silent as he trailed after his pray. He was quick and agile, light on his feet, cat-like. His hand curled into a fist: he could practically feel the cool metal handle of the knife he’d knocked from the stranger’s hand and picked up with his own. Briefly, he wondered what it felt like to know you were going to die from being stabbed by your own knife. 

He straightened the collar of the jacket, lined with fur,  and took one last look at his handiwork. Kneeling in front of the chipped kitchen sink, he found what he needed within two seconds. With one last walk through, the plastic container that had been over half-full was then empty. He traded the plastic jug for the handle of what was left of his makeshift weapon and pocketed the blade, slipping through the back door. Wooden and rotting and warped, it was already partway ajar. Billy scanned over his surroundings. There was no one in sight. 

Fishing into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a light blue, plastic Bic lighter. Tightly, he gripped the broken section of the bat with the jagged, splintered edge up. With a quick flick of the spark wheel, he held the flame to the bat, using the wood like kindling. 

He threw the blazing bat toward the dilapidated house the way he would a grenade back in Kandahar. I was a marine. He was quick on his feet, agile, car-like. As he ran from the house, his feet hitting the ground one after the other, he was almost silent. 

[dearrinsecurity]

Felony - Standrew

Rating: PG-13

This fic is based off of how Andrew reacted using the Felony knife. We can all agree that he probably has a knife kink.

TW: mentions of s*lf h*rm (no actual s*lf h*rm), mentions of knife play (no actual knife play bc I’m a tease)

Other Tags: first time, first kiss, light bdsm, dom!Andrew, sub!Steven, handjobs, bondage, smutty with a fluffy undertone (honestly it’s probably reversed)

———————————————————————

“I’m just gonna go put my jacket up. Why don’t you pick a movie?”

The two men walked into the door of Andrew’s apartment after a long day of editing in a small meeting room at Buzzfeed. When Steven replied with an enthusiastic hum, Andrew smiled at him, letting his eyes linger just a split second longer than they should before he snapped himself out of his daze and went to his room.

As he turned, Steven saw a box sticking out of Andrew’s pocket with the APL logo and “Felony Knife” on the side. Did he buy the Felony Knife? After quickly pulling up a random movie they had both seen a thousand times, Steven started to walk towards Andrew’s room, determined to get answers.

He flung the door open, remembering for half a second that his friend deserved privacy before the thought completely left his mind at the sight. Andrew was kneeling over a box of knives. Like. A LOT of knives.

“What the heck?” Andrew jumped as Steven’s voice rang through the room.

“Steven!” Andrew quickly shut the case, hiding it behind him and trying to exude an air of nonchalance, but his wide eyes betrayed his panic. “Hi! Do you- umm did you find a movie?”

“Umm. Yeah.” Steven pauses and looked first at Andrew, then to the case behind him. The silver-haired male watched pale skin flush as he directed his eyes back to his friend’s face. “What are you doing?”

“N-NOTHING!” Andrew’s loud tone visibly shocked Steven. “Sorry. I’m not doing anything. Let’s just go watch the movie yeah?” Andrew quickly ushered Steven out of his room, turning off the lights and closing the door behind them.

<3<3<3

Later that night, Steven couldn’t sleep. Persistent inquiries filled his mind.

Why does Andrew have all those knives?

Why are they in his closet?

Why didn’t he tell me he was buying the Felony Knife?

So, as a Buzzfeed employee, Steven did the only thing he knew to do when he had a question: research.

Steven knew that simply Googling “why does my friend have knives in their closet?” might not be the best idea, but at this point, he didn’t have any other choice. He had to know.

A lot of things popped up, from Reddit articles to other crazy things, and one of them caught his eye and made tears begin to form.

“The Best Places to Hide Self-Harm Tools”

Steven’s breath caught his throat. Andrew was self-harming?! Steven looked over at his alarm clock. 2:36 am. Whatever. Time didn’t matter. If Andrew was hurting himself, there was no telling how far he would go. Andrew didn’t even seem depressed or suicidal! Steven was sure he was ok, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he asked. And that’s what he was going to do. Now.

<3<3<3

Steven rapidly knocked on Andrew’s door, starting to regret trying to come over at 3 in the morning, but then he thought about what Andrew could potentially be doing and all rational thought went out the window. Getting the spare key from under the flower pot, he let himself in, quickly making his way to his best friend’s bedroom. He opened the door quietly as to not startle Andrew if he had anything harmful in his hand or...against his skin... Steven shivered at the thought.

He saw Andrew hunched over the box in the low light of his bedside lamp. He had a cloth in one hand and the Felony Knife in the other, cleaning the new blade. Steven slowly walked in and knelt at Andrew’s left side, seeing earbuds in his ears. He reached around Andrew and slowly stilled his hands. He held the wrist with the cloth in one hand and let go with the other to take out Andrew’s earbuds.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steven’s voice was shaky and low, barely above a whisper. Andrew turned toward him with a frightened look in his eyes.

“I didn’t think you would want to be my friend anymore. It’s a little weird. I just can’t help it. It feels so good.” Andrew looked down in shame, fidgeting with his fingers which had long since let go of the objects.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be your friend?! You’re amazing! And there’s no reason to be ashamed. Just let me help you.” Andrew’s narrowed eyes shot up in confusion.

“Help me?” There was a tinge of humor in his voice. “What do you mean by helping me, Steven?”

“Drew don’t-“ Steven reached down to grasp his friend's hands and he looked at his wrists. No scars.

He looked at Andrew’s thighs, exposed from the bunching of his boxers. No scars.

“Wait. Where are they?”

“Where are what, Steven?” Steven stood up and started pacing the room. Andrew replaced the knife properly and watched him.

“Your scars! Your self-harm scars! That’s the only thing-“ Andrew grabbed Steven’s arms, stopping the silver-haired man in his tracks.

“Woah! Steven, what are you talking about?” Andrew looked at the man with concern clearly displayed on his features. Steven took a deep breath and calmly started to explain.

“I saw your knives and I couldn’t stop thinking about why you had so many and why they were in your closet so I googled it and one of the articles that popped up mentioned hiding self-harm tools in closets and my brain kinda ran with it. I’m sorry.” Realization quickly dawned on Andrew’s face and he chuckled at the way Steven’s brain worked. He pulled the man in front of him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. Steven clung to him, slightly shaking from relief.

“Steven Kwo Wey Lim,” the shorter man whispered into his friend’s hair, “I promise you that I’m not hurting myself. Thank you for worrying about me, though. It means a lot.” Andrew pulled out of the hug and held Steven’s upper arms.

“Ok. That’s good. Wait. What were you worried about me finding out? And if it’s not self-harm then why do you have...” The taller man trailed off as he looked over at the case. Taking it all in, there was more than just knives. There were soft-looking ropes and cords, cuffs, bandages, whips, and a box of black latex gloves.

“Do you get it now, Steven?” Steven shook his head. A predatory look took over Andrew’s eyes. He leaned in and spoke lowly into Steven’s ear. “I don’t use these knives in the kitchen.”

The way Andrew’s voice dropped drew a gasp from the taller man. “You use them...in here?” Steven’s voice cracked on the last word. Andrew pulled back.

“Yep,” said Andrew, popping the ‘p’. “Do you want to see how?” The shocked look on Steven’s face drew a smirk from Andrew. He knew he won.

The honey-haired man grabbed the hands of his taller friend, bringing him towards his bed. He nudged Steven onto the foot of the bed and knelt between his legs. Steven’s eyes darted around, not focused on anything but the thoughts filling his head. “I need you to say something, gorgeous.”

“O-ok...” Steven blinked a few times and focused on Andrew, letting a small smile overtake his features. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I want to. Yeah.” Andrew picked up on Steven’s hesitance immediately.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“What? What do you mean? N-nothing’s wrong!” Steven’s high-pitched voice gave away how nervous he actually was.

“Talk to me, Steven. I know it may seem scary when I go into my ‘dom mode’,” he chuckled, “but you don’t have to be nervous. I promise that I won’t hurt you or do anything you don’t want. Tell you what. I’ll let you pick out what I use.” Andrew slid the box across the floor toward the foot of the bed.

Steven contemplated the bulky black case. He couldn’t deny that the thought of Andrew tying him up sent shivers down his spine. He bit his lip in anticipation. “Can you- umm...Can we use the ropes?” Steven didn’t meet Andrew’s eye. The blonde man chuckled and lifted the other’s chin with his fingers.

“You want me to tie you up, baby?” Steven let out a whimper. Andrew smirked. “Ok. We can do that.”

Andrew tipped up on his knees. “Can I kiss you?” At Steven’s responding nod, he placed a soft kiss on his lips, feeling the other boy immediately relax under his gentle touch. Andrew pulled back slowly with a soft smack, watching Steven’s eyelids flutter open. “Move up onto the bed, sweetheart.” Steven nodded at the order dazedly and began to scoot back.

He laid his head against the crisp white pillows. His silver hair and burning red cheeks stood out against the white cotton and Andrew immediately decided that this was a sight he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.

Andrew grabbed the ropes and placed them onto the bed next to Steven. Then, he positioned himself over the other man, using one of his knees to spread Steven’s pajama-clad legs before settling between them. His forearms were braced around a silver halo and he stopped, staring at the beauty underneath him.

Steven’s hands reached up from his sides to rest on Andrew’s flanks. “Dreeeeewwwww,” he whined.

“Yes?” Steven sighed in exasperation at Andrew’s smirk and teasing tone.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because you’re breathtaking, Steven. Absolutely stunning.” Steven flushed under the praise.

“You’re a liar.” Andrew chuckled at the childish tone.

“I only speak the truth.” They shared a small, genuine smile. Steven’s hands moved from Andrew’s sides to wrap around his neck.

“Stop being a sap and just kiss me, you loser.”

“Ok, baby,” Andrew chuckled. A new blush rose on Steven’s cheeks from the pet name and he smiled, humming into the kiss. The shorter man slipped his tongue out, running it along Steven’s bottom lip. His mouth opened at the request and Andrew slipped his tongue in to twist it around Steven’s. Andrew discovered that when he sucked on Steven’s tongue, he made the most delicious moan.

Andrew let one hand roam down, running along Steven’s side before grabbing Steven’s thigh and wrapping it around his hip. The surprised noise Steven made was quickly swallowed by Andrew.

Steven pulled Andrew down by his shoulders, causing him to collapse on top of him. Their bodies slid together like puzzle pieces. Both men gasped at the impact of their hips. “Oh,” Steven moaned as he bucked up into the friction.

“Look at you,” Andrew cooed. “My beautiful little virgin,” Steven whined at the praise through panting breath.

“Is- Is the virgin thing doing it for you?” Steven chuckled breathlessly at Andrew. His laugh broke off into a gasp as he felt Andrew’s lips and teeth working over his neck.

“It’s more the knowledge that you’re mine and no one else is ever going to see you like this,” Andrew mumbled against the pale column of his throat. Steven moaned at the words. The shorter man stared straight into dark eyes and winked. “But yeah. Virgin thing works, too.”

Andrew grinned down at the man beneath him. The mood changed in the blink of an eye. No longer was it hungry and desperate. When the two sets of sparkling eyes met, the loving mood set in. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” the shorter sighed. He moved one arm to stroke Steven’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Ditto.” Steven beamed, his tongue sticking between his teeth as he smiled brightly.

Andrew leaned down to kiss him, using the hand on Steven’s cheek to tilt his head. With the bite of a lip, the desperation returned. Andrew moves down to Steven’s throat, biting and sucking wherever the moans were loudest. As his tongue ran over Steven’s carotid, the silver-haired boy used the leg around Andrew’s hip as leverage, grinding against him through thin fabric. Moans rose from both men.

“Damn. Steven! Wait.” Andrew pushed his hips down into the mattress, disconnecting their groins. “Wait.”

“Did I do something wrong?” There was worry in Steven’s eyes.

“No, sweetie. You did nothing wrong. I was just very very close,” he chuckled.

“Oh!” Steven flushed. “I was too honestly…”

“Well, we can’t have you coming just yet. We haven’t even gotten you undressed,” Andrew glanced over at the smooth black ropes. “Or tied up,” he said with a smirk. Steven whimpered.

Their lips reconnected as hands wandered. Andrew propped up onto his haunches and pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. As he pushed Steven’s shirt up, he kissed the exposed skin, watching the muscle twitch in response. The shirt was across the room in no more than a few seconds.

Dark eyes watched honey hair travel down to a pert nipple. Steven threw his head back as Andrew’s tongue circled that spot on his chest. “Heh. Sensitive, are you?”

“Shut up, Drew. Hng!”

Andrew stopped his ministrations and leaned over to grab the black nylon ropes from the other side of the bed. “Arms above your head, beautiful.” Steven moved immediately, a flush covering his face as Andrew smiled at how quickly he obeyed. “Good boy.” Steven moaned.

Andrew tied Steven’s arms up in a simple knot. “Is this okay?” The taller man tugged on the ropes a bit before nodding slowly. “Hmm. That’s good.” Andrew ran his hands down Steven’s arms, relishing in the male beneath him. “You look so good like this, all helpless underneath me.” Steven writhed at the attention.

Andrew kissed down the paler man’s body to his waistband. “Can I?” Steven nodded quickly, drawing a chuckle from Andrew’s mouth. “So eager,” he said teasingly.

Andrew pulled on the elastic, leading it down long legs and down to the floor, admiring the view presented to him. Boxers came next after another nod of consent. “You’re absolutely stunning, Stevie. I can’t believe I’m the first person to ever see you like this.”

“Heh. You’ll probably be the last, too,” Steven said subconsciously.

“Why do you say that?”

“No reason!” Brown eyes turned down, avoiding the searching pair of the man above him. “It’s just… I don’t think I could ever trust anyone the way I trust you. I don’t think I could love anyone the way I love you.” Andrew launched down and kissed Steven fiercely.

“I love you, too, Steven. So much.” Both men smiled brightly at the other before connecting their lips in a sweet slow kiss. “How far do you want to go, love?”

“Just- just touch me? I don’t think I’m ready for anything else.”

“Ok, baby.” Andrew moved his hand down Steven’s body, caressing his side as the pale man panted against his lips.

Andrew led his hand down to Steven’s cock, wrapping a loose hand around it. His hips jumped at the contact, trying to thrust into the fist. “Drew! Shit,” he gasped.

“There you go, sweetheart. So good for me.” He was still thrusting into Andrew’s fist. The shorter let go, drawing a whimper from Steven. Andrew straddled the other male, grabbing both of the pricks in one of his fists.

“O-Oh!” Steven bit his lip, moving as much as he could into the friction. Andrew started humping motions, rubbing their cocks together and stroking at the same time.

“Hmm. You feel so good, Steven. Damn.” Andrew leaned down to kiss Steven, immediately adding his tongue and letting it dance around with Steven’s.

The kiss broke, a whine coming from the bruised column of Steven’s throat. “Drew. Drew, I think I’m gonna come.” Andrew hummed.

“That’s ok. Just let go. Come for me. Let me see you.” Steven tensed, white ribbons shooting from the head of his cock and onto his stomach. Andrew’s come joined his a second later.

Both men lay panting, Andrew propped up with one arm outstretched with a hand on the pillow and the other resting on Steven’s ribs.

The ropes fell from Steven’s wrists a second later. He leaned down to kiss the taller man’s wrists, admiring the twisting patterns the ropes left, before waddling to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. He wiped Steven down, littering kisses all over his body. The rag was discarded and both men got under the covers, cuddling into each other, kisses placed wherever lips could reach as they both fell asleep, sated and happy.

[akitokihojo]

#2!!!! “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Okay so this one is definitely not a drabble anymore! I really got into this one, and absolutely love the way it turned out!

—————

��Where’s Kagome!?” Inuyasha bellowed, his face twisted into a fierce scowl, heat surging energetically throughout his body.

The camp of bandits laughed and cheered as their demon leader took the stage front and center, his boots sloshing in the loose mud, an arrogant grin giving a curve to his thin lips. Inuyasha surveyed his surroundings, his sense of smell useless thanks to the onslaught of pouring rain. Thunder roared over head, a flash of lightning illuminating the grounds before them, and the half demon’s glower deepened even further, causing his nose to wrinkle and twitch. She wasn’t in sight, but she was there. His instincts were on alert, blaring, his ember eyes frantically darting back and forth to see where the hell they were keeping his wife.

“I was told you’d come.”

“I’m not here for small talk! Where the hell is she!?” 

The demon’s brows arched as his smile grew wider, one of shock, a chuckle causing Inuyasha’s blood to boil over. He had a white-knuckle grip on the hilt of his sword, the power emanating from the blade flowing, whirling, so much so that Inuyasha wasn’t sure he’d actually have to make any move in order to decimate their entire camp. All he needed was to make sure Kagome was out of harm’s way, and he’d happily rip apart each person there with a flick of Tetsusaiga.

“We have her, half demon.” He raised his chin upward in a way to hold his nose higher than Inuyasha’s head. Though they were yards apart and their heights were incomparable where they stood, it was common for demons to signify they were above Inuyasha in such a manner. “Put down your sword.”

“Like hell!”

“Put down your sword!” He hollered, his demeanor doing a significant one-eighty, his voice booming along with another clap of thunder. Inuyasha ground his teeth, keeping Tetsusaiga exactly where it was.

The demon glared at the hanyou, waiting for his order to be obeyed, a surge of infuriation causing heat to rise along his neck when the lesser-being adamantly refused. He wanted to play this game? Fine. So be it.

“Fetch the wench.” The demon growled to a nearby bandit, his command immediately followed. The group of men snickered and smirked, their hoots and howls growing more rambunctious as small, resisting grunts caused Inuyasha’s ears to twitch, moving closer to the forefront of the crowd. His gut clenched painfully, forcefully keeping himself glued to his spot, a wild heat burning at the walls of his stomach while she was dragged through the group, appearing in front of him. Another sharp, damn-near debilitating ache shot through his body, as if the strike of lightning miles off that lit up the marks on her beautiful face was actually coursing through his veins and threatening to cause him to crumple to his knees.

Kagome noticed the hanyou, an instant flash of anxiety washing over her, causing her feet to move in his direction and slip. Before her own mistake could make her fall, though, she was forcibly thrown to the floor, her cheek colliding with the wet, sticky mud. A roaring cheer erupted throughout the campground, laughter taunting her, something Kagome had recently heard too many times to count. To make matters worse, she could hardly pick herself up. Her wrists were tightly fastened behind her back, exactly where they’d been for the past two days, making it impossible to push herself away from the ground. She heard her name called, the beautiful, deep voice bequeathing her senses, and tears began to sting at the lids of her eyes.

Standing idly by while Kagome was tossed to the puddled floor, watching her use her shoulders and legs to turn her face out of the mud, not being able to help her was one of the hardest things Inuyasha had ever had to do. A close second was watching the putrid demon before him lay his hands on her. He’d picked her up to stand, pretending to be the gentle monster he wasn’t.

“Now, now, friends.” He settled the crowd, turning Kagome to face him. He bent down to meet her at eye level, swiping his palm across the dirtied side of her face to flick away only the clumps of mud that stuck to her skin. “Welcome to the party, priestess.”

With a quick lurch, Kagome spit in his face, the mixture of dirt and saliva smacking just beneath his eye. “Screw you!”

“Filthy whore!” The demon gripped at a chunk of her soddened hair, bringing a yelp from her mouth as he twisted her around to face Inuyasha, his other hand- after wiping his cheek of her spit- grasping her jaw and forcing her to face her husband. “Salvation is just feet away, and you still feel audacious enough to threaten your chances?”

“Stop it!” Inuyasha screamed, clutching his sword impossibly tighter.

“There’s your disgusting half-breed of a husband, wench! Look at him!”

Kagome cried loudly, her abdomen quivering violently as she ached to be in Inuyasha’s arms.

“Get your hands off her!”

“Or what?” The demon chortled, his fingers releasing Kagome’s face to travel down the loosened folds of her robes, revealing the center of her chest as he moved further down. “You’ll kill me? I believe your woman as my shield is all the protection I need.”

For the first time, Inuyasha allowed his eyes to sweep over Kagome, taking in the marks in various places. Her clothes were wrinkled and torn, barely hanging onto her frame, acting as the superficial layers of evidence of her rough treatment. Her kosode was practically translucent and sticking to her flesh. The dark stains of dirt and now mud all stood out heavily, even through the rain, and though her face was slick and smudged, he’d already seen the light bruises on her temple and jaw.

“Lower your sword, half-breed, and we may bargain.”

With minimal hesitation, and a few burning curses clutched in the middle of his throat, Inuyasha complied. Tetsusaiga was sheathed at his side, and he waited through the throttling cry of thunder before opening his mouth. “What the hell do you want?”

“The Sacred Jewel.”

“It doesn’t exist!” Kagome shouted, wriggling in his hold. He gave a steady yank to her hair, causing her chin to shoot upward as she followed his hand to lessen the pain.

Inuyasha instinctually stepped forward at her cry, bringing a quick warning from the offending demon. It’s never happened before, and he’d never admit this out loud, but Inuyasha found himself suddenly wishing for the incredible speed Koga used to bear. Hell, he’d even go for the speed that damn wolf possessed now. If it meant they could get Kagome away from the fucker as soon as physically possible, he’d even happily accept the guy’s help- and accompanied gloating.

The demon chuckled, his grip on her hair loosening as she was finally able to hold her head upright again. Quick, slow breaths caused her chest to rise and fall, her molten brown irises colliding with his as she blinked the drops of water flowing from the tips of her bangs from her eyes.

“You looked so tough with that sword, half-breed, I almost believed you could take me. Now that you’re standing there defenseless, all I see is a helpless dog.” The entire band of ruffians erupted into a boisterous laugh, backing up their leader and aiding to fuel Inuyasha’s incandescent fire. “Hand over the jewel, and you may leave unscathed with your- uh- partially scathed woman.”

“You want the Sacred Jewel?” Inuyasha asked, the hint of curiosity on his brow. “Not a problem. I’ve got it right here.”

“Show me!” The demon eagerly shouted, stepping forward with Kagome, causing her to nearly stumble with his jerk.

“Hang on, gotta fish it out of… I know I’ve got it here somewhere.” The hanyou dug through the small pockets in his suikan and hakama, patting the palms of his hands against his chest and trailing down to his stomach.

“Do not toy with me!”

“Who’s toying? You have my wife!”

“Then why has she been insisting it was destroyed!?”

“She’s a priestess, you dumb ass! It’s her job to protect the thing!”

“Inuyasha, no!” She played along, grunting at the sharp pull of her thick locks.

“I knew you were lying,” He goaded. “And you! You’re so willing to give it away?”

“It’s my job to protect her.” Inuyasha growled.

“Show me!” The demon repeated, a smile baring his dangerous fangs.

Inuyasha continued to rummage through his soaked robes, inching closer to them. The man tensed uneasily, pulling Kagome’s back flat against his torso, but never telling him to stop. She winced as his hand now gripped her arm, squeezing her bicep in anticipation, guiding her two steps forward. As if he found something, Inuyasha’s jaw set, a scowl settling heavily onto his face as he stopped, a formed fist visible within the confinements of his suikan.

“Trade off.”

“No! Show me, first!”

“That’s not the way this is going to work! You want the Sacred Jewel and I’ve got it! Quite frankly, considering Kagome’s state, I don’t fucking trust you to do the fair thing if I toss it over!”

“Bold, coming from someone who doesn’t hold the upper hand!”

“Don’t I?” Inuyasha cocked a brow indignantly. “In my hand, I hold a lot of fucking power.”

The demon narrowed his eyes, piercing the hanyou with a skeptical look. He wasn’t one to gamble with Kagome’s life, but what the hell else was he supposed to do right now? The way he saw it, she was in danger either way. If he whipped out his sword, he risked immediate repercussion, and she was at a distance that he couldn’t jump across quick enough. But, if he was able to get the leader of this dim-witted camp to come forward and meet him half way…

Inuyasha took another easy step forward, testing to see if the demon would waver. He didn’t. There was hesitation and dubiety, but he began to march through the mud. Every muscle in his body went ridged, a burning sensation spreading through his chest like wild fire scorching the woodlands. The closer they all got to each other, the more the embers fueled his motive. 

Finally, Kagome was within reach. He could see how tense her neck had become, both from the fucker’s grip on her head and from the stress, and he could see the heavy way her chest rose and fell, little twitches befalling her body. Rain did nothing to clean the smeared dirt from her cheek, but she blinked consistently to keep her sight of him clear. Then his eyes retrained on the man holding her, his thick hand gripping her arm so tight the soaked sleeve of her kosode bunched and folded. Inuyasha’s upper lip gave a twitch as he fought back his scowl, trying to remain as straight faced as possible during their transaction.

“Well, half-breed?”

Once more, he shifted his gaze back to Kagome, and she gave an infinitesimal nod in answer to his silent question.

“Nice doing business with you.” Inuyasha smirked, finally pulling his fist out of his suikan, revealing an extended middle finger. A flash of rage crossed the demon’s face, but before he could react, the hanyou lunged forward, throwing the same hand out to clutch his neck with enough force his opponent was thrown backward to the ground. Kagome gave a jolting whine, dragged down with the both of them as the demon had yet to release her hair. Inuyasha squeezed his fingers even tighter around the demon’s throat, listening to the forced gasps and strangled breathing, waiting him out until he let go of Kagome and opted to fight against Inuyasha’s grip. The bandits surprisingly stayed put, their dying shouts washed out by a clap of thunder. Without their fierce leader, they were nothing. “I find it funny that you thought I needed my sword to kill you. Who’s helpless now, bitch?”

Kagome squirmed her way to an upright position, folding her knees in the soft mud beneath her so she could turn herself around and scoot away. She scanned the camp of bandits, their eyes wide and jaws agape, searching for signs that they’d revolt. They were noticeably quivering in shock, some backing away from the scene before them. A flinch to the side caught Kagome’s eye as a man raised his hatchet and ran through the field, a battle cry breaking through the storm.

“Inu-”

“Close your eyes, Kagome!” He barked, and she immediately complied, pressing them shut and ducking her head as another way to protect her from the sight. Thunder shielded her ears from the deathly wail of the bandit, but she couldn’t hold back the shudder that came over her, or the hollow feeling in the center of her sternum.

There were some screams and heavy patting from hastened footsteps in the mud far from her, moving further and dying away. Still, she kept her eyes shut. It was the safest she’d been in over forty-eight hours, ironically where the darkness provided a sense of relief, because she knew her husband was on the other side of her borders.

The slosh of quick running in her direction caused her to flinch, a jerk at the reins around her wrists bringing a chocked gasp from her throat.

“It’s just me, it’s just me.” He hushed her, his voice losing the harshness it once held and soothing her shaking. Kagome felt the twisted rope fall from her indented flesh, the sudden and sharp tingles in her fingertips telling her that blood was flowing freely once more. It was painful and she couldn’t help but whimper slightly as she tried to rub and shake it out. Inuyasha’s clothing rustled as he shifted to her front, a calloused hand gently caressing the apple of one of her cheeks and bringing her eyes to blink open.

Once more, she scoured the area, peeking around his shoulders to make sure it was finally over. Two bodies lay behind him. The rest of the camp was abandoned. Inuyasha moved to block her view, incorporating his other hand against her jaw to gain her undivided attention.

Kagome’s bottom lip gave an unsettling quiver, her trembling breath painful to his sensitive ears. The tip of her nose and the clean edges of her cheeks became a shade of pink as she began to cry, clutching at his robes as she pulled herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She was frantic in her movements, burying her face in his neck as she clung to him.

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Inuyasha whispered, holding her, finally letting out his first steady breath since the moment she’d been taken. She was trembling against him, heartbreaking mewls warming the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you, Kagome. It’s okay now. I’ve got you.”

When her mind settled and the adrenaline coursing through her veins began to ease, she pulled away. Not enough for their arms to drop or a significant gap to form between them, but just enough so she could take him in. His eyes were shadowed, the denseness of the clouds hovering above growing darker as the sun began to set behind them. His silver hair was three shades deeper, thickened by the never-ceasing rain, causing rogue strands to stick to his cheeks and neck. He was even more soaked through than she was, his fire rat clinging to his body, no doubt chilling even a half demon.

“I’m sorry it took so long to find you!”

Kagome shook her head.

“No, don’t do that! Don’t be self-righteous right now, idiot! I never stopped searching for you; not for a second!” He exclaimed, using his sleeve to wipe her cheek clean of dirt. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I-I’m…” Kagome gave a violent shiver, the cold finally overcoming her as her nerves quelled. “Okay. Not hurt.”

Inuyasha gave a thankful and heavy sigh of relief, bowing down to press a kiss to her forehead. As a flash of lightning brought him back to their whereabouts, he quickly angled himself and wedged an arm in the curve behind her knees, tucking her head beneath his chin to cover her to the best of his abilities as he carried her off. She quietly requested they head home, understanding that it would take a bit longer than fortuitously stumbling into a cave or finding a nearby village- not with the help of Inuyasha’s nose. It might even be quicker considering the circumstances. All the hanyou wanted was to get her warm and dry, but he’d be damned to deny her anything she requested right now.

Kagome’s fingers curled against the center of his chest, gently clutching the hem of his suikan, releasing to fiddle a little, then clutching again, her nails gently scraping against the thread as she distracted herself. She still shivered slightly, but as they moved further away from the thickness of the storm, the rain fell softer, fading into a meager drizzle. Each breath she exhaled provided him with a further sense of peace. Bruises would fade, as would this nightmare of a situation, and he’d personally make sure to be the herbs that prevented any emotional scarring. She was okay- thank god she was okay. She survived the worst, and he could take it from here.

[sensesdialed-aa]

HEADCANON - INJURIES IN FFH AND EFFECTS

During his vacation, in less than 24 hours, Peter went to Berlin, was attacked by Mysterio’s illusions, got hit by a train, and stopped the London attack. Obviously, he was left with a ton of injuries from all of that, but what exactly WERE they, what happened after he left the bridge, and how long did it take to heal? 

Peter gets hit a LOT during this short period of time, and although I did write down every single time he does ( or hits into something/gets injured in general ), this is going to be a SUMMARY of what happens to him to cause these injuries. 

First, he’s shot in the chest with a Stark Industries Combat Drone, which is strong enough to push him backwards ( and cause him to hit floors of the building twice before landing on his front ) and leave a hole in his suit, but its durable enough to not effect him further. He then does things like accidentally punch the building, fall when he dives to save MJ, falls several stories through a window ( he was really falling out the building when in the illusion he fell through glass and webs ), hits his back hard on a car, goes through more hurtful illusions ( fighting other selves, hitting head on “snowglobe” ), and gets hit by a train. 

Then, in London ( although I can’t describe all of it cause I’d be here all day ), he’s hit with drones multiple times, cuts it incredibly close with shots and explosions, is on fire, gets shot with energy blasts and squished between two cars before falling into water, crashes through the glass of the bridge, and is shot back one more time before destroying the drones. 

It’s a LOT, especially considering that’s the most concise I could make it, but then...what is he left with? ( note: simple bruising/smaller injuries from illusion scene not described cause they’re much worse later, but they start there )

First off, a pretty bad concussion. He hits his head a LOT of times ( even before these scenes with the bell in Venice ). That concussion definitely isn’t gone by the time the battle is over based on how much he keeps hitting his head.

After the train, he’s left with a TON of cuts and bruises along his body ( notably the one on his right cheek ), and incredibly bad bruising ( huge and dark ) up his right side, which is where he took the brunt of the hit. He has broken ribs as well, which are mainly on that side. 

Fractured/broken femur ( right leg, shown by him holding it while he limps )

A LOT of internal damage/bleeding

He gets dragged underneath the train for fifteen seconds, which means it was 1. burning hot, 2. he had to avoid the engines and wheels that could have sliced him, and likely did at least get cut a little, 3. he was likely dragged against the railroad before pulling himself up as well. 

P.S. when he finally collapses onto the train, he wraps his hand around his RIGHT SIDE

Happy does stitch up ( probably a bad cut ) on his upper back and maybe a couple more places, but that isn’t FINISHED once Peter gets up, and stitches likely reopen during the fight in London. As well, when getting there his smaller bruises and cuts likely began to heal, but not the major injuries. 

MORE, way worse cuts and bruises. From getting repeatedly hit with drones, hitting against cars and being trapped between them ( which also makes his internal damage and bruising up his torso from the train worse ), and even crashing through glass ( suit was already torn, could have likely cut him ). Noticeable ones are the cut on his cheek, the nosebleed, and on his chin/bottom lip

BURNS, his back was literally on fire at one point, which visibly leaves a lot of burn marks on his suit and then tears through it at one point. Even the FRONT has huge burns, so logically, his back should be even worse. This means he absolutely has visible burns on his back after the fight. 

THAT is what he’s left with after the battle. The major injuries from the train have not healed yet since it hasn’t even been a day. During the final scene on the bridge, he is still running on adrenaline and doesn’t pay too much mind to it. But once he begins to walk away, that adrenaline fades, and the pain kicks in. Often during the fight, he struggled to get up coughing and groaning, and now it all sets in, and he can barely even walk anymore. He slumps against a car, just barely stopping himself from falling over. In addition to the pain, the SHOCK of nearly getting shot in the head hits him as well, he’s shaken up by it. He does manage to get himself off the bridge, and has no choice but to get help from Happy to patch himself up. During that time, he’s in a lot of pain, and even though he’s acting fine, every move is incredibly challenging.

The first to heal are the smaller cuts and bruises. By the time he is off the plane and arrives home, those are gone. However, the larger injuries take much longer to heal. Luckily, most of his classmates don’t pay much attention to him, and he can hide the way he’s limping everywhere he walks, the bad bruising covered by his clothing, all the internal damage they can’t see, and more. Once he’s home, that is NOT healed. He’s still limping, and he needs to take things easy for a bit ( definitely also falls asleep on the plane for a while because of how exhausted he is ). Even by the time of the mid-credits scene, which is at most a week later, remnants of the internal damage could still be there. 

Overall, he’s INCREDIBLY hurt in a short amount of time, which leaves both marks that heals, scars that refuse to go away, and a lot of important effects on him that last longer than it’s really shown. 

[ladybalem]

Eternity - a Confession about Alex Forbes - part 2 of 2

SMUT ALERT: BLACK MAGIC SMUT AS FAR AS THE EYES CAN SEE * <If someone pour holy water here today, it gonna boil. Prior, bring me a liter, please. Fun fact: Uncle Redmayne must have a foot stepping into the occult: When he played Alex, he was into black magic; when he played  Jack, he was a son of a witch; (LOL!) when Osmund, he hunted and tortured witches; and now himself is the wizard Newt. Mmm, I don't know. That's SO suspicious > ****************** WARNING: CHILDREN, DO NOT TRY TO DO IT AT HOME. * * * (Continuing...)          Opening the bedroom's door, Alex gave her passageway, and Grace entered in his wide room, having a sigh of admiration. The Forbes' house it was huge, there was no doubt they were a rich family, but Alex's bedroom, by itself,  it was almost the size of the living room of Grace's former house, and she stood there, looking around, a little dazzled, while he closed the door, locking it. There was nothing visible around that denounced something different to the bedroom of a rich and absolutely common teenager boy, and turning on the lampshades around, Alex turned off the bright light at the roof, the room diving then into a yellowish and cozy clearness, and running into the window he opened it widely, the full moon's light that was right ahead the high window striking on his face and bathing all of the floor ahead, and with a satisfied sigh he once again turned into the inside, while saying:          - Today the moon's phase and position are perfect - and he smiled fugaciously at Grace, before to take a key from inside a drawer and to kneel down ahead a chest covered by a tapestry, and taking it off from there, Alex unlocked it, opening it, starting to pick out from there some antique books, yellow candles yet partially used, bird's feathers, crystals and some other things, placing them on the floor ahead himself in an excited way, and as soon as he took a piece of cloth carefully between his hands, he got up, turning to face her, with eyes sparkling of pleasure - Look at that, Grace - and he started to unpack the cloth, showing her a complete nestle, having three feather bird's eggs inside.          - Do you keep the eggs inside the chest? - Grace asked him incredulously.          - They're fresh - he said - I recover them always at the eve - and lowering himself again he left the nestle on the floor zealously, taking then out of the chest a yellow crayon and a bit of twine, and leaving it all behind he started to quickly wrap the rug which was covering the wooden floor, from the middle of the door into the window way, under which he left it. And seeming satisfied he observed for a moment how the grayish moonlight was striking right on the floor before that, seeming to be suddenly forgotten of Grace's presence there, and he just ripped out the tee he was wearing, tossing it on the bed, and standing on his feet he ripped off his tennis and socks, placing them aside, and taking position on his hands and knees on the floor he traced a large circle using the crayon and the twine as a compass, having it almost three meters of diameter, and right in sequence he traced another by the inside of it from its concentric point, while Grace kept observing him in silence.          Excited by what he was doing, Alex was breathing heavily, with eyes wide open, and Grace was taking notice of the precision to which he was doing such things, just as if he was used on doing them frequently, seeing him in sequence to position a little compass on the center of the circles and using the twine now with a crystal tied at its edge, he started to mark the vortex of a pentagram on the floor, to which he traced with the crayon carefully. But suddenly distracted, Grace began to take notice of his body, his quie lean and white chest and back, all covered by freckles, that under that light became just as like little golden dots, and she found him irresistibly beautiful shirtless under that light, and she bit her lip all of a sudden, trying to fix her attention again on what he was doing then: Taking one of the books and opening it, he skimmed it nervously until to find what he wanted, starting to copy symbols from it to the inner side of the circular band around the great pentagram in a hurry way, tracing them quickly, taking then another book and doing the same, before to start lighting the candles, spreading them around the large circle, at the total number of a dozen, starting then in sequence to position at each one of the vortexes a glass of water, another containing earth, a lit red candle and at the other one an incense stick, and when he finally placed the nestle at the vortex above, it was with triumphant eyes that he raised his glance to Grace, with a smile on his beautiful lips as he said:          - It's done - and getting up, with his gaze fixed upon her Alex came into her way and Grace asked:          - What will we do, Alex? You didn't tell me yet - and Grace truly couldn't suppose nothing by what she was saying, cause a lot of the symbols used there by him were unknown to her. And approaching enough to slightly took a handful of her hair while with his other hand he was touching her face, he whispered:          - You've got what I need, Grace. And you were finally sent to me.        Feeling a shiver under his touch and proximity, Grace blinked her eyes, confused.          - I'm not getting it.          - You'll understand it soon - and saying this he lowered her face to kiss her, first just lightly touching her lips with his, so smooth and warm to her as their sight promised they were, to then in sequence to make a bigger pressure. And feeling his long fingers to move from her hair to her nape and the ones on her face to her chin, Alex stretched his tongue into her mouth, and whispering, Grace moaned, suddenly comprehending what he wanted. And soon his hands were going down into the baby-look tee she wore, his fingers getting under it slowly and touching at her silky skin under it, never stopping kissing her.          Luckily Grace had already some experience in this subject, but she never before had sex with a boy that wasn't her boyfriend, and to think it scared her a bit, being her not much sure if she should do that; and taking in advantage when Alex lowered his face to kiss at her neck, while slowly bringing up her blouse, placing both hands on his arms Grace whispered under a breath:          - But, Alex... We're just friends, isn't? Is it right we two doing this?          - But Grace... The friendship - he whispered against her skin, his warm exhalation on her neck causing her shivers - is the purest form of love that there is, because it's free - and he lifted up his hands to her breasts under her tee - Just like the feather birds - and Grace couldn't tell how or why, but she felt wickedness hidden in his words, and turning to kiss again her lips, he pulled her baby-look up, and Grace lifted up her arms, letting him to take it off from her, and with a smile he looked at her naked breasts, the chainlet hanging between them, and touching them he moaned - You're beautiful... Absolutely beautiful.          And when he kissed her again, Grace this time grabbed at his back, her hands sliding along it as their chests united between, and sighing she felt his hands descending until her waist, and then over her jeans, to which Grace let him to open and then slide his large hands through her hips while panting against her face, and when Grace felt him to glide his fingers under her panties, gliding hers along of his long arms Grace sighed under a breath:          - Alex...          - Come - he sighed back, sliding her panties down and taking it off from her - You've got what I need - and as soon as he saw her naked he slid his eyes for her for whole, slightly placing his hands on her hips, feeling ravished - You've got what I need within you, I feel it - and he pulled her into himself, and with a sigh Grace felt his arousal under the jeans he was still wearing, and raising and offering her lips to him Grace said pretty lowly:          - And what do you want, Alex?          - ETERNITY - he responded, with a saturnine voice, as he started to unbutton and open to his own jeans in a hurry, putting himself on naked quickly, as he glued himself to her while kissing her with urgency, taking one of her thighs and lifting it up to rub himself against her, who holding to him moaned softly, as he said - Come. It's almost midnight. It's right on time.          And letting her go, he took her by a hand and gave some steps back into the way of the circle traced at the floor, carefully passing over the candles, and taking position with his back to the upper side of the pentagram, where it was situated the nestle, Alex sat down in lotus position at the center of the drawing, bending his legs, not taking his eyes away from Grace not even for a second, and as soon as he arranged himself, he raised her his right hand, calling for her:          - Grace, come.          With a smile, she stretched him her right hand and carefully passing over the candles too, Grace took place towards him, standing and looking at him from above, as with a ravished gaze he slid his eyes along her, focusing then on her sex, and with his fingertips he touched at her belly, saying lowly:          - My priestess. I receive you. We'll be united, and we'll be one, and we'll be bonded - and then he slid his fingers even downer, touching at her most sensitive spot with his thumb, and closing her eyes, Grace sighed in pleasure - And we'll complete each other. I receive you - and suddenly he stretched his neck into her, kissing on her sex with reverence, and never before someone had did her such, and placing her hands on his shoulders Grace sighed, Alex stopping for a while to give her a second kiss, before to stood away and say - Come!          And slowly Grace crouched, passing her legs above his bent ones, her heart pulsating and palpitating on her chest as she was approaching her face from his as well the center of their bodies, and arranging himself with a hand under the girl Alex took position at her entrance, against which, biting a lip, Grace felt its tip to slightly rub, and against her face he whispered still a third time, before that with the other hand on her back to pull her down and over himself, as he kissed the tiny medal between her breasts with wet lips:          - I receive you!          And as she got down, Grace was little by little penetrated by him, leaning on his shoulders as she moaned deliciously, letting him to pull her down by now with both hands, to the end, and completely fulfilled for him Grace panted and took a deep breath, grabbing at his hair and closing her eyes tight shut.  And smiling a mysterious smile Alex bit at her chin as he whispered:          - My wanton black priestess. Show me your power - and he lowered his face, hiding it at the curve of her neck - Open the portals to me, come.          And starting to move her hips against his, Grace made him to moan against her face, the candlelight gilding their naked bodies, the full moon's light towards the opened window pouring itself on their heads, and grabbing at his shoulders and raising her face inflamed of pleasure to the silver moon Grace moaned, with a voice which seemed to be no more her own:          - Yes, my Templar disciple. I will open them. Tonight. * * ***************************** * <And 9 months later it was born Rosemary's baby... LOL, sorry, I couldn't resist> * <You there who was wanting to see some fuck in the middle of a circle surrounded by candles, here it is, your crazy one. Now leave me, cause I'm going to pray along 200 rosaries to get rid of the bad luck. Bye, bye.😅> * *********************************** * MY CONFESSION TO PRIOR PHILIP: Hi, prior, what? What am I doing? I'm washing the Church, ouch. Come, Jack, come, help me, lift up this bucket right there and turn it on the floor, please! *Jack lifts up the wooden bucket and turns it, tossing ahead its content, that falls on the floor boiling and releasing smoke* What? Why am I washing the Church with acid? But it isn't acid, prior Philip. IT'S HOLY WATER. It's boiling like this cause someone had traced here at the floor a lot of symbols of black magic, it's that. It was hard to clean the outlines, wasn't it, Jack? Tell the prior how much it was hard... I'm telling you, prior. Jack, another bucket, do me a favor. *takes a straw broom and starts to rub the floor* What broom is this? I took it there with my lil' mother in law. Ouch, by the way, I'm a woman who can say, having no fear of being sinning, that my mother in law is a witch, cause she is, isn't, Jack? *Jack smiles* By the way, how much I love my mother in law, omg, Ellen is so beautiful, Jesus. *Jack turns another bucket full of holy water and the floor boils again* Prior, it's better you come here later, go out for a stroll, I don't want you to wet the hem of your habit, please. Cause then you'll lift it up, and you've got beautiful ankles, and things will get difficult, cause there's not enough holy water for me to take a bath, go, go, go!  *Philip gets out of the Church* Jack, will we two be up to clean it all? Mmm? To call your mother? Mmm? To kill a chicken? No, Jack, she did it in Alfred's wedding and his stuff never got up again; no. I want it to keep getting up, for the love of Balem, it's just to wash off the pagan heresy! *he turns another bucket full of water* Ok then, let's keep rubbing it patiently, ok. *stops, lean on the broom, stares right at Jack and smiles* If there's a thing I like to do, it's to rub along with you. I'm yet thinking about to let Alex to frequent here more times. AMEN LORD BALEM!

[pangtasias-atelier]

The Goddess's Judgement Part 3

Direct continuation of part 2. This series is probably the most fun I've had writing in a really long time lol. I have a really soft spot for RD. I've played it around 10 times at this point.

This also kinda lost its fat focus, but the entire plot of this part is about moving Ike so it's not entirely devoid of it.

______________

Nursing his soup, Kyza delicately sips from it. Savoring the flavor, he smiles at the addition of basil. Lifting the spoon to his mouth, someone bumps into Kyza, the small amount of liquid spilling on the table.

"Watch your step, soldier!" Kyza reprimands. Ignoring the uptight comment, Kyza straightens out his clothes. Despite being one of the smaller tiger Laguz, Kyza's clothes had ripped during his growth, the tigers affected the most overall from their judgement. Having common sense as Kyza refers to it, his first order was to mend his clothes. And mend them he did, the outfit a heavily let out version of his uniform. His vest unable to be closed without tearing it, he has it open instead, his gray tunic on display. His old pants still fit, the typical loose Laguz pants coming extremely in handy for a majority of the Laguz.

Still sitting down, Kyza's stomach presses into the table despite his best efforts at proper posture and sitting as far back on the bench. Most of Kyza's weight went to his stomach, the tunic clinging around it for its dear life, every stomach roll perfectly visible. His thighs and rear didn't receive the same attention as his stomach, Kyza positively apple-shaped.

Kyza abruptly stands up when he sees Ranulf enter the dining hall. Loathe to admit it, he couldn't prolong food forever, his stomach winning rather than searching for his captain.

"Captain!" Kyza dutifully calls as he makes his way to Ranulf, his stomach slightly quivering against the tight tunic, the fabric caught in his love handles. Both among the smaller of their species, Kyza's size diminishes Ranulf's, the subordinate still larger than the captain.

Ranulf smiles upon seeing Kyza. "We have a situation, meet me outside the dining hall," Ranulf slinks back into the kitchens, raiding it as every soldier currently is.

"Yes sir," Kyza salutes, marching to the entrance. Standing straight against the wall, chest puffed out, his fat upper body more prevalent now, Kyza waits.

A few minutes pass by before Ranulf rejoins him, a large bundle of food now in his hands. "Follow me," The two make their way, neither of them talking, the silence instead filled with their snacking.

Reaching Ike's room, Ranulf unceremoniously opens the door. Heading in, Ranulf ignores Kyza's flabbergasted face.

Unable to even begin thinking on formulating any words, Kyza instead trepidatiously walks inside, each step mindful of Ike's overflowing body.

"You'll be fine Kyza. We need your help," climbing onto Ike's moobs, Ranulf brings out the rest of the food, which is admittedly far less than he had intended, and feeds it to Ike. Happily accepting it, Ike can barely register the conversation.

"We have to get Ike out of here, so-" Ranulf puts a hand out to stop Kyza's interruption. "So, I need you to tear down the wall leading to outside," Ranulf points to the wall opposite of the door, Ike's temporary room thankfully on the first floor.

"That's Sir Ike?" Kyza uncalmly shouts, walking around Ike to verify for himself. Indeed agreeing that it is Ike, Kyza stutters before taking deep breaths, his moobs and stomach rising and falling. "Suppose I break the wall, we can't possibly move him," Kyza gesticulates towards Ike, the hero of Crimea, now immobilized.

"We gotta start somewhere. And your the strongest tiger I know, so are you going to help Ike or no?" Smirking at the compliment working, Ranulf claps at Kyza's answer.

"Of course, captain! Pardon my earlier dissent," Kyza carefully walks around Ike, making sure to not step on him. Past Ike, Kyza transforms, the energy much more restrictive than before, he slashes at the wall a meager five times before reverting back. "Excuse my poor performance," Kyza groans as he wipes his face with his handkerchief, his face sweaty. Despite the few attempts, the wall already gives way slightly, Ranulf correct in putting his trust in Kyza.

"Good job," Ranulf commends. "Now how to move him out of here?" Ranulf murmurs as he feeds Ike a loaf.

"Even twenty of our strongest warriors would face difficulty in moving him,"

"Yeah, there's too much surface area." Ranulf pensively thinks, handing Ike another loaf. "Doesn't someone have a wyvern?"

"A wyvern would struggle with such a weight. And I doubt a wyvern has the intelligence to be able to move Ike," Break over, Kyza transforms back, chipping at the wall again. Another five slashes and some of the bricks fall, a hole now in the wall. Kyza takes another break.

"If we get enough Laguz to push Ike onto something, we could have a wyvern pull Ike," Ranulf figures out, handing Ike two loaves.

"That seems like our best bet," Kyza confesses, resuming his job.

"Hey Ike, who has a wyvern?"

"Haar," Ike wheezes out.

"Isn't he the one that's always asleep?" Ranulf questions, trying to imagine where he would be.

Ike nods his head, his cheeks and chins quivering in response.

"Keep at it Kyza, I'll be back with a wyvern," Hopping off of Ike, Ranulf's ass and thighs shake.

His first instinct to check for the scent of wyvern, Ranulf pinpoints Haar's room. He opens it only to find it completely empty. Grabbing a satchel, Ranulf sniffs it, Haar's smell on his nose. Following the trail, Ranulf ends up outside and finds them.

Asleep against his wyvern, hands resting on his stomach, Haar snores as he leans back. Originally a snorer, Haar's fattened body only worsens that trait. Larger than Ranulf and even Kyza, Haar's entire armor is now gone, none of it able to fit around him anymore. His entire uniform is now gone, his corpulent body too big for it. Haar forwent clothing, his briefs enough to cover him and his weight and wyvern enough to warm him. Considering the several half naked Laguz and Laguz as naked as Haar, he's in good company. His growth mostly focused on his rear, Haar's ass generously lifts him up as he sits on it asleep. The black briefs hug and pinch his thighs, a noticeable indent as they dig into him. His stomach rests on his lap, his engorged thighs having extra room for a larger stomach.

Detecting Ranulf's presence, Haar's wyvern alerts him, making noise and even getting up.

His support gone, Haar yawns as he falls back, now slightly awake. "What is it? It can wait later..." Haar reasons, eyes drifting back asleep. Wyvern not having any of it, they smack Haar with their tail, the appendage landing straight on his stomach. "I'm up, I'm up," Haar groans, snacking his lips. Haar bluntly reacts upon seeing Ranulf. "If you need anything, I'll pass,"

"It's about Ike; he needs your help," Ranulf pleads. "And your wyvern's help,"

"He can ask me himself," Haar retorts, a yawn escaping his lips as he scratches his rear.

"Well he's stuck," Seeing Haar's confused expression, Ranulf sighs. "You just have to see for yourself,"

With his wyvern's insistence, Haar follows Ranulf, the two of them waddling back. The trek back is cut short, Kyza already done tearing the wall.

Haar widens his one good eye, not expecting his leader to resemble a blob. Checking to make sure, Haar comes face to face to Ike.

"Haar-" Ike begins.

"Yeah yeah, save your breath. I'm on it," Heading back to Ranulf, Haar begins questioning them. "I can't just move him-"

"We know, I already have someone getting Laguz to help push Ike onto something and then your wyvern can pull him on the snow,"

"You alright with that, partner?" Haar's wyvern having a much better work ethic than him, they screech into the air, ready. "Okay, that's two things figured out. So what are we going to push Ike on?"

"I haven't figured that part yet," Ranulf admits.

"I have captain!" Kyza shouts, trudging something behind him. Several tigers follow behind him, all fatter than him. "I refurbished the tables to remove their tops and combined them," Kyza happily explains.

"You did all that this quickly?"

"The other Laguz assisted me, once they knew of Sir Ike's plight, we rushed to create this,"

Inspecting the makeshift sled, Ranulf smiles, patting Kyza on the back. "Great job everyone, now everyone head to the other side," Listening to their commander, everyone does so as Ranulf places the table turned sled beside Ike.

Everyone pauses at Ike's size. They all squish and grab his fat, everyone marveling at it.

"This is no time to dawdle, I need everyone to push and lift with all you got!" Ranulf yells to cheer them.

Listening, everyone stands side by side on one side of Ike, everyone bulbous bodies bumping into each other, the warm extremely warm despite the cold snowy weather. On Ranulf's first count, they all bend down and reach under Ike's body. By his third count they heave, Ike slowly being pushed and lifted. Grunting and complaining the only sound, everyone cheers as they slowly turn Ike. Now on his side, everyone congratulates themselves before giving one final push, sending Ike flat on his back and onto the sled. Even with tables combined to make it, Ike still overflows it, his sides grazing the snow. But he lies firmly on it, enough to be pulled.

Haar tying a rope to the added pole on the makeshift sled is the turning point, all the Laguz now leaving to resume their eating.

"Don't overwork yourself," Haar pats his wyvern on the back. A screech returned his way causes a frown. "I overwork myself all the time," Ignoring their owner, Haar's wyvern slowly trudges through the snow, Ranulf and Kyza making sure Ike doesn't fall off. Ike shakes as the wyvern drags him, his chins and cheeks wobbling. His stomach sways back and forth and up and down, the pauses taken by Haar's wyvern making Ike jiggle all over.

"Where are we taking him? We can't leave him outside," Haar points out, waddling at a distance with his arms crossed.

"The reception hall will have to do. It's big enough and close enough to an exit," All agreeing with Ranulf, they slowly head towards the main entrance at a snail's pace. A couple of close calls with Ike almost falling off, all the crises are averted. Opening the door, the wyvern enters; dragging Ike inside, the wood scrapes against stone as everyone covers their ears. Everyone except Ike who's too big to move his arms anymore.

Finally back inside the castle, everyone sighs. Haar unties his wyvern. Already ready, Kyza presents a bag of meat to them, the wyvern happily flying away with it in their mouth.

"I earned a well-deserved rest," Haar comments seconds before he rests against Ike. The stone doesn't faze him, his cushiony ass providing sufficient enough comfort. Sinking into Ike's stomach as he leans into him, his warm leader lulls him to sleep.

Ignoring Haar, Ranulf shakes his head. "Thanks Kyza, there's no way I was moving him on my own,"

"No thanks needed captain," Kyza salutes as he happily marches away, happy to receive a compliment from his superior.

Hearing not one but two sources of snoring, Ranulf whips around, finding Ike soundly asleep, somehow tired from everyone else working. Ike's massive stomach rises into the air with each inhale and falls back down with each exhale.

"Guess I've earned a nap too," Ranulf shrugs. Climbing on top of Ike's stomach, Ranulf stretches, glad for a rest. Ranulf kneads Ike's stomach, getting comfortable before taking his rest.

[kenzie-kitty]

Enemies? Part 3 -Batman/Joker

Part 1 || Part 2

Part 3 and probably the Finale of this BatJokes adventure

This will probably be the most smutty part of the story, just fyi. Also may be triggering, and I don’t want anyone to hurt from this so this is your warning.

It was also at this point that it becomes a little more campy and silly in some parts, meaning I was giggling rereading this. 

Thank you for coming this far! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was two days later and Joker was back in his joke shop. He’d told his Bat where he’d been staying, receiving a few jokes just because of his choice, and was dropped off after spending an hour exploring the Batcave. He’d spent the past two days grinning nonstop and staring out the front windows of the abandoned shop, daydreaming.

He hadn’t put any makeup on either, mostly because he assumed his Bat would be busy stopping crime that he wasn’t causing this time. He was currently sitting in front of his small TV set watching an old episode of The Addams Family; he chuckled as Gomez and Morticia struggled to find a woman for Uncle Fester and failed each time. Suddenly, a breaking news report flashed onto the screen; he was about to change the channel, but figured it was worth watching just to see the end of the episode.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m your newscaster Mike Engel here to give you some good news,” a man announced from outside a doorway that looked familiar to Joker. “I’m here at the penthouse of our beloved billionaire, Bruce Wayne, for the extravagant ball he’s holding. Now, Mr. Wayne, could you please tell us why this party is so important,” Engel said as the camera panned out to show a very well-dress man who Joker knew to be Gotham’s wealthiest playboy.

“Well, Mr. Engel, this party is being held in the hopes that the Joker will show up,” Wayne said bravely, smiling into the camera as anyone within earshot gasped in fear.

As they continued talking, Joker leaned forward in astonishment. ‘That voice… I… I know that voice, but it can’t be… He’s a billionaire! He wouldn’t possibly be able to find any time in his life to dress up as a bat and save people. Could he?’ Joker’s ears didn’t lie, he could recognise a voice in a crowded room filled with the sound of a TV that’s lost signal. Bruce Wayne is… Batman.

~~~~~~~~

Bruce waited anxiously in one of the chairs in his living room for his clown to show up; he wasn’t going to go out and face the last of the party who had stayed if only to try to pretend they’d be willing to protect him from the infamous Joker. He hoped his clown would show up, and he had no doubt that his voice would be recognisable to him.

He faintly heard the elevator ding as the elevator car arrived and the doors slid open.

~~~~~~~~

Joker stepped out of the elevator alone and looked around at the small amount of people who were there; they stared back fearfully, he assumed mostly because he had a shotgun in one hand. He wasn’t sure who would be waiting for him when he got here, and he’d wanted to feel slightly comfortable; it was the same reason he’d hastily applied his makeup.

After scanning the crowd for the billionaire who had a lot of explaining to do, and not finding him, he growled at the nearest waitress, “Where’s the Playboy?”

She pointed a shaking finger at a door next to one of the walls of windows, breaking down into tears of relief when he merely stalked past her without killing her. As he stepped up to the door, he heard the other party guests rushing for the elevator and stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce remained seated calmly in his chair even when the door was shoved open and roughly slammed closed. “Glad you showed, Joker,” he greeted quietly. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that his makeup-faced clown was holding a gun at his side. “I hope that’s not meant for me,” he said, nodding toward the gun.

Joker glanced at the weapon as though he’d forgotten he had it before placing it on a nearby table. “No, uh, it was for in case…” his voice trailed off as he glanced nervously around the large room.

“In case of what? In case I had a bunch of cops waiting for you?” Bruce was vaguely offended, but realised quickly that Joker was just not used to being cared about. “I wouldn’t do that to someone I cared about. Besides, I had Batman speak to Gordon about taking the price off your head,” he smiled lightly, winking at his little quip about his secret identity.

Joker nodded, although he was still shiftily looking around the room as if he expected a SWAT team to jump down from the room or through the windows at any moment. Bruce assumed that was pretty close to exactly what his clown was thinking.

Bruce stood slowly, noticing as Joker’s nervous gaze landed immediately on him, and adjusted his tuxedo so it wasn’t wrinkled from sitting. He then took slow steps toward his clown, stopping just in front of him; even without the Bat suit, he was a good two inches taller than Joker.

“I didn’t call you here to have you taken away from me,” Bruce assured him, placing a comforting hand on his clown’s forearm and smiling when Joker didn’t react negatively. His clown even gave him a little smirk, which showed to be the reason for his makeup always being cracked.

“So… you’re a, uh, playboy billionaire who dresses up as a flying rodent to save the city?”

Bruce laughed and nodded. “Yeah, but I never actually liked being a ‘playboy’. Women aren’t all that much fun,” he murmured, stepping closer and forcing Joker to move back before he got stepped on. Joker suddenly found himself backed against a wall with Bruce pressed against him, his hands place on the wall to either side of his head.

“Really? And you’d much prefer a guy in clown makeup?” Joker was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe normally as he felt Bruce’s warmth surrounding him.

The man in question grinned as he moved his face closer to Joker’s. “I’ve always loved a guy who knows how to laugh,” he murmured as his lips met his clown’s. He slid his hands down the wall until he reached the purple covered shoulders and pushed the fabric down until it fell to the ground. He then pushed the suit jacket to the ground on top of it, followed by the green vest.

Joker’s hands pressed themselves against Bruce’s tuxedoed chest until they moved to sit at his hips. His brain had stopped the second he felt those lips on his own, but when he felt the warm tongue lick along his bottom lip he thought he was going to melt. He happily opened his lips and moaned lightly when he was pressed harder against the wall, his head being tilted back by the hand tangled in his hair so Bruce could deepen the kiss.

When Bruce pulled back, Joker couldn’t stop himself from instinctively moving forward to try to keep the kiss going; he moved away quickly, looking away embarrassed. Bruce gently cupped his clown’s chin with his hand, turning it so he could see his face. “It’s ok, I didn’t wanna pull away either, but I also don’t feel like having to wash the makeup off my face… again.”

Joker chuckled, more so at the red paint staining his Knight’s lips, chin and the tip of his nose. “Too late. May I, uh, suggest baby wipes?”

Bruce smirked back before giving him a peck on the cheek and leading him through the large penthouse to his room. Joker wasn’t surprised to see the expensive looking… everything; the bed was covered in a navy blue comforter and had gray sheets underneath, the deep blue curtains were covering the large window across the room, and the other furniture was a dark mahogany.

“If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind, uh, showing me your real face?” Bruce asked him cautiously, knowing his clown didn’t go anywhere without makeup on.

Joker wasn’t sure how to respond; he wanted to, but he was afraid that seeing his facial scars clearly would end everything; people had a habit of running away from the man with the gruesome scars. He licked his lips in thought, vaguely noticing how Bruce’s dark eyes followed the movement, before nodding and nervously inhaling; his tongue pushed against his inner cheek when his other nervous tick made its appearance. Bruce offered a hand out to him and, when Joker took it, pulled him toward the bathroom.

“Do you… want me to go?”

“No, it’s fine,” Joker stepped further inside the (large) bathroom to allow his Knight through the doorway. He was handed a small bottle of face cleaner and a washcloth; he tried to hand the cloth back to the other man but Bruce wouldn’t take it, saying he didn’t care if it got stained. Joker twice folded the cloth into a medium sized square and poured a small amount of the cleaner onto the square. He brought the cloth up to his face and wiped his forehead, revealing his natural olive skin; he then wiped the black makeup away from his forest green eyes, and the white from his nose and upper cheeks.

He avoided looking in the mirror as he poured more cleaner on the clean side of the cloth and wiped away his Glasgow grin, knowing his scars were completely visible to Bruce. After he wiped away the makeup from his chin and neck, he turned to face Bruce nervously. ‘Moment of truth, I suppose,’ he thought, his heart racing.

Bruce stepped closer to him, cupping Joker’s cheek with his hand. Joker closed his eyes as he felt Bruce’s thumb caress the scar on that side.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Bruce was concerned, he didn’t want to have accidentally put his clown in pain; he’d caused enough hurt in the last couple months, he didn’t want to do any further damage. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when Joker shook his head and opened his green eyes.

“No, it’s just… people usually just look at me with fear and find excuses to leave. I’ve heard them all, including one about someone’s dog calling them,” Joker admitted, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

Bruce frowned and opened his mouth to say something before closing it again. Joker prepared himself for his Knight to toss him out and was surprised when he instead began kissing his scars. Bruce lightly traced the jagged scars with his lips before reaching the light lips at the middle; without makeup, they were a light tan color and were soft for a guy who constantly had greasepaint covering them. He placed the hand that had been on his clown’s cheek on the back of his neck, gently holding him in place.

Joker smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s neck to pull him closer. “Thank you,” he whispered against his Knight’s lips.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce murmured back.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Joker had been told to make himself at home while Bruce went to work the next morning; he had also been told not to burn anything, but he hadn’t been planning on doing that anyway. For once in his life, he actually wanted someone to like him and not stop liking him. Which meant he’d have to hold back the urge to create a bomb and just… blow something up.

So, he decided to spend most of his day wandering around the large penthouse, to try to learn more about the billionaire vigilante than what anyone could find by doing an Internet search.

He’d only been awake for an hour when his plans ended in the kitchen; he had to admit, he’d never had as many breakfast choices as he had now. To his relief, he was alone in the kitchen as he opened and closed cabinets to see what food was there. He didn’t want to impose too much, as he wasn’t quite sure exactly how long the welcome would last, so he found a box of cereal (Bat Charms) and was about to pour the milk for it into the bowl when he heard the door open.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred stepped inside only to pause when he saw the scarred man staring at him as though he’d been caught. Alfred knew instantly who the man was, no one would ever be able to forget the scars, but he wasn’t scared; he couldn’t be when he’d known the man had stayed the night and was going to hopefully stay many more.

“Good morning, Mr. Joker,” he greeted in his kind yet professional way. “Did you sleep well?”

Joker shuffled nervously, placing the carton of milk on the counter in front of him. “Morning,” he replied quietly, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, I did. Thanks.”

Alfred nodded, stepping carefully toward him; he didn’t want to startle him or come off as a threat. “If you’d like a hot breakfast better, I could make you something.”

Joker glanced at the box of cereal he’d put on the counter along with the milk before looking back at the older man. “I, uh, didn’t want to… impose…”

“Oh, it’s no bother. Master Wayne told me to make sure you felt comfortable here and got almost anything you wanted. Although, I do think he was kidding when he said to hide the knives,” Alfred quipped with a smirk.

Joker chuckled and nodded, grabbing the milk and cereal to put them back in their places. “Well, in that case, what are my options?”

“Anything you wish, sir.”

Joker thought for a moment before gaining the courage to ask for the one breakfast he hadn’t had for years. “Pancakes?”

Alfred nodded and began moving around the kitchen, preparing the requested food. “You can go relax, Mr. Joker, and I’ll bring you your food when it’s done,” he assured him.

Joker nodded shortly before leaving the kitchen and finding his way to a room with a smaller table and only four of chairs. He assumed this was Bruce’s personal dining area; sitting at one of the seats, he rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands under his chin. He was really starting to like Alfred and was glad he hadn’t killed him the last couple times he’d been to the penthouse. The older man had a certain wise charm that Joker couldn’t quite name but knew he liked.

As though his thoughts had summoned him, Alfred entered the room and placed a plate of perfectly round pancakes in front of Joker along with an assortment of toppings.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted to go with them, so I brought you different toppings. If you’d like anything else, just shout,” he gave a slight bow before stepping out of the room.

‘I don’t know how he got them so perfect, but I know it had something to do with magic,’ Joker jested to himself as he poured maple syrup over the stack and covering them in powdered sugar.

~~~~~~~~

Joker made sure to stack his now empty dishes on the end of the table; he was cleaning any mess he’d made off the table, more out of personal habit than anything else. He’d always been forced to clean after he ate or drank or did really anything.

“Mr. Joker, I just want to remind you that it is my job to clean,” Alfred’s voice sounded behind him, amusement clear in his tone.

Joker turned to face him and shrugged. “Old habits, and whatnot,” he said sheepishly.

Alfred gave him a kind smile before grabbing the dishes out of his hands. “I assure you, old habits are not as tricky to put an end to as most would think,” he nodded at the scarred man before once again exiting the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time had passed as Joker explored the penthouse, and after lunch he found himself standing in front of one of the large windows in the ballroom he’d come to know too well. In all his time in Gotham, he’d come to realise that he’d never really looked at the city, not in the day at least. He knew it was large, but from Bruce’s building it also seemed electrically alive.

He was so distracted by the city, he didn’t hear the elevator open or the footsteps that followed. The arms that suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind startled him, but he relaxed when he smelled the familiar cologne of his Knight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce murmured in his clown’s ear. He’d finally been able to get out of the meeting with a potential client and had rushed home, hoping his clown hadn’t left. He was pleased to see the familiar slouched figure standing in front of a window, wearing the same blue-ish purple hexagon-patterned shirt and deep purple slacks he’d worn yesterday.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad it was you. You have no idea how terrified I’d be if you’d been Alfred,” Joker chuckled, sinking back into the taller man’s chest. He felt more than heard Bruce’s chuckle, and grinned at the deep sound.

“So, how was your day? What did you do to amuse yourself?” Bruce asked curiously as he turned Joker around in his arms so they were facing each other.

“I just looked around, rummaged through your kitchen, came to realise that Alfred’s really wise,” Joker said casually.

Bruce grinned at the vague answer, although he knew exactly what he meant by Alfred being wise. “Yeah, he’s something alright. As I’m sure you know, he’s kind of been my only parental figure since my parents… passed.”

Joker wasn’t quite sure how else to reply besides nodding slightly. It suddenly occurred to him that the way Alfred acted seemed almost fatherly; he wouldn’t really know firsthand how a father should act, but he was sure it was close to how Alfred acted with Bruce. His thoughts were interrupted by Bruce’s soothing voice.

“Did you want to get your things from your, uh, hideout?”

Joker had forgotten about that, but agreed he probably should get his things. He realised that his henchmen would either be waiting or gone. “I, uh, forgot that I had a whole team of criminals working for me. I should probably send them all home,” Joker grimaced as he tried to think of something to tell them. ‘They’d probably laugh me outta the city if I said I was retiring for a billionaire. Although, it’d be worse if I said it was for Batman,’ he thought with annoyance at the idea of them losing the fear he’d inspired merely because he’d fallen in love.

“Why not just tell them you’re taking a vacation to make sure you don’t get bored, but you’ll let them know if and when you need them again,” Bruce suggested, head tilting slightly, somehow seeming to read his clown’s mind.

“Are… are you, uh, suggesting that I’ll be needing them again?”

“Well, this city needs both hero and villain. It shouldn’t have to matter that the two happen to also be lovers,” Bruce pointed out with a suggestive smirk.

“Mr. Wayne, I believe that harboring a wanted criminal is illegal,” Joker teased.

“Apparently, so is dressing up as a flying rodent,” Bruce retorted, brushing his nose against Joker’s playfully. Joker chuckled and leaned into Bruce’s chest, effectively giving him a cuddling hug; Bruce smiled and held him there, kissing his clown’s head lightly. The green dye that had covered his light brown hair was fading and Bruce suspected he would be dying it again soon.

They stood in each other’s arms for a few heartbeats longer, until Bruce decided he wanted to change into more comfortable clothing. Joker followed him into the bedroom as his Knight stripped off his suit; by the time they stepped into the room, Bruce had taken his jacket, tie and shirt off and tossed them sloppily onto the ground next to the laundry hamper.

Joker gasped lightly when he saw the bruises and scars scattered across his Knight’s back and shoulders. “H-how many of those were, uh, from me,” he asked in an apologetic murmur. He wasn’t surprised that he had scars but the amount that were there and how severe they looked had startled him.

Bruce, who had began rummaging through his closet, looked up at him with a slightly confused expression before he realised what his clown was referring to. “Not too many, you haven’t been attacking me as… harshly as you used to,” he assured calmly,though he was telling the truth.

Joker winced nonetheless as he thought back to the days when he thought his feelings for Batman were those closer to hate. He supposed the reason it hurt him now was because he’d forced himself not to think about the pain he’d caused his Dark Knight.

“Hey, trust me there are no hard feelings between us,” Bruce comforted him before giving him a smirk that could only be described as saucy. “Well, there is one thing.”

Joker chuckled, feeling a blush threaten to spread across his face; to his relief, it didn’t. Bruce had turned back to his closet digging before stepping into the bathroom, seemingly finding whatever he’d been looking for. Joker took the opportunity to make a quick phone call to his henchmen.

“Boss! You alright?! We was worried you’d gotten captured by the Bat or something,” his favored of the small “organization”, as he called it, shouted excitedly into the receiver.

Joker had to giggle slightly at how close the assumption was. Regaining composure and trying to sound as normal as possible, he threatened, “Not, but if I hear about any of you, ah, going against me, I’m gonna make sure to set a specific example for the rest of you. Got tha-t?”

He could practically see the fearful expression that should be plastered across his man’s face. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought of the fear, but shrugged it away so he could hurry and give his instructions to the man. “Alright, now, listen. I want you to round up about, ooh, five other guys and meet at the new Gotham General around, say, nine-ish. I won’t be meeting you all there, but believe me I’ll be watching closely. What you’ll be doing is sneaking in to take three filled bottles of pain meds, a bottle of pancuronium bromide or Pavulon, and a pack of syringes. Drop them off at the joke shop at midnight, preferably behind the counter, and then go home. If there is one thing missing, the six of you will all be shredded. Understand?”

He heard a slight rustling and assumed the man had nodded, not entirely realising he wasn’t being seen. “Y-yes, sir.”

Joker was about to tell him to also grab medical tape, but he was suddenly unable to form words. Bruce had walked out of the bathroom at that very moment in nothing except dark blue basketball shorts. Joker cleared his throat slightly and managed to mumble a distracted “Good, good” before hanging up and dropping the phone next to him on the bed.

“What do you need pain meds and an anesthetic for?” Bruce asked, not quite noticing how his clown was staring at him. Had he noticed, he likely would have imagined him drooling.

Joker tried clearing his throat again, hoping he could distract himself enough to be able to hold conversation without staring at the muscular and tanned chest of his Knight. “Oh, uh, n-nothing right now, I just thought I’d have it around, uhm, just in case,” he managed to stutter out.

Bruce, stepping over to his previously discarded suit, bent at the waist to pick the clothes up and place them in the hamper. Joker couldn’t help but smirk a little as he glanced at the billionaire’s ass, but looked away as he turned back around.

“In case of what,” Bruce asked, stepping closer to his clown. Joker looked up to see his Knight’s waistband just in front of his face.

“I-in case we need, uh, to, uh, tend to wounds,” Joker stuttered, feeling his mouth slightly water. Bruce leaned forward, causing Joker to fall back onto his elbows. ‘If I’d known I had been sleeping next to this man last night, I would’ve acted on… well, all of my urges,’ he thought, licking the inside of his cheek along one of the sensitive scars.

“Or do you just like to keep your men in place,” Bruce’s throaty question sent shivers down Joker’s spine at the entendre in his words.

He decided to figure out what exactly his Knight was trying to lead them into. “Uhm, Bruce? I know you’ve probably realised this from the moment you put those shorts on, but, uh, you’re very hot. And you’re being very not subtle about coming onto me.”

Bruce’s eyebrow raised at the implication, noticed how his name seemed to roll off his clown’s tongue, and smirked in a vaguely evil way. “So you’re saying that we have two hot men in a bedroom, one on the bed and the other half naked, and they haven’t started to do anything yet? Huh, I’m shocked… and you’re horny,” he growled suggestively.

Joker groaned, feeling his pants grow tighter than they already were and realising that they’d soon become painful if he didn’t take them off. Before he could move on his own to do anything, he was being pulled back into a sitting position, finding himself much closer to Bruce’s crotch than he had been before. His mouth watered and he couldn’t stop himself from placing his hands on his Knight’s hips and pressing his lips against his stomach.

Bruce moaned lightly as he felt his clown’s scarred lips kiss languidly down his stomach, the sound becoming more of a growl as those lips neared his throbbing cock. Joker took the waistband of the dark shorts between his teeth and looked up at the billionaire with a fake innocent look, winking suggestively before tugging them down and sliding to his knees on the floor.

“Fuck, Jay,” Bruce groaned in euphoria as Joker wrapped his lips around his hard cock, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he sucked once before pulling back slightly. He inhaled sharply as his tongue swirled around the tip, his mind completely going blank with pleasure as he felt a hand slip down and squeeze his balls slightly. He tangled his hand into Joker’s surprisingly soft hair and tugged his head back sharply, causing him to let out an aroused mew. “How’s that gag reflex?”

“What gag reflex,” Joker purred, knowing exactly what Bruce would do next.

His Knight didn’t disappoint him as he thrust forward harshly, his cock being forcefully thrust down Joker’s throat. He paused a moment to let his clown adjust how he was sitting so that he wouldn’t be knocked over before he started slowly fucking his throat. Joker giggled around the large cock as Bruce picked up speed, choking only a couple times due to his giggling; he couldn’t help himself, the image of himself being face-fucked by the rich playboy amused him.

But it also aroused him, causing his own cock to ache with need; he used the hand that wasn’t currently squeezing his Knight’s hip to undo his pants and slip down the front to try to relieve the pressure. He matched the speed of his strokes to Bruce’s thrusts, making himself moan as he teased the most sensitive spot on the underside and running his tongue along the same spot of Bruce’s.

“Oh, god, Jay. I’m close, I’m so close,” Bruce rambled, his words slurred with his oncoming climax. Through the fog of arousal, he noticed the obscene sounds Joker was making, the wet popping sounds and slight choking especially moving him. He felt his balls tighten and knew he couldn’t hold his climax off any longer; he came with a grunt, the warm liquid spurting down Joker’s throat.

His clown swallowed as much of Bruce’s cum as he could, but some had managed to escape his mouth and he could feel it dripping down his chin. Bruce growled slightly at the sight of his cum on his clown’s chin, but when he saw the mess Joker had made on the floor he went wild.

Gripping Joker’s shirt by the collar, he shoved him back onto the bed and tore it open, tossing it to the floor where a few buttons had clinked down. He climbed on top of the smaller man and roughly pressed his lips against Joker’s, his hands tugging the purple pants completely off and tossing them with the skirt.

“Jay, I’m so fucking turned on,” he growled into Joker’s ear, nibbling on his neck just below his ear. Joker bit his lip and moaned, his back arching into his Knight’s chest, as his neck was attacked with Bruce’s tongue and teeth.

“Then what are you waiting for, my Knight,” he taunted breathlessly. “Fuck me already!”

Bruce growled in his clown’s ear before hooking his thumbs inside the waistband of Joker’s purple and green striped boxer briefs, tugging them down teasingly slow as he continued nipping and licking his way down to his clown’s collar bone. Joker couldn’t help but let out a harsh sigh of relief as his painfully hard cock was released from the tight fabric of his underwear, the sharp exhale turning quickly into yet another moan as Bruce sucked on the skin just above his nipple.

“I’ll fuck you… when I feel that you’ve begged enough,” Bruce growled, his teeth suddenly digging into Joker’s shoulder and causing his clown to let out a surprised bark of laughter. He couldn’t help but notice the way Joker’s hips spasmed more at the pain than at anything else; he decided he could use that knowledge to his own advantage.

Joker attempted a growl of his own, the sound sounding strained, and shifted under his Knight; although he’d been asking for it, he wasn’t begging. And the Joker doesn’t beg, so he informed his beloved of this fact.

Bruce glared playfully at him and shoved his fingers roughly into the mass of green-tinted hair, yanking him off his back and onto all fours. Joker didn’t fight back as he felt the mattress shift behind him, feeling warm fingers caress his sides lightly. “Oh, believe me, you’ll be begging,” Bruce promised, smirking as he dug his nails into his clown’s hips, enjoying the aroused whine Joker let out.

“Nope,” the clown objected breathlessly. Bruce shook his head even though his clown couldn’t see and once again burying his fingers into his curly hair, this time pulling him up onto his knees. Resting his chin on the shorter man’s head, he held one shoulder in one hand and used the other to graze over Joker’s hip, coming close to but avoiding his hard cock.

“C’mon, J. You’ll have to give in soon, and no, I’m not gonna let you help yourself,” Bruce smirked, his hand stopping its movement to rest just above Joker’s shaft.

“Fuck,” Joker cursed under his breath, knowing his Knight was right and that he couldn’t suppress his needs; he pressed back against Bruce, teasingly grinding his ass into the other man’s bare crotch, grinning when he heard the low groan that made Bruce’s chest vibrate slightly against Joker’s back. “Bruce,” he whined, knowing he sounded very much like a cheesy porn star.

Bruce moved the hand that had been on Joker’s shoulder so he was able to flick his finger over the hardened nipple. “Not good enough,” he whispered into Joker’s ear.

“Please, please fuck me, Bruce! I need it, please,” Joker begged as Bruce’s nails scratched up his side; his back arched as the pleasure pain sent shivers down his spine and straight to his leaking cock. He suddenly found himself on all fours again as Bruce pushed him forward, and he spread his knees further apart for his Knight. He heard the familiar sound of a condom wrapper being opened and moaned when he heard the slick sound of lube being spread.

“Do you want me to prepare you or would you prefer doing it yourself?”

Joker smirked even though he knew Bruce couldn’t see it. “I think the question is, do you wanna finger me or do you wanna watch me finger myself?”

Bruce hummed in thought for a heartbeat before responding. “I’d love to watch you do it yourself, but I’d also like for this to not end quickly,” he teased, spreading leftover lube around two fingers.

Joker gasped when he felt a cold finger penetrate him and lowered his head to his now folded arms, now feeling the digit slide out to be replaced by two. A breathy moan escaped his throat when the two fingers thrust further into him, scissoring open to stretch his tight hole. A third finger joined the other two as Bruce sped up the pace, earning a squirm and a loud moan when he brushed against Joker’s prostate.

“Now would be a, uh, great time to use that thick cock of yours, Batsy,” Joker growled breathlessly. He knew he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer, his cock twitching in anticipation.

Bruce slipped his fingers out of his clown’s hole, replacing them with the tip of his latex-covered cock. He gripped one of Joker’s hips with one hand and put the other on his clown’s shoulder for leverage as he slowly pushed himself deeper inside Joker’s ass. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured in Joker’s ear.

“For fuck’s sake, just fuck me!” Joker’s needy growl sent shivers down Bruce’s spine and he thrust forward forcefully, burying his shaft fully inside Joker’s tight hole. Joker’s back arched as he grinded back on his Knight’s cock, drawing a strangled groan from the taller man.

“God, why haven’t we done this sooner?” Bruce breathed as he froze in place to let Joker’s hole adjust to his size.

Joker chuckled breathily, “I assume it’s ‘because I’m a psycho murderer?”

“No, not psycho,” Bruce corrected. “But the whole murderer thing probably didn’t help.”

Joker laughed again before pushing back against Bruce. “Enough talk, let the fucking ensue!”

Bruce chuckled, though the sound had a growling undertone, and pulled out so just the tip was inside his clown. “If you insist, Jay,” he replied. Joker let out a gasped cry as Bruce thrust forward quickly then repeated the thrust over and over, creating a rhythm of hard thrusts.

Bruce’s thrusts came faster as he felt Joker tighten around him; Joker moved with each thrust, his teeth digging into his own arm, which muffled his aroused cries of assorted expletives. Bruce, his mind reminding him of Joker’s masochism, dug his fingers into his clown’s hips. Joker gasped and moaned, his own fingers clutching at the dark comforter.

“I know you can do a lot better than that, doll,” Joker taunted, his voice bouncing from his Knight’s hard thrusts. His hand gripped his own cock when he felt the fingers on his hips tighten; a surprised yet aroused yelp escaped his throat when teeth suddenly sunk into his shoulder, and his hand began pumping his cock for the second time that afternoon. He vaguely felt nails scrape his sides, but was too distracted by the euphoric tingling in his shoulder and his own right hand pumping his shaft.

His aforementioned hand was suddenly pulled off his cock and placed back on the comforter, only to be replaced by the taller man’s hand. Bruce’s lips, no longer on Joker’s shoulder, were pressed against his ear. “I let you touch yourself once, Jay, but it’s my turn now,” he murmured huskily. Joker whimpered submissively as his Knight’s hand moved insufferably slow along his length.

“Please…,” Joker trailed off helplessly.

“Please, what?”

“P-please let me cum,” Joker pleaded, thrusting his hips into Bruce’s torturous palm in attempt to gain more friction.

Bruce continued with his slow strokes, the leisurely speed of his hand contradicting the wild thrusts of his hips, and Joker wasn’t sure how long he could last. “Bruce, I can’t… I can’t hold it back. Oh, god!” He yelled as his Knight hit his sweet spot, whines escaping his throat as he hit the same spot three times more. His warm cum spilled over Bruce’s hand as he moaned loudly, lean body shaking with his euphoria.

Bruce’s own climax rushed over him as he felt his clown’s muscles tighten around him. He bit into the soft flesh of Joker’s neck, releasing him only a moment later when they came down from the blissful high. The billionaire rolled off to Joker’s side, pulling the slightly smaller man into his arms; they were laying the wrong way on the bed, chest to back, smiling contentedly.

“My ass is gonna be very sore,” Joker murmured sleepily. “And I have to go get my things from the joke shop.”

Bruce chuckled, happiness rolling over him as he fully comprehended that his clown was in his arms and entirely nude. “I could go get everything if you’re too tired,” he offered.

Joker rolled over so he could press his face into his Knight’s chest. “Thanks, but it’ll have to be me. The, uh, boys would be suspicious if they saw the Batman grabbing my things. They’d probably shoot if they saw Bruce Wayne. No, I’ll go later.”

“Didn’t you tell them to go home after dropping the stuff off? I wouldn’t even have to deal with them if I went.”

Joker gave him a meaningful look. “The day those idiots actually listen to me will be the day the murder rate of this city hits zero,” he joked, smirking at his Knight.

The two fell asleep holding each other in their arms.

~~~~~~~~~

Joker stepped into the joke shop just after eleven that night, his coat’s collar pulled up to hide his bare scars. He found the bag of medicines where he’d told his lackeys to leave it and grabbed it as he walked to the room he’d been sleeping in. He then proceeded to find one of his duffel bags and packed the few belongings he had inside of it; nine days’ supply of outfits, five of which were what most would call his “costume,” a large assortment of socks, two pairs of shoes and makeup (greasepaint and regular). He hid the medicine under the barely folded clothing and zipped the bag, placing it on the small bed and grabbing a smaller duffel bag.

He tossed his large assortment of knives into the second bag along with the few guns he had before turning to debate whether he should bring the grenades and larger weaponry with him. ‘Maybe he could put it in the batcave,’ he thought, subconsciously pulling out the cell phone with Bruce’s number on it. He debated the idea, holding the phone in his hand, before finally hitting call.

“Hey, do you need me to pick you up?” Joker smiled as soon as he heard Bruce’s smooth voice over the phone.

“Well, uh, yeah, but I also have to ask about a couple of things,” he replied, pacing slightly as he spoke.

“Sure, what are they?”

Joker cleared his throat before saying, “A few grenades and a, uh, bazooka. Oh, and I just found a flame thrower. Huh, didn’t know I had that.”

He heard Bruce’s chuckle over the phone and was about to ask what was funny before his knight replied. “We can put them in the cave, just be careful with the grenades. Why the hell would you have a flame thrower?”

“I dunno, sometimes I take stuff I don’t need. And I’m always careful with grenades!”

Bruce chuckled again. “Alright, well I’ll be waiting in the alley next to the bakery. Just give me about five minutes.”

“Alrighty, see you then, Brucie.”

“See you then, Jay.”

Joker disconnected the call with a grin before putting the grenades in the second bag and zipping it up. He grabbed the bazooka, its ammo and the flame thrower and placed them carefully in a separate duffel bag, checking to make sure the safety was on both weapons before doing so. ‘This is not going to be fun to carry,’ he thought with slight aggravation as he stared down at the three bags he’d have to carry the block to the bakery.

He pulled the bag with his clothes and makeup over his head so it rested against his hip, then crossed the one with his knives over so it was on his other hip. He shifted both so they wouldn’t hinder his ability to walk before grabbing the last and heaviest bag and walking to the front door. He looked back to quickly check that he’d grabbed everything important and walked out the door with some difficulty. Sighing, he began his walk to the deserted dessert shop. ‘Heh, punny,’ he jested to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce sat behind the wheel of his silver Lamborghini as he waiting for his clown to arrive. He’d only just pulled into the alley next to the bakery, but he didn’t feel comfortable on this side of the city at least not without the suit. The Narrows were definitely not the place for a billionaire, nor a billionaire who’d spent most of his money trying to “fix” the lives of the Narrow inhabitants. Apparently the deed he’d thought was generous and kind was taken as extreme insult by most.

So, he had good reason to be concerned about being here for long; it wasn’t everyday a sliver Lamborghini drove through the littered streets and someone was bound to notice eventually. He knew Joker was the prince of the Narrows, but Bruce had apparently gotten into the habit of worrying about his clown.

‘Speak of the devil,’ he thought humorously just as sad clown came into view. Bruce immediately raised an eyebrow as he opened the passenger door from the inside. “Whatever happened to liking the simple things,” he joked nodding his head at the three filled bags.

Joker delicately placed one of them behind the passenger seat before sitting down and removing the remaining two bags from around his neck. “Compared to your closet, this is nothing,” he retorted, dropping the smaller of the two to his feet and looking at the open door to the car for a moment. He looked back at Bruce with a vaguely bashful expression. “I, uh, don’t know how to close the door, Brucie.”

Bruce smirked before reaching over him and tugging the door down. He moved back slightly, stopping to place a small kiss on Joker’s lips before sitting back in his seat. He clicked on his seat belt then looked at Joker, who was smiling and fiddling with a zipper on the bag in his lap. When the car didn’t move, Joker looked questioningly at Bruce.

“Buckle your seat belt,” the billionaire instructed only to receive an exasperated look. “It’s for your safety, just put it on.”

“Fine,” Joker grumbled, rolling his eyes as he clicked the strap over himself. Bruce held back a smirk as he pulled out of the alley and drove quickly down the road. “You seem nervous about something. Everything okay?” Joker’s concerned question broke the momentary silence of the car.

“People on this side of the city don’t exactly welcome my kind to their streets,” Bruce admitted, glancing at his lover from the corner of his eyes.

Joker frowned but nodded, knowing he’d been one of those people when he’d first arrived in Gotham. “People here don’t generally want to change who they, uh, are. If they did, they’d work hard to better themselves and get to your level. Crime is something you only get away from if you really want to, if you have something or someone that can convince you to change.”

Bruce nodded, feeling slightly touched that Joker would share that much with him, though he had come to learn not to read too much into the things he said; with as many attempts as he and the police force had made to get information about the clown, they still had nothing.

“What if they had an opportunity to have a steady income, nice home and safe life? Isn’t that better than risking their lives to steal money and moving from building to building?”

“It’s not really about the money, not entirely. For many, it’s about the thrill, the excitement. The-the fireworks! Why do you think I blow things up all the time? Honestly, it’s not like I have a hostage for every single explosion. No, I do it because it’s exciting, it gets the adrenaline pumping and the heart racing,” Joker explained, arms waving excitedly.

Bruce could kind of understand what he meant, though most of his excitement came when he donned the suit to stop such crimes, but he couldn’t help but (finally) admit to getting a certain thrill when he had to avoid getting blown to pieces by Joker’s “fireworks.”

“That actually makes sense,” he said, sitting back in his seat as they finally passed into a more rural part of the city. He turned onto a street he knew lead to the Batcave before turning his head to see Joker was watching him with an unreadable yet familiar expression. “Listen, Jay, I’m not going to tell you to stop doing things that make you happy, but I have to ask that they not end with corpses. If we’re going to be together I don’t want there to be any bodies, okay?”

Joker nodded. “I’d do anything to not lose you. But, uh, perhaps there should be some exceptions? Such as if someone is threatening your life or if it was an accident?”

Bruce gave him a small smile. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I will take that as a yes,” Joker beamed, restlessly shifting in his seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean I can’t try out the flame thrower down there?! Your cave is like one giant, flame resistant playground! It’s not like everything’s made of wood and would burn to the ground!”

Joker’s whiny complaining echoed through the large ballroom of the penthouse as he and Bruce stepped out of the elevator. They’d arrived back there after finding places for the grenades, flamethrower and bazooka, but had been discussing his means of having acquired the weapons during the drive. Upon entering the building they had transitioned into his knowledge of how to use said weapons and just as they reached the penthouse Joker’s suggestion of them trying out the flamethrower in the cave had been shot down.

“Because when you play with fire you get burned, and I don’t want to risk anything,” Bruce insisted as he headed immediately to his room. Joker followed with his remaining two bags, continuing to try to persuade him to change his mind even as Bruce changed into his pajamas and got ready for bed.

“What are you doing?” Joker asked, having finally given up on his previous cause.

“Uhm… getting ready to go to bed? What else would I be doing?” Bruce asked, wiping away the excess toothpaste from his mouth and turning to face his clown.

“I dunno, I thought you were going to, uh, patrol the streets,” Joker shrugged, dropping the bags to the floor in front of a chair in one corner of the room as he draped his coat over the arm.

Bruce shrugged, walking out of the bathroom and leaning against the door frame wearing the same dark blue basketball shorts as he had earlier. “Well, you’re here so I’m pretty sure the city will be safe for tonight. That is, if you’re actually planning on staying,” he said quickly, not wanting to make the wrong assumption.

Joker smiled smally before stepping up to his knight and kissing him on the cheek, leaving a red smear in his wake. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured assuredly.

“Good,” Bruce grinned. “But if you want to sleep in my bed you’ll have to take off the makeup.”

Joker smirked but went into the bathroom to do exactly that. He somehow found himself being more and more comfortable around Bruce without the makeup; he supposed it had only been strange at first because he’d worn it for so long that it was practically stained on his skin. ‘Maybe it’s the same for Brucie and the cowl,’ he thought as he stared at the less tired looking man who stared back at him in the mirror. He noticed his green eyes were shining with a new life and the dark bags under his eyes were almost gone.

‘Well, I guess domestication has done wonders for me,’ he thought happily. ‘Or maybe it’s just love.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(Time skip! 1 month later)

Bruce was hosting yet another party, however the guests had no idea who the special guest of the evening would be. They were, however, aware of the charity they were donating to; all funds raised would go to innovations on Arkham Asylum and it’s staff.

The dark-haired man in question was currently standing in front of his bed in his room, fixing the sleeves of his shirt and jacket as he listened to the muffled sounds of the party. Once he was pleased with his clothing, he glanced at the half-closed bathroom door and sighed impatiently. “C’mon, hurry up. Everyone’s waiting for me to show and announce the guest of honor.”

He heard shuffling before the door opened fully to reveal his beloved wearing a halter-style crimson ball gown that showed off his muscular yet feminine shoulders and arms with black heels; his eyes were lined with black eyeliner with smokey eyeshadow and his lips were covered in a bright red lipstick, though his scars were left uncovered. His light brown hair, still tinted a light green toward the tips, was cleaned and brushed. Bruce smiled at his man who smiled back smalley.

“Bruce… are you sure they’ll accept me? I mean, I’m kinda the thing that haunts their nightmares,” the shorter man said nervously, smile fading.

“You’ve shown them that you’ve changed, they know that you’ve decided to stop terrorising them. If anyone says anything… well, then they can go fuck themselves,” Bruce assured him, pulling the skinny man into his arms. “Besides, I’m sure they have enough faith in me to know I wouldn’t put everyone in danger.”

The smaller man snorted but nodded as they stepped apart. “Fine, let’s go,” he murmured anxiously.

Bruce nodded and led them to the end of the hallway, stepping out in front of the other so they’d only see himself, gaining the crowd’s attention by clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for coming and donating to Arkham’s innovations. Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering who my guest of honor is, but before I announce him I have to ask you all keep as open a mind as possible. He is a great man, one who I’m sure is going to be as much a help to this city as I try to be. You all know the old him, but you have yet to get to know the new him. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s guest of honor, Jack Napier.”

He turned to the side and held out an arm for Jack to take. The crowd was a mix of scared and angry murmurs as they saw the man they once knew as “the Joker” step out on the arm of their favorite son. Jack’s hand squeezed Bruce’s arm as he nervously smiled at the crowd.

“What the hell is he doing here?! He doesn’t belong here, he belongs in Arkham!” A man in the crowd shouted over the rumbling murmurs, followed by similar comments and agreements from half of the crowd.

Jack flinched and his mouth opened slightly as though he wanted to say something, but before he could speak he released Bruce’s arm and ran back into the bedroom. Bruce glared at his guests, who had decided to split up into two groups based on their opinions of Jack, and followed after his lover. He closed the door softly and looked around until his eyes found the curled up form of his clown in the far right corner of the room; stepping toward him, he heard sniffling and saw Jack’s shoulders shaking with half-suppressed sobs.

“Jack… Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Bruce murmured as he sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shaking back.

“I-I told y-you-oo. They’ll never accept m-me,” Jack said between sobs. He leaned into Bruce’s side, though his head was still buried in his arms atop his bent knees.

Bruce pulled him closer, using his other arm to enclose him in his arms. “Even if they don’t now, they will one day. Otherwise, we can go anywhere and be anyone we want. I don’t care where we are or who we’re with so long as I have you, Jack.”

Raising his head from his arms, Jack searched his eyes and smiled when he apparently found was he’d been looking for. “Thanks, Bruce,” he sniffed, giving him a peck on the lips.

~~~~~~~~~

Barbara Gordon had been one of the quiet guests at the party, standing next to her Commissioner husband as they all saw the guest of honor announced. Although she knew the Joker had been the town’s most hated demon, she also knew that Bruce Wayne and the various doctors and judges would lie about him turning good. So, while almost half of the guests were shouting and berating him, Barbara watched his reaction.

She had seen how nervous and worried he’d been when he stepped out from behind Bruce; even from the slight distance she and Jim had been standing, she could see he was clinging to Bruce’s arm like his life depended on it. As soon as the man (she couldn’t tell who it had been) had began the rude shouts, she saw fear and sadness make their appearance on his features. A motherly pang of sympathy went through her heart when he rush back down the hallway; finally turning away, she noticed that Jim seemed unsure of what to do or say.

“Jim, he’s a changed man. He doesn’t deserve this,” she pleaded determinedly to her husband over the sounds of angered complaints from the one half of the guests.

Commissioner Gordon paused for a moment as he thought over the situation. Just like his wife, he’d seen the fear evident in the young ex-terrorist’s eyes, but after the amount of time he’d seen the clown wreaking havoc on his city he was a bit reluctant to feel any sort of forgiveness for him. It was in that moment, and with his wife’s pleas, that he found he was finally able to give Jack a second chance.

“Alright, everyone! Be quiet and listen up! Jack Napier is not the same man as the Joker, though they share the same body. He is a good citizen who made mistakes and is making up for them and I’m not going to allow you to harass him anymore. So, if you have a problem with Jack, feel free to leave and stay away from him,” Gordon shouted to the room. The guests who had been verbally abusing Jack mostly sheepishly went into hushed groups to consider the Commissioner’s words and have their normal polite discussions.

Barbara turned back to her husband and smiled thankfully at him. “Oh, Jim, I knew you could find it in your heart to give the boy a chance. Now, let’s go talk to him. I think he needs to make some friends to get through these barbarian’s assaults.”

She led the way down the hall to the closed bedroom door, gripping Gordon’s sleeve tightly with one hand, and tapped gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce and Jack were still huddled on the ground, though Jack’s tears had slowed yet not entirely stopped, when there was a light knock on the door. Jack tensed, obviously expecting the rowdy guests to riot against him physically, but Bruce rubbed his back gently.

“Who is it?”

“Bruce, sweetheart, it’s Barbara and Jim. We just want to make sure Jack’s okay,” the muffled voice of Barbara Gordon replied. Upon the acceptance of their request the married couple walked through the door. Barbara immediately walked slowly over to Jack’s unoccupied side and knelt down beside him; Jim closed the door and remained standing awkwardly near it, though he seemed more uncomfortable with the prospect of having to somehow be comforting rather than who he would be comforting.

“Hello, Jack,” Barbara began softly, gently placing a hand on the distraught man’s bare shoulder. “I’m Barbara Gordon, we haven’t officially met. It’s lovely to finally meet the man that’s stolen Bruce’s heart.”

Jack sniffed and smiled smally at the middle-aged woman. “T-thanks, Mrs. Gordon. It’s good to meet you too,” he said, though his voice was quiet enough to be a whisper.

She gave his shoulder a slight squeeze and smiled. “You can call me ‘Barbara’. Now, Jack, I saw how… nervous you were when you first stepped out and I know that the group of snot-nosed, barbaric idiots out there didn’t help. At all. I just want you to know that if they do it again, Jim here will send them away and I’ll give them a mothering that’ll make them want to stand in the corner and write an essay of apology to you.”

Jack laughed and slowly stood when both Barbara and Bruce offered their hands to him. The latter wrapped his arm protectively around his lover’s waist and the group left the bedroom, the Gordons in the lead. The remaining guests, who had returned to the party activities, looked at the group as they re-emerged and most smiled reassuringly at Jack. Bruce leaned down to whisper in his lover’s ear, “I’m expected to mingle, but if you want me to stay with you I will.”

Jack shook his head and gave his Bat a slight nudge. “No, no. Go mingle, I’ll be fine here,” he whispered back. Bruce nodded and walked off with the Gordons, leaving Jack to stay in the corner he’d deemed his safe spot. He was far enough from the other people to be left alone but not too far away so that he’d be too out of place; he already had the scars to make him more noticeable.

After an hour had passed, Jack had created a sort of pattern to how he acted. He would remain by the refreshments table when no one else was near it, but then would quickly move back to the corner when someone came closer. He was currently back in the corner with a flute filled with chardonnay when he felt a presence behind him. A tanned hand landed on his shoulder lightly causing him to jump; he turned his head and saw that the man in question was the detective who seemed to always have been the one to watch him when he got himself caught.

“Detective Stephens? A-am I in your way or something?” Jack asked nervously, knowing everything the man would (and should) have against him.

“Not in the slightest, Jack,” Stephens replied with a gruff yet warm voice. “I just want to say that you have nothing to fear from anyone here. We all have accepted that you’re a changed man and that you truly are sorry for everything you’ve done in the past. Now, go mingle with your playboy before he dies of boredom.”

Jack smiled and nodded before shaking the detective’s hand and went out further into the room to find his Bruce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The End!

Thank you for reading! I can’t express how happy I am to have people enjoy my writing.

If you have any requests, I am still 100% willing to write BatJokes, just send me a message and I’ll get back to ya as soon as possible.

Love y’all!

Please don’t copyright or I’ll send Mistah J after ya

[pumpkunbread]

Untitled Mermaid AU Fic?

I was inspired by @arcanedrabbles Siren AU and wrote a tail, tale of my own. I look forward to reading more of The Captain’s Tale! Its very cute!! This does not have sirens and pirates, but mermaids are close too right? (contains a small apprentice insert with Julian but hardly any details of her are mentioned) Not finished!

Part 1.2 and Part 2

Ava walks along the edge of the Wounded Coast, a dangerous cliffside with angry, relentless waves beating against the tired rocks. She wandered too far from the beach again today. The crowds never fail to displease her and push her away, only allowing quiet, stolen moments at the beach in the early hours of the mornings she is able to visit on. Vesuvian waters are bitter cold in the winter, but with scorching summers the place becomes a famous hotspot for the locals that sadly leave little room for privacy. So she drifted away from the crowd and ended up here.

The Coast, however, with its unsafe terrain, leave only the stupid or the brave to test its safety. The tall cliffs jut every which way at varying heights, only adding to its danger and beauty of the land. Below holds foaming waves sure to pull you under if you fall with little chance at escape, as if the sea itself wishes not to release you from its embrace. A narrow path winds down closer to the water that which Ava stands on, blinking furiously out of a daydream to find herself here.

She looks up and see the edges of the cliffs above her, rather than below her feet one would normally peer from. The ledge she occupies barely allows a person to walk along, some sections requiring hugging the wall to continue as it winds lower and lower to meet the deep blue water.

Worried, and shaking her head vigorously as if that will tell her brain to pay more attention, she pivots around to ascend back up and set course for home. The sun greets high in the sky and casts no shadows as she walks. Mindlessly, she starts to sing a wordless tune.

And swears she hears a harmonizing voice singing back at her.

Confused, she quickly stops. The voice in question quits a few beats after, as if startled by the sudden pause.

She resumes where she left off, and sure enough the voice returns to sing with her. The sound is beautiful, a smooth voice that makes her only want to listen to its sweet song, but knows if she stops it will too.

The sound comes from further down the path. Who could be all the way down there, she thinks. Those who travel here have near nothing to find and return home with, or never return at all. This place was once rumored of being haunted, a gossip in town spreading one day as a young couple runs back to town, terrified. Its since been ignored, but remains a commonly avoided spot with good reason, especially fearful in the hours of the night.

They do not appear in distress, whoever it is, but in the back of her mind knows this is a horribly idiotic idea.

She’s not been known to be the wisest person.

Once again she turns back around to continue on the path she started, still singing her tune and carefully listens to find the source of the voice. It seems to drown out the waves themselves, its usual noise only a distant echo. Warm, rich, unintentionally inviting, it beckons her onward.

At this level, holes have been dug into the cliffs themselves as if carved. The water changes elevation during certain times of the year with summers low enough that these peek out without being covered it seems.

Without warning, a merciless wave crashes near the side she stands on, but nonetheless startles her enough that her foot slips off the narrow ledge, pulling her down into the waiting waters below.

She's able to breach the surface after landing in the salty water just before it drags her back under, stealing one last gulp of air before it does. This is it, she thinks to herself, I was stupid enough to wander off this much, down this far. Oh, how will I tell the shopkeep?

She struggles for as long as she can muster. The ocean is relentless in its eagerness, a new visitor to stay with her. Its strength too much to handle alone, dragging her further and further to her new awaited bed to sleep in. Closing her eyes, the remainder of her stolen breathe pushes out of her lungs in a burning gasp, bubbles helplessly floating up as she sinks. Her consciousness starts to slip away to give her some sort of ending peace. She thinks before being swallowed in darkness that a hand closes around her upper arm...

~

She wakes to find her back laying flat against stone, her body soaking wet and only slightly shivering as she opens her eyes. Her lungs burn, and her stomach decides to cough up sea water as she quickly turns over while her body curls in on itself in pain. She takes deep, agonizing breaths and looks around, a dark cave welcoming her back to consciousness. She can see the blue sky through the mouth of the cave, the sun slightly lower than before but the waves angry in her surprising escape.

...How did she escape?

Ava looks around again, only to find nothing around but a pair of glowing eyes staring straight at her through the barely-lit cave. A small scream rips from her throat before immediately causing her to cough again, salt water still lingering and wrecking her voice. She then backpedals on her hands and feet toward the exit, towards the freedom and escape from this place after gaining a second chance.

In her panic the alluring voice from before begins to softly hum at her, and she freezes. Its melody, now heard by itself, sounds melancholic. Sad. The pitch rings a deep, rich tone that brings her to the verge of tears in its unspoken story.

She slightly relaxes and finds the eyes blinking at her, seemingly approaching her as the voice grows ever louder. Her eyes threaten to spill tears as fear, mixed with curious wonder, blurs her vision from the approaching entity. Ava closes her eyes to let them fall down her face, once again accepting the incoming meeting with death. She waits but it never comes. In fact, the voice hushed into silence and she dares open her eyes.

Blinking the rest of her tears away, and re-adjusting to the dim light of the cave, Ava finds herself staring face to face with a man.

A mess of wet auburn curls sits on this head, wild and seemingly impossible to tame. A portion hides his right eye as the other peers at her from merely a foot from her face. His grey eye is transfixed on her, seeming to peer directly into her soul itself. Sharp cheekbones are etched into his face while his lips are slightly agape in awe, sporting pearly white fangs as his teeth.

Fangs?

She blinks and finds them still there, in addition to gills slit into his neck and the ear not covered by his bright hair not resembling any human ear. She also notices him shirtless, body submerged in a pool within the cave that she lays next to.

His lips open wider to speak, in a voice that sounds like heaven itself, “Are you alright?”

She nods her head in acknowledgement, not feeling any worse except her upset stomach, burning lungs, and swirling mind. He smiles at her, exhaling a breathe she didn't realize he was holding.

“That was quite a fall you had. You almost didn’t make it out” he pauses, waiting for some other response. A sound. Ava does not speak, too stunned to form words as she stares.

He splashes the water in front of him onto her face, doing no harm as the clothes are still dripping wet. She blinks again and wipes her face with her hand to look back him.

“My name’s Julian, but some call me Ilya. May I ask for yours?” his dark eyebrow lifts in question.

“Ava.” she speaks quietly after an agonizing moment.

“Ava,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue, and holds out a pale hand. Her name on his tongue melts her from its sound. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Cautiously she raises her hand to shake it, but immediately lets go at the touch of scales. He flinches and lowers his hand down to the edge of the still pool.

“Right, thats just a people thing I suppose. Worth a shot all things considering. There are, well, there are very strange mannerisms sometimes up there, I swear.”

“Who are you?” she tentatively asks, still unsure what to make of this entire situation.

A pause hangs heavy in the air before the man, Julian, raises his hand again to rest under his chin, cheek jutting up into an adorable pout.

“It might be easier to show you.”

“Show me? Show me what?”

He turns sideways and next to him emerges from the pool a brightly colored tail. Its hues gleam in oranges and reds, blending together to make a vibrant sunset color. It slowly fades darker as it travels toward his navel, a beautiful gradient of scarlet scales that are impossible to cast eyes away from. Ava cannot help but wonder its beauty reflected in sunlight. Its as if his entire being is begging for attention.

“Beautiful.” she finds herself saying, before bringing a hand to her mouth and holding it there, surprised to say aloud.

Julian blushes to match his scales, traveling from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck that he cannot hide.

“T-thank you.” he stammers, but submerges his tail back underneath the water.

“Are you a... siren?”

“I do not wish to eat you. I’ll spare your life this once.” he dodges the question grinning, sharp, white teeth clearly visible in the dark as he crosses his arms atop his chest.

Despite everything, she can clearly see through this lie and it shows plainly on her face. He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh.

Continue??