#I just want to peg the grave robber

[gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun]

Me: *wearing my Repo! jacket*

The they/them making my coffee: does your jacket say Zydrate Anatomy?? it’s really cool.

Me: yes!!! thank you gay barista!!

Them: you’re welcome, gay person!!

Me, five minutes later: *getting gas*

A person with teal hair: I love your jacket!!!

Me: …are you queer?

Them: yup!

Me: fantastic. I have proven that this jacket is a gay magnet. everything is going according to plan >:)

[ddejavvu]

MORE BEREAL WITH HOTCH OMG!!

but he takes one where he rails me from behind 🤭

part 1

this post is 18+, minors dni.

The consequences of your relationship with Hotch being outed are much less severe than you'd worried about. No one has snitched to Strauss, no one accuses you of sleeping with the boss for leverage in the government. But they do adopt a penchant for teasing you, and it grates on Aaron's nerves more than yours.

"Y/L/N, I didn't peg you as a grave robber," Derek grins, his pen caught between his teeth as he leans back in his chair, "Tell me, can the old man even get it up anymore?"

"That's enough." Hotch snaps, "You're working right now, Agent."

"I'm working, I'm working," Derek assures his boss, putting pen to paper but writing nothing, "Just making sure Y/N's not getting the short end of the stick in this little thing you've got going on."

"It's not short." You promise with a sly grin, and you see Aaron's jaw clench as he tries biting his tongue to keep from smirking. He's stirring his coffee on the counter of the kitchenette and Derek, properly cowed by your retaliation to his teasing, ducks his head and begins scribbling away with a grimace on his face.

You've developed a habit of meeting Aaron in his office for lunch, and today is no different. You take the brunt of your coworker's teasing jeers as you bounce happily up the stairs to Hotch's office, shutting the door on them before Emily can finish whatever jibe she's got locked and loaded.

"Hi," You greet, like you haven't seem him all day, like he wasn't expecting your presence, "You ready to eat?"

"I am," Aaron beams at you, shuffling paperwork out of the way to clear a space for your lunch bag, "Did you happen to grab any crackers from the pantry before we left?"

"I did," You brag, showcasing a full sleeve of them to pair with the dip you'd made, "We need more of them, though, this is the last portion."

"I'll add it to the grocery list," Aaron mumbles, digging in his pocket for his phone, and you feel something warm and soft in your chest at the domesticity of it all. Your grocery list, your joint grocery list with the man you love. Food bought together, with shared funds and shared smiles across the shopping cart as an unnecessary bag of cookies is added to the cart.

"JJ thinks you're nicer now that we're together," You muse, munching on a cracker with dip smeared over its surface, "She says you smile more."

"I do," Aaron's eyes scrunch slightly with the force of the expression in question, "I bet Morgan doesn't feel that way."

"He does that to himself," You scoff, reaching over the desk to squeeze Aaron's arm, "He loves you, Aaron, he just likes teasing you. That's his way of showing it."

"I know," He assures you, "I just wish he wouldn't do it in the office."

"I bet he wishes we wouldn't do it in the office," You gnaw at your lower lip, remembering Derek's scandalized grimace when he'd forgone a knock at Hotch's office door last week. It had been a kiss, barely more besides wandering hands, but since then he's doubled his efforts to tease you two.

"I locked the door this time." Aaron chuckles, but falls silent with the weight of his words, "That is- if you want this time to be like last time. Or we could just eat, or-"

"Shut up," Your finger flies to Aaron's mouth, his eyes crossing to follow it as you press it to his lips, "I want you."

His chest shakes with a hearty chuckle at your brazen words, but he's more than happy to scoot his chair back from his desk to give you space to sit over his thighs. Your kiss tastes like the dip you've both been sharing, but the messier it gets, the more you lick and drool into his mouth the less potent it is. It doesn't take you long to feel a needy ache in your core that Aaron's bulge would satisfy, so you reach down to palm him through his pants.

"Jesus-" He hisses, eyes fluttering open to blink dazedly at you, "You- do you want- here? Now?"

"Yes here and now!" You nod vigorously, his face held in your hands, "I need you, Aaron, please."

His hands fly to his belt buckle with no further hesitation. You're eager to help, palming his cock through his boxers until it's sufficiently hard and tugging eagerly at the elastic waistband to free it. It's a mouthwatering sight, but you don't have time for that now, all you can manage on your lunch break is a quickie.

With mental plans made to suck him dry as soon as you cross the threshold of your apartment, you lift your hips, relishing in the way that his fingers prod at your barely-slick entrance to coax more lubrication out of your cunt.

"Just go," You beg, "There's no time, I- I'm wet enough."

"Okay." He hums, kissing your mouth where you pant against his own, "You sure you're ready?"

"Mhm! Yeah, I'm ready." You nod, letting him line up his cock with your entrance, "Aaron, please- hnngh!"

You bury your face in his shoulder at the slight sting of his dick, the pain eased when he pushes all the way in and the slickness that's accumulated deep inside gets distributed around your cunt. It's smoother then, and he's able to get a steady rhythm going with both his hips and yours as you ride him. He thrusts as best as he can and you pick up the slack by bouncing your hips, until you're biting into the soft silk of his tie to muffle your moans.

Your phone chimes. It's BeReal.

You've had a little more freedom since outing your relationship, your photos now of you and Aaron together rather than the grass beneath your feet and a carefully taken selfie that doesn't include your brooding boss.

But it's Aaron this time that lunges for the cell, your weight supported when his arm wraps around your thighs, and your legs encircle his waist. It's a startling change of position, and you're worried about falling, but he's surprisingly strong.

"Aaron!" You gush, your back aching when it's pressed against the corner of his desk, "Ow, don't-!"

"Sorry," He pants, hands falling to your hips and hips jerking backwards. His cock is no longer buried in your cunt and you mourn it's loss, but he manhandles your waist to turn you around, and you fall forwards against his desk. You catch yourself on your palms against the smooth wood, yelping as he shows no hesitation in lining his hips up with your ass and plunging his cock back into your pussy. He's thrusting from behind now, one hand latched onto your phone as he clicks the notification.

Your face barely suffices to unlock the phone, your expression warped in pleasure as Aaron takes you from behind. But the phone unlocks after only a moment's struggle, and Aaron eagerly loads the front camera.

"No porn," You warn him, "I- I don't need Reid seeing my- tits!"

"I'm not showing anyone your tits," He grunts, aiming the camera at your face just as your brow scrunches, and your mouth falls into a rosy ring, "I'm showing them your face."

"Aaron-!" You mewl, hearing the shutter of the camera as he takes his own picture, the saliva-ridden bite you'd left on his tie. There's a ring of darker fabric where your drool had seeped into the silk, and he's proud to showcase it alongside your pleasure-ridden expression.

"There," He tosses the phone back on the desk, perhaps harder than he should. He's simply overwhelmed with passion, the need to prove himself worthy of you. Derek's nagging comments eat at his brain, 'the short end of the stick.'

It doesn't look like you're suffering. His chest surges with pride as he stares at the photo he'd snapped of you, face contorted and riddled with bliss.

'Short end of the stick', he sneers, digging the expression into your back and nipping at the skin of your neck, you're nothing short of mindblown.

[chenqingssuibian]

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian for the ask meme

two-for-one special, huh?

from this post!

How I feel about this character:

Jiang Yanli: ULTIMATE EXAMPLE OF CHARACTERS WHO DESERVED BETTER. Jiang Yanli is everything. She is the it girl. She is my favorite female character except for MAYBE A-Qing. She makes me wish I had a big sister, y’all. God, I wish she had gotten to meet her son - like, actually meet him, and get to know him. (When she died, he was... what, a year old at most? Not MUCH personality there, gotta say.) I wish she had gotten to grow old, man. Jiang Yanli was born to be a grandma, and the fact that she never got to be. Is upsetting. My girl is artistic, she is smart, she is brave (standing up to Jin Zixun!!!! A man who is 100% stronger than her!!!!! From a much stronger and wealthier sect!!!!) and GOD is she kind. Yanli, my beloved <3

Wei Wuxian: He is the main character and he is the main character for a REASON. This man? A mess, through and through. He is also a genius and he will not let you forget it, nor will he let you forget how SEXY he is. Yes Wei Wuxian we know your ass is fat you don’t need to remind me. I love this freaky lil necromancer. So sexy of him to invent that. He doesn’t have a SINGLE uncomplicated relationship, no, that’s too easy. He doesn’t even get to have a simple relationship with A-Yuan, because of course he doesn’t. Wei Wuxian is a flawed man who has committed atrocities and kindnesses in turn. He is simultaneously a grave robber who desecrates corpses on the regular, and ALSO the kind of dude who will attempt (and succeed) to resurrect a guy who he barely knows, even though it seems hopeless, because he is duty-bound. He takes his debt to the Wen siblings so, so seriously, he takes so much so seriously and that is why he doesn’t put effort into, for example, naming his weapons, or other bullshit. He has priorities, man. I love him. 

Romantic Ships:

Jiang Yanli: I’m a slut for xuanli, my token straight ship. Half of it is because I just really love Jin Ling, and if they weren’t a thing... he wouldn’t be either. But ALSO: Jin Zixuan resents her not because she’s her, but because he is being forced to marry her. Once that pressure is pulled off (though honestly? Not completely, because let’s be real - Madame Jin was probably pushing for that marriage all through Sunshot) and he gets the chance to... actually get to know her? He falls in love, y’all. I like to think Jiang Yanli, softhearted as she is, made him work to woo her as much as she was able. Gotta put effort into Jiang Yanli, Zixuan, it’s what she DESERVES! Other than them, yanqing is very good! I read some fics where she married Lan Xichen, which was lovely, and then there’s that series where she gets married to Jin Guangyao instead of Zixuan (though I can’t remember the name of it, rip.) There are very many options, for Yanli, and all of them good. give her a harem

Wei Wuxian: Wangxian goes without saying - they’re the core of the series, after all, if I didn’t like them at least a little... there wouldn’t be a point in me running a blog for this series, would there? Ningxian, unrequited or otherwise, is also very sexy. Wangningxian, too, and, as mentioned in the ask about Lan Xichen, I am into xixian! Xiaoxian also slaps - I’ve written a blurb for them, and plan on expanding it into something larger... at some point. Also, there are some really great (though DEFINITELY not for the light-hearted) xuexian fics out there, if you’re interested.

Non-Romantic Ships/BroTPS:

Jiang Yanli: Yanli and her brothers, Yanli and Wen Ning, Yanli and Everyone, Basically. Everyone should be friends with Jiang Yanli. She is very friend-shaped, and honestly? If everyone was her friend, a lot of shit would’ve gone down better. 

Wei Wuxian: I think the dynamic between Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli is just. So fuckin’ delicious. There are layers of love and devotion and propriety and conflicts of all of those things and GOD. I love them. I also thing Wei Wuxian should’ve been a menace as a child on the streets with Xue Yang. I would’ve liked to see it. Nie Huaisang is also a Very Good Bro, who I love him with immensely (and also think he should kiss a little bit)

Unpopular Opinion:

Jiang Yanli: Not to NSFW, but a lot of y’all seem to think she’s the kinkiest bitch on the block, and honestly? I don’t see it. I think her favorite position is missionary. I am so sorry to the pegging stans I just don’t think she has the core strength to make that good.

Wei Wuxian: HE. IS. MORALLY. GRAY. AT. BEST. Particularly during Sunshot and the immediate aftermath, but honestly, Wei Wuxian is not the liberator of the people, or something. He is a very talented man who, when he feels it is the right thing to do, will do anything - and what is right can be subjective and situational. He’s his own villain in a lot of ways, and the villain of many other people’s stories. Honestly, I can’t blame people for being afraid of him, or trying to put limits on what he can do - unchecked power is always bad. Always. Even when someone I like has it. 

What I wish would happen/had happened in canon:

Jiang Yanli: Uh. I wish she had fucking LIVED? I get WHY she had to die, so Jin Ling could... be Jin Ling, and Jiang Cheng would finally have something he really, truly couldn’t forgive Wei Wuxian for. I get that her death is the final nail in his coffin, or whatever. But seeing her simply get INJURED for him would’ve been enough, I think? I don’t think she needed to die, is what I’m saying, and I think MDZS could’ve been even more interesting, narratively speaking, if she hadn’t. Then again, I’m a Xuan Lu simp, so it is possible I simply wish we had had More Of Her.

Wei Wuxian: Therapy, as always. Otherwise, he’s pretty much got it made? Man came back from the dead, got some old friends back, solved a mystery, found out his sort-of son he raised in a graveyard for a while wasn’t dead at all, and then got married to the love of his life. He’s good on that front. Reconciliation with Jiang Cheng is really all I want, past that.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Harry Potter Battle Wounds Pt 1 - L. Hemmings

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Female reader

Being the little sister of the infamous “C-Dizzle” Calum Hood meant that it was rare you could Skype him throughout his time at Uni.

You were one year younger than him, and while you were in year 12 he went off to University with his friends, choosing to move closer to campus.

It’s safe to say, you missed him like crazy. You and Cal had been thick as thieves for so many years, and are probably the single reason your mother’s hair started to turn grey. Or, at least, that’s what Joy would tell you both.

You and Cal had organized to skype on a Sunday afternoon, giving him enough time during the week to organize work for his classes, and Sunday morning to recover from a hang over he generally had.

From his Facebook tags alone, you had seem far too much of your older brother in stupid situations due to mass amounts of alcohol. He really was enjoying the University life and you were happy for him, you just wished he would dedicate some of his time to coming home to see his family. Hence why you took it upon himself to schedule specific blocks of time where he would Skype you. You even went as far to ensure Ashton, the only one of Calum’s friends you have met, knew of the time and made sure Calum dedicated that time to his family.

It worked perfectly and you never thought you’d admit it, but the Skype calls were even more fun when Cal’s friends got involved.

You heard he lived with three of his friends, one of those being Ashton and another his friend Michael who you met on a Skype call one night, but you had never seen the infamous Luke who was either asleep, at class or out who knows where.

The boys all have different accounts on where Luke was when you asked one time why you hadn’t seen the man.

Michael calmly replied “he’s at the titty bar. He strips for cash.”

He received a smack upside the head from Ashton for the comment, and you remember the sight of Michaels (then) bright green hair flying up and a yelp leaving the boys’ lips making you laugh until your stomach hurt.

“That is child abuse, Ashton!” He screeched as he ran off camera, “and no fair! Your hands are bigger than my dick!”

Ashton simply rolled his eyes, “It wouldn’t be child abuse if you didn’t act like a child!” He shouted before looking at Calum, “he’s at work, isn’t he?”

You saw your brother change his attention from the PlayStation game he was fixated on through the screen, and he simply shrugged.

“He may be at one of those parties he never invites us to, who knows.”

And so, for a whole year, you had never seen or spoken to Luke. You didn’t even know what he looked like, apart from the knowledge that he was “the lankiest penguin in the world” according to Mikey.

You had originally planned to go to a uni closer to home, in order to stay a bit closer to family and to your girlfriend. You had your heart set on the music production course that Calum’s Uni was running, but ultimately your girlfriend convinced you to also apply to a closer University.

You simply didn’t tell anybody you applied for Calum’s one, and just applied to see if you would have gotten in.

That changed when you went over to your girlfriends house and found her in bed with your best friend, Andrew.

You thought it best to follow your own path, not the one she wanted you to forge so she could continue taking advantage of your gifts and attention while also getting her rocks off with your best friend behind your back.

On the advice of your sister, you withdrew your application to the closer University and worked your butt off to get results that were good enough for the University course you wanted.

And just as Mali promised, it paid off and you were moving your stuff into Calum’s apartment not long after graduation, as Michael was moving in with his girlfriend, Crystal, who proved to be the nicest person you had ever met.

You lived there for a whole week without running into Luke at all.

You were beginning to think he didn’t exist at all. Plates of pancakes left on the bench, or sticky notes left around the house to remind one of you to “pick up more toilet paper” was evidence enough of another person in the house.

The idea that you also retreated to your room every night at around 8 also guaranteed you were dead to the outside world until you woke the next morning.

Until one night, when Ash, Cal and yourself were binge watching the Harry Potter series, given the fact that Ashton had never seen any.

“You have got to be kidding me?!” You screeched from your bedroom after overhearing their conversation through your open door.

“What happened? Drop your contact in your bra again?” Calum asked, a smirk on his face as he focused on the game playing on the television.

You stomped to the lounge room to flick him in the ear, before directing your attention to the eldest boy, “You have never watched Harry Potter?”

“Um, no? Should I have?”

“Yes, of course you should have, Ashton! You have big Hufflepuff energy and I bet you don’t even know what that means!” Your voice was an octave higher in disbelief and your frown deepened when the boy simply cocked his head at your words.

“Uhh-“

“That is it!” Your hands were raised in the air, “We are watching the first movie tonight and I will not take no for an answer!”

The first movie turned into the second, at which Calum bid a “Goodnight nerds,” as he stalked to his bedroom.

Ashton went to bed after the second one finished, leaving you alone in the lounge room, eyes glued to the screen as the second film turned to the third and Professor Lupin tried to teach Harry to produce a Patronus.

You were so engrossed that you didn’t even hear the door open. You could have been stabbed by an intruder and you wouldn’t have even noticed because you were too enamored by the movie you had seen over 20 times.

“Slytherin is the superior house, and anybody who disagrees is boring,” a deep voice says from behind you and you jump from your seat, pegging a bowl of popcorn at the face of whoever was in the apartment.

A thud echoed around the room followed closely by a groan and you rushed to flick the lights on, which revealed a tall blond man clutching his nose with popcorn on his hair and all around him.

“Luke?” You heard Cal ask wearily, walking out of his room rubbing his eyes.

“Luke?” You repeat, shock clearly ok your features.

“Yeah, hey Y/N! I live here too!” His brows were pulled together in pain, as anybody who takes a bowl to the face would be, but he also had an amused smile on his lips.

“I am so sorry! But you snuck up on me! You could have been a robber or murderer or who knows!” Was your only reply as you took in his features.

He was tall, a lot taller than you. His shoulders were wide and it was hard to tell if he was muscular through his oversized Nirvana shirt, but he had skinny jeans clad on his long legs, and converse on his feet.

There was a small scar on his bottom lip from where a lip ring used to be, on the same side you also had a lip ring.

His hair, that looked to be somewhat long was pulled back into a bun at the bottom of his head.

He was very attractive. Anybody could see that.

Your face immediately reddened at the internal revelation and you wanted nothing more than to clean the popcorn and run to your bedroom to hide.

Which is exactly what you did. You rushed around, dusting popcorn off of the tall boy and cleaning it from the floor before running to your bedroom and burrowing yourself under the covers in embarrassment.

The next morning, the house was practically empty. Ashton and Calum had a class, and as it was your day off, you slept in for a little bit. You thought you were alone so you moved to the kitchen to make breakfast, only to come face to back with a large figure standing at the stove.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Oh, hi!” You squawked, jumping slightly at the presence of Luke.

He simply turned and handed you a plate of pancakes and returned to his work at the stove.

“So, smallest Hood, I figured since you pelted me with a bowl last night and we haven’t gotten to know each other since you got here, that you could treat me to a coffee later today?”

He turned and you could see a subtle smirk on his face. Your face blushed at the question and you gaped, still in place and holding your pancakes.

“That is,” he continued, “unless you’re a Gryffindor. I could never date one of those.”

“Date?” You managed, confusion still evident on your face.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you a couple times on a Skype call with Calum and the guys but I was nervous to join them Incase I made Calum’s beautiful sister think I’m the dorkiest person ever, but then after she pelted me with popcorn I figured ‘what worse can happen’?”

You simply laughed at the idea of the attractive man in front of you being dorky.

You moved to the counter, taking a seat and cutting into your plate of food, “how could you be dorky? And I never saw you on the Skype calls!”

“I think anybody who spends literally any free time they have at a library would be regarded as a dork,” he laughed, and your cheeks reddened at the sound, “and I saw you a few times when I had gotten home, but never gotten in view of the camera.”

Your mind wanders back to Michael asking somebody named Lucifer how the outside world was, but Calum had told you it was their Golden Retriever.

I guess that kind of fits with the golden curls hanging from Luke’s head.

Instead of proving further, you figured there was only one thing you wanted at the very moment.

“So what time for coffee?”

A smile broadened on Luke’s face and you mirrored it.

[kiara-carrera]

“Did they hurt you?” for whoever you want!!

Prompt #94: “Did they hurt you?” — Petejo

author’s note: have i been working on this for like eighty years since you sent in this ask? yes. why did it take this long? honestly, who knows.

If there was one aspect of being a superhero that Joelle Sommers didn’t care for — besides her hero name, she was going to go to the grave hating what the Daily Bugle had branded her all those months ago — it was the asshole, petty criminals that she was forced to take down. Sure, Reappear had gotten into the swing of being one of the two reigning heroes in Queens alongside her partner slash boyfriend Spider-Man, but that didn’t mean some of the guys they deal with weren’t total assholes.

Being Queens’s resident friendly neighborhood crime fighting super-losers meant that most of the time, they weren’t dealing with the big leagues. They weren’t going to class during the day to battle the Vultures of the world at night. Usually, it was just neighborhood based bank robbers and drug smugglers and the occasional annoying crime lord who had a few too many connections to weird laboratories that were bordering along the lines mad scientist. It made Jo roll her eyes. Peter got a little too ecstatic with it sometimes, but to be fair, he’d always been a little bit more cut out for the hero thing than she was. But that was beside point.

Tonight had been all about busting a group of petty thieves who may or may not have been totally trying to ship weapons to some of the bigger threats in the area. It had been going relatively well, Peter and Jo relying on Karen and Milo respectively to do some preliminary scouting and recon before they threw themselves in the field. It was supposed to be simple. Drop in, Reappear keeps them on their toes, maybe knock a few of them out, and then Spidey webs them up for the police. Cops show up, they say a few words about the endeavor, maybe the bad guy says something about meddling kids because when is their life not a reenactment of a Scooby Doo episode, and then they leave. Stop for a slice of pizza and then spend the rest of the night hanging out on the fire escape.

It was standard procedure between them.

You know, until they realized that they greatly underestimated the number of bad guys that were creeping in the warehouse. Like, we thought there were four but there were fifteen altogether sort of underestimated.

It wasn’t like Peter and Joelle weren’t capable of taking on fifteen bad guys, but like…maybe not all at once would have been nice? It’s just that when you have two high school sophomores — super powered or not — taking on fifteen grown men with weapons, nothing really went smoothly. The element of surprise had originally been on Spider-Man and Reappear’s sides, but that all quickly went to shit when they did a quick head count.

God, Jo would bet her whole life that Daredevil didn’t have to deal with this bullshit over in the Kitchen.

Anyways, despite that minor roadblock, things had been going swimmingly for the most part. Peter had dropped in quickly, delivering some really cheesy and corny line before webbing up a few guns and guys. Jo had appeared only seconds later, giving a sarcastic remark, teleporting to the bad guys other side when they made a reach for her, before harshly hitting them in the head. Bodies were quickly dropping to the floor unconscious or entirely stuck together with whatever Peter’s web fluid was made of, the group of men quickly dwindling.

When they were down to a very small, very manageable group, they managed to get the jump on Joelle. Apparently, her normally impeccable timing with teleporting out of the way before getting hit was wearing down just a tad what with the whole fifteen bad guys instead of four ordeal.

That being said, when she went to fake out the first bad guy, she ended up screwing herself over. His elbow had made contact with her arm, causing her to stumble into the path of his friend. The second one’s fist had managed to clip her head at the last possible second and while she still managed to teleport away from him, she landed in a completely different spot then she had intended to, crumpling to the ground in a pathetic heap as a searing pain radiated over her skull.

“Fucking hell,” she moaned, her voice thick with pain. She could make out the sound of Peter yelling, either to her or at the idiots who managed to take her down a peg, but she blocked that out. Rolling over onto her side slowly, letting out a pained hiss as she bit out, “Milo? On a scale of one to ten, how fucked am I?”

In only a few seconds, her Tony Stark approved (and occasionally Dax Gonzalez hacked) AI replied. “Initial scans don’t detect any permanent any damage. Presence of a concussion is unlikely, although you may experience headache like symptoms for quite a bit. Perhaps an ibuprofen would be sufficient at masking the pain?”

“I don’t suppose this suit has a super secret med dispenser?”

“That’s a negative.”

“Perfect,” she muttered out through gritted teeth.

A couple of yells, groans, and thwip sounds later, she felt someone looming over her. Wincing when she forced her eyes open, Jo could see the blurry image of her boyfriend crouched over her, face more than likely contorted in concern under the mask of his suit. Blinking a few times, Jo craned her neck to see both guys that had hit her webbed up agains the back wall.

“Nice job, Spider-Loser,” she croaked out, causing the eyes on the suit to constrict as Peter peered down at her.

“I thought we said we weren’t going to call me that anymore,” Peter whined, effectively sounding like an upset three year old.

Jo tried to shake her head, but only groaned, her hand darting to hold the side of her head as if that was going to make any difference. Lowly, she replied, “We discussed no such thing.”

Peter sighed, but moved on nonetheless. “Did they hurt you?”

“Dumb and Dumber over there?” Peter nodded. “Oh yeah, definitely. Asshole clipped my forehead before I could jump out of there.”

Another sigh. “C’mon, we should go. Karen said the cops are on their way anyways, so we should be fine leaving them here.”

“You know Jameson’s gonna be on our asses in the Bugle if we hero and dash again,” Jo replied, managing a small chuckle through her lips.

Peter shrugged. She was certain if the mask wasn’t covering his face, his usual boyish smile would be tugging at his lips. “He’s just gonna call us menaces to the city either way,” he told her, helping her to her feet. He managed to maneuver her to sling her arms around his shoulders and once he’s certain she won’t let go of him, he nodded at her. “And besides, you probably need an ice pack or something.”

“And pizza?”

Raising his free arm up towards the skylight he’d burst in through earlier, web shooter aimed at the ready, he laughs. “Definitely pizza.”

[kijiboop]

Graverobber x OFC (ft Trevor) - Chase Your Own Morning: Chapter One

A/N: Some of you have already read the opening part of this chapter, but I have edited it and added the research I did on sinus anatomy. This chapter is Safe for Work but they won’t all be. I promise. 

He was humming again. It was one thing to share a territory with the asshole and something else entirely to have to listen to his fucking humming while he worked. Trevor stood up in the opened grave and threw the old bat's favorite teacup as hard as he could. It shattered against a headstone in a brittle spray of porcelain and he snapped, "Shut the fuck up!"

The face that poked up over the side of another grave was deathly pale itself with the kind of heavy black eyeliner Trevor tended to associate with teenage girls at emo concerts, but that face belonged to neither the dead nor anyone under the age of 21. Graverobber grinned at his counterpart. "Good evening to you, sir." Searchlights flashed over their heads and both men looked up warily until they had moved on without sirens. "Am I bothering you?" Graverobber continued.

Trevor tried not to visibly seethe. He knew the Zydrate peddler could see it and got off on pissing off his neighbors. "I don't want fucking GeneCo pigs poking around because you can't keep your fucking lip buttoned, asshole. Shut up."

"Because a little innocent humming is far more obtrusive than shattering the fine china," Graverobber purred and his sharp-edged smile widened when Trevor's nostrils flared. He stretched his arms along the edge of the grave and propped his chin on the backs of his hands. "Is something on your mind, Trevor? Or did you just feel like breaking something? There's nothing wrong with that. I've heard it's quite healthy to express rage rather than bottling it up." He held up a filled vial of Zydrate and wiggled it so the blue glow flashed brighter.

Trevor exhaled sharply, not quite a snort but not a sigh, either. "Just be fucking quiet for once," he grumbled and turned back to the corpse in the casket at his feet. She had died at a ripe 103 and was more than ripe enough now. Trevor pulled the syringe from a roll of tools stuffed into the back of his belt and probed up the cadaver's nostril. When the investigation yielded nothing usable, he tried the other, then through one tear duct. "Fuck," he growled and took one of the longer spikes out. Normally, he could pull what he needed from the sinus cavity just behind the inside corner of the eyes or from the frontal sinuses in the forehead. Lately, though, more and more of the corpses turning up in the graveyards were empty and graverobbers like Trevor had to resort to driving an awl through under the cheekbone to get to the maxillary sinuses behind the cheeks. If he was lucky, he could get to the sphenoid sinuses even deeper in, the goodie box locked deepest inside. "Tough old broad," he sighed once the steel spike had punched through the bone and he could insert the syringe's needle to draw out the Zydrate.

"Need help?" Graverobber asked in a low voice.

"I'm fine," Trevor snorted back. He filled a vial and sealed it before withdrawing the rest of his tools and kicking the lid of the coffin shut again. "I need a better score than this place, though. Everything's dried up, even the sphenoids."

"It happens with the rich," Graverobber sighed as he hoisted himself out of his own pit. "Something about their souls shriveling up like ugly little grapes." He offered Trevor a hand up. When Trevor eyed him warily, Robber glared and shook his open hand at Trevor in emphasis. "I won't drop you," he said. "I promise."

Trevor glowered and gripped the lean man's hand. "I'm not one of your scalpel sluts. You don't have to fucking promise me anything. God, I don't think I'd touch some of them no matter how desperate they were." When they were standing on equal footing again, Trevor brushed grave dirt from his pants and pegged Graverobber with a sour look. "I heard you've got a new one."

Graverobber paused as he started to turn away and tucked his chin. "She's not like that."

"Sure," Trevor snorted but blinked when Robber turned back to him with an angry glare. "Okay, jesus. What's she like then?"

"Pray you find out someday." Robber walked purposefully toward the graveyard's broken and twisted gates. Every step rattled the vials of Zydrate in his pocket until he reached one hand down and rearranged the vials into an inside sleeve.

"I heard she's a junkie from uptown," Trevor replied and hopped awkwardly over a fallen headstone to follow Graverobber out of the cemetery. The grin on his face hinted that he had scented fresh blood in Robber's reaction and he wasn't about to pass that up. "She need the Glow to keep her tits from falling off?"

Graverobber was not a man of violence. It didn't come naturally to him, in spite of the life he lived on the streets and in the underground of the GeneCo sub-markets. He preferred to evade, to misdirect and escape in the ensuing chaos. Everyone knew this of him, perhaps Trevor better than anyone. So the pale fist that connected with his throat and the second that slammed into his stomach was almost as much a surprise for happening as the pain that dropped him to his knees, choking. "You've never known her like," Robber hissed in Trevor's ear, then shoved him roughly to the ground before he turned and stalked away again.

Trevor choked and coughed, curled around his aching stomach. Obviously, this girl was something special. "What's her name?" he croaked as Graverobber reached the sidewalk outside the graveyard.

The man stopped and looked back. In the light from the street lamp, the black kohl rendered his eyes almost invisible. "Alleluia," he said and then he was gone.

#

Leylu jerked awake. She was in her own bed, in her own apartment, with her own leggy cat hunched on her headboard like a wingless vulture. "Good morning, Ass," she said and the cat squinted, purring loudly. She had found him as a kitten being tortured on the streets when she was still living with her parents and her father had agreed to let her keep him in spite of their financial troubles. She had named him Asmodeus. Mostly she called him "Az" or "Ass" depending on her mood and his behavior. So far, he hadn't been living up to either the demonic nor the asshole-ish monikers, but she knew it was only a matter of time if she didn't get up and feed him soon. "Sleep well?" she asked the cat as she sat on the side of the sagging mattress and reached to ruffle the sleek, black fur behind his ears.

With Asmodeus weaving between her ankles in his determination to be stepped on, Leylu worked her way into the small kitchen of her apartment and put down a plate of wet cat food. It smelled better than what she had eaten last night herself and far better than it had coming back up again. The pain pills she had been taking just couldn't hold a candle to the ache of her swollen corneas and the nausea from the combination of the two just proved to her that the pills were as much of a waste of money as Zyciel had told her they would be. But they were cheaper than an adjustment. Cheaper than the Zydrate hit in a sterile office. Cheaper than the weekly visits that one adjustment would lead her into and far, far cheaper than a single hit of street Zydrate. Like what Zyciel sold.

Thoughts of the drug and thoughts of the man were tangled in her mind and Leylu sighed, pausing to rest her aching head against the cool metal of her refrigerator. She knew she needed something. She knew her blood screamed for the Glow while her nerve endings pleaded for anything, even the sterilized shit in the offices. Her body, though, ached for him. The tangled memories of four weeks ago flooded her mind, memories of the grave robber who found her on the street and took pity, then took her body when she offered it. Memories of naming him and his smile when she had, embarrassed and egotistical all at once. He had taken her home with him and they had spent the next two days chasing her withdrawal symptoms into submission, his body on hers and her hands tangled in his hair. By the end of it, she could stand without trembling, could be touched without craving immediate satisfaction. Zyciel could hold her gently and kiss her forehead and she could hear the real affection that had grown in his voice, could hear her own affection toward him. She missed him.

Claws sank into her foot and Leylu yelped, glared down at the cat's flattened triangle ears, far too large for his face and the almond eyes that glittered as green as new leaves. "Asshole," she snapped at him and he squinted at her, purring again. He knew his name. Leylu sighed and reached down to gather the collection of stringy muscle and bone into her arms. "What am I gonna do, you?" she whispered while Asmodeus purred and butted his pointy face against her chin. "I'm right on the raggedy edge." She ran one hand over his ears, flattening them to his head while he purred louder. "I need something."

"Did you call me?" Leylu smothered a shriek and released Asmodeus when the cat flung himself out of her arms with a yelp of his own. Crouched in the tiny barred window of her apartment was Graverobber. Her Zyciel. He grinned at her, obviously pleased with having scared the scream out of her.

"How the hell did you get up here?" she demanded as she unlocked the wrought iron bars that covered the window to let him inside. "We're three stories up!"

"Only." Graverobber tucked one knuckle under her chin and tipped her head back so he could kiss her. "What's a thirty-foot fall between friends?"

"Friends?" she chuckled back and wrapped her arms around his neck, indulging in a deeper kiss that quickly caught them both in something more intense. "Is that what we are?" she managed when she came up for air.

Graverobber didn't answer, chose instead to brush his lips against hers and let his eyes half-close before kissing her again. Leylu realized she could feel tension in his body that wasn't normal, something tight in the way his hands drew her against him. "I missed you," he breathed and Leylu blinked at him, tried to meet his eyes but he wouldn't look at her. His hand closed tightly on her hip and she wondered what was bothering him.

"What is it?" she finally asked and brushed her palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch before looking at her from under his lashes.

"Your eyes are green," he said and Leylu sighed. He was being cagey again. "I couldn't tell before. In the alley. Your pupils were so huge and it was so dark." He ran his fingers down her cheek, then brushed his thumb along her jaw. "Were they always green?"

"The irises are original," she sighed. "Zyciel, you're dodging me."

Hearing her name for him seemed to hurt him because he flinched and released her to pace restlessly through the apartment. "I missed you," he repeated but this time, it was offered as an explanation. "I don't... miss people. I don't miss things." He stopped suddenly beside her sink and stared down at the rough green scrubbing pad tucked under the faucet. "I punched someone today. I don't...know why." Before she could touch him, he shook his head hard and started to pace again. "I do know why. Because he was an asshole and he got on my nerves but he always does that and he's always an asshole and I've never punched him before."

"Zyciel, stop," Leylu sighed.

"He just needed to be punched and I did it and..." he stopped and looked down at the knuckles of his left hand. "My hand hurts."

Leylu took his hand between her own and turned it so she could look at the knuckles. "They look bruised but you didn't break the skin," she said softly. "You must not have punched him in the face."

"Throat," Graverobber said, almost absently. He watched as she stroked her fingertips over his knuckles, then between his fingers to hold his hand. "Not that his face would know the difference. He's been punched by bigger men than me."

"I missed you, too," Leylu whispered when he was quiet for a while. Graverobber lifted his head enough to look at her and some of the confusion left his face when she smiled at him. She slipped her free hand along his cheek and he sighed, let his eyes fall closed again. "Are you okay?"

"I extract potent illicit drugs from corpses for a living and punched my best friend in the throat today." He opened his eyes to smirk at her. "Not really." He shook his head as if to clear it and brushed her hair back from her face. "You said you needed something. Can I help?"

Leylu smiled and looped her arms around his neck, stood on her toes and kissed him. "I should hope so. What I need is you." Graverobber exhaled slowly and gathered her closer, returning the kiss as his body relaxed more into the tension she was familiar with. When his hand gently cupped her throat, she sighed softly and tipped her head back. "I missed you," she whispered.

Graverobber was silent a moment, then brushed his thumb over her pulse. "Missed me or my dick?"

Leylu opened her eyes in surprise at the edge of loneliness in his voice. "I missed you, Zyciel," she whispered. He smiled at her, a slow, sad smile that brought her hands to his face. "I did. You. Your body is a nice bonus to your visit, but it's you I missed."

"The smell of Zydrate doesn't hurt, either." She recoiled and he sighed, reaching one hand after her. "I'm sorry. That was unfair." After a moment, Leylu returned to lean against his chest, her face buried in his shirt. It took her a moment to realize that the lingering tang of death and the glowing blue drug weren't clinging to his clothes or his skin; he just smelled like himself. "I'm not used to this," he murmured against the top of her head, stroking her hair. "I'm used to barter and trade, drugs for sex and the gold that makes the world go around. I feel like I owe you for the time we've spent and I don't like owing anyone."

"You don't owe me," Leylu whispered, hugging him tighter. "I'm not--"

"You're not a scalpel slut," he interrupted softly. "I know. I know you don't enjoy the high you crave. But capitalism is still pretty forefront in how my mind works, sweetie. If you don't enjoy the high I gave you, then I was doing you a service. Which means you owe me and that's not right, either. I still gave you the hit even without a gun pressed against your anatomy."

"Shut up." Leylu pulled him by the lapels of his jacket so he tipped forward and his mouth met hers hard. He clung to her as she kissed him fiercely, then staggered when she pushed him, levering her center of gravity against his taller frame until he dropped into a chair with a grunt. She glided into his lap and pursued his mouth, ran her hands up into his hair from the base of his skull and leaned herself against his chest. "I enjoyed your high," she whispered against his lips. "Just like you enjoyed mine. Capitalism has no place with us. No little glass vials or stinging guns. Just you and me and our high."

"God," he groaned and kissed her with hunger and longing. "Yours is the only high I want."

Leylu laughed and leaned her forehead against his. "For now." When he blinked and opened his mouth to protest, she kissed him again. "Shh. Don't deny it. I know enough to know the street value of your product. I know how some pay you."

Graverobber stroked her hair back from her cheek, tucked it behind her ear. "Not anymore," he murmured. "Should I hang a sign? This establishment no longer accepts GeneCo Sexpress?"

"No," she chuckled. "Just don't lie to me about it." When she leaned in to kiss him again, she paused. "You're serious."

"I am," he whispered. "It's a serious subject."

"You are not a serious man."

"I'm trying it on for size."

Somewhere behind them in the kitchen, the cat yowled his displeasure at being ignored and something crashed to the floor. Leylu put her head on Graverobber's shoulder and let herself giggle helplessly. "Another country heard from," she said.

"He doesn't get a vote in our sex life," he chuckled and kissed her temple.

"You haven't tried to have sex around a cat before, have you?" Leylu grinned. "He very much gets a vote." Graverobber snorted and hugged her closer while she nosed against his neck. "Are you really...?"

"Yeah." He turned his head just enough to kiss her forehead. "I mean it. You're the only high I want." He sighed and closed his eyes, rocked her slowly in his lap. "I suppose that means I need a safer way to visit you than climbing the drain pipe."

"You climbed three stories of drain pipe to a locked window in hopes I was home?"

Graverobber grinned. "I knew you were home. I could see your light from the ground."

Leylu was quiet for a while, then whispered, "Zyciel, you could get arrested if you visit me openly, couldn't you?"

"Unsanctioned Zydrate sales are rather illegal, dear. Yes, I could." He circled his fingers in the small of her back. "It's not safe for you to visit me, either."

"How do you pay your bill?"

"I've got a guy." When Leylu looked at him skeptically, he grinned. "No, I do. Someone who passes uptown better than I do. I drop him gold and a percentage, he pays the bill, the Repo Man leaves me alone for another month."

"Who's your guy?"

Graverobber raised an eyebrow curiously. "Why do you want to know?"

"I could be your guy," she murmured. "I won't charge as much."

"No."

She sat up with her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to rest her forehead against his. "If you need to satisfy your capitalist soul--"

"I don't," Graverobber snapped. "Not at that kind of risk." He put both hands on her cheeks and held her face so she couldn't look away. "I'd rather be repo'ed than have you hurt."

"Big talk for a guy who feels like he's standing in for a little glass vial."

He glared at her and Leylu pushed her face against his hands so she could reach him to kiss him. "My world hasn't exactly been the same since I met you," he sighed after he returned her kiss. "I'm serious. I'm never serious. I punched someone. I don't fight with my fists. I fight with my brain and how fast I can run." He paused, then sighed. "I called Trevor my friend. I'm pretty sure he'd sell me out in a heartbeat for another week of the GeneCops looking the other way. And I punched him. Some friend."

"Did he punch you back?" Leylu murmured. When he shook his head, she grinned. "He let you punch him."

"He didn't think I would," Graverobber corrected her, then stopped to meet her eyes. "Because he's my friend and he didn't think his friend would hit him." Shaking his head, he chuckled and kissed her again. "I should go find him and apologize. He throws shit at me--sometimes literally--all the time, but he's never once hit me with it."

"Will you come back?" Leylu asked as she slipped out of his lap.

"Am I going somewhere?" Graverobber said without standing up. When Leylu gave him a glare, he grinned. "Alright, yes, I'll go find him tonight. Don't you have to work tomorrow?" He stood and collected her for another kiss.

"I do," Leylu sighed.

"By the time I find him and apologize and wake up again from him punching my lights out, you will have already gone to bed," he murmured. "I'll come back tomorrow night." He stroked her cheek and smiled at her. "Maybe you can get an escape ladder or something."

"My own personal goth Romeo," she grinned.

"I hope not," Graverobber snorted. "That poor bitch drank poison. I just sell it."

"I'm having a romantic relationship with the Apothecary, then," Leylu laughed and he shook his head, grinning as he leaned down to kiss her. "I'll see you tomorrow night," she whispered.

"With a ladder?"

"With a ladder."

@genevievedarcygranger @lucifers-trash-stash @vizhi0n @roguesandsaviors

[kijiboop]

Character Mashup - World in Progress

He was humming again. It was one thing to share a territory with the asshole and something else entirely to have to listen to his fucking humming while he worked. Trevor stood up in the opened grave and threw the old bat's favorite teacup as hard as he could. It shattered against a headstone in a brittle spray of porcelain and he snapped, "Shut the fuck up!"

The face that poked up over the side of another grave was deathly pale itself with the kind of heavy black eyeliner Trevor tended to associate with teenaged girls at emo concerts, but that face belonged to neither the dead nor anyone under the age of 21. Graverobber grinned at his counterpart. "Good evening to you, sir." Search lights flashed over their heads and both men looked up warily until they had moved on without sirens. "Am I bothering you?" Graverobber continued.

Trevor tried not to visibly seethe. He knew the Zydrate peddler could see it and got off on pissing off his neighbors. "I don't want fucking GeneCo pigs poking around because you can't keep your fucking lip buttoned, asshole. Shut up."

"Because a little innocent humming is far more obtrusive than shattering the fine china," Graverobber purred and his sharp-edged smile widened when Trevor's nostrils flared. He stretched his arms along the edge of the grave and propped his chin on the backs of his hands. "Is something on your mind, Trevor? Or did you just feel like breaking something. There's nothing wrong with that. I've heard it's quite healthy to express rage rather than bottling it up." He held up a filled vial of Zydrate and wiggled it so the blue glow flashed brighter.

Trevor exhaled sharply, not quite a snort but not a sigh, either. "Just be fucking quiet for once," he grumbled and turned back to the corpse in the casket at his feet. She had died at a ripe 103 and was more than ripe enough now. Trevor pulled the syringe from a roll of tools stuffed into the back of his belt and probed up the cadaver's nostril. When the investigation yielded nothing usable, he tried the other, then through one tear duct. "Fuck," he growled and took one of the longer spikes out, preparing to jab it through the sinuses and pierce the thin bone that separated the [tk anatomy] sinuses just behind the forehead. Normally, he could get what he needed from the other areas, but this was a last resort on a corpse so desiccated as to have locked the last of the goodies deep inside. "Tough old broad," he sighed once the awl had punched through the bone and he could insert the syringe's needle to draw out the Zydrate.

"Need help?" Graverobber asked in a low voice.

"I'm fine," Trevor snorted back. He filled a vial and sealed it before withdrawing the rest of his tools and kicking the lid of the coffin shut again. "I need a better score than this place, though. Everything's dried up."

"It happens with the rich," Graverobber sighed as he hoisted himself out of his own pit and offered Trevor a hand up. Trevor eyed him warily and Robber glared, shaking his open hand at Trevor in emphasis. "I won't drop you," he said. "I promise."

Trevor glowered and gripped the lean man's hand. "I'm not one of your scalpel sluts. You don't have to fucking promise me anything." When they were standing on equal footing again, Trevor brushed grave dirt from his pants and pegged Graverobber with a sour look. "I heard you've got a new one."

Graverobber paused as he started to turn away and tucked his chin. "She's not like that."

"Sure," Trevor snorted, but blinked when Robber turned back to him with an angry glare. "Okay, jesus. What's she like then?"

"If you've heard about her, you already know." Robber walked purposefully toward the graveyard's broken and twisted gates. Every step rattled the vials of Zydrate in his pocket until he reached one hand into the pocket and rearranged the vials into an inside sleeve.

"I heard a junkie from uptown," Trevor replied and hopped awkwardly over a fallen headstone to follow Graverobber out of the cemetery. The grin on his face hinted that he had scented fresh blood in Robber's reaction and he wasn't about to pass that up. "She need the Glow to keep her tits from falling off?"

Graverobber was not a man of violence. It didn't come naturally to him, in spite of the life he lived on the streets and in the underground of the GeneCo sub-markets. He preferred to evade, to misdirect and escape in the ensuing chaos. Everyone knew this of him, perhaps Trevor better than anyone. So the pale fist that connected with his throat and the second that slammed into his stomach was almost as much a surprise for happening as the pain that dropped him to his knees, choking. "You'll never know her like," Robber hissed in Trevor's ear, then shoved him roughly to the ground before he turned and stalked away again.

Trevor choked and coughed, curled around his aching stomach. Obviously, this girl was something special. "What's her name?" he croaked as Graverobber reached the sidewalk outside the graveyard.

The man stopped and looked back. In the light from the street lamp, the black kohl rendered his eyes almost invisible. "Alleluia," he said and then he was gone.

@genevievedarcygranger @lucifers-trash-stash @vizhi0n