#I wasn’t murdered and I’m not angry at anyone

[waugh-bao]

*

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

“nice piece, isn’t it?” your ex-husband finally spoke to the man sitting beside him, the one who had been staring at you like he wanted to devour you for minutes now.

his tone wasn’t angry at all; in fact, he sounded like they were close friends, joking casually. there wasn’t even a hint of murderous intent in his voice.

the man, who had been staring at you like he was in a trance, didn’t even glance at gojo as he replied, “rare to find one like that.” he chuckled as if he’d said something incredibly funny and took a sip of his drink.

it wasn’t funny. at least, not to gojo.

your ex-husband didn’t let his expression slip; instead, he laughed at the man’s words, clinking his glass against his in agreement. he wasn’t particularly fond of drinking, but tonight, he needed it more than anything else.

first, it was friday night, and you’d come to this bar with your friends—a bar full of men who wanted nothing more than to fuck you.

second, you were wearing the shortest and most beautiful light blue dress in existence. (you’d chosen it because it was the same shade as his eyes, making him think you hadn’t forgotten him.)

third, from his seat at a table a little removed from yours—where he could still see you—he’d noticed that not only was he watching you like some pervert, but the guy beside him was eyeing you too. it took everything in him not to smash his head in.

he knew he was just as much a creep as the guy, but he also knew that no other man had the right to look at you like that. no one but him. no matter what had happened between the two of you, no one else could ogle your legs or the parts of your chest that your dress left exposed.

the man finally turned to gojo, offering his hand in introduction and stating his name. your ex-husband didn’t hesitate to shake his hand, a friendly grin on his face, and said, “satoru gojo.”

“we’ve just met, i know, but why are you alone?” the man’s gaze roamed over gojo, lingering on the black cap covering his unmistakable white hair. “no offense, but you’re one hell of a handsome bastard. god’s favorite, i’m sure. seems crazy for a guy like you to be drinking alone.”

if he hadn’t been ogling you like a meal, gojo might’ve actually liked him. there wasn’t much he enjoyed more than hearing others praise how good he looked.

except for hearing it from you.

“why can’t someone like me, come to a bar to drink alone?”

the man laughed, taking another sip of his drink. “you should be surrounded by girls all the time, but instead, you're here, blocking guys like me from having a shot.”

gojo barely held back a hearty laugh. he never thought he’d laugh so much at a guy he wanted to strangle. “divorced a year ago. guess i’m not god’s favorite anymore. if i were, i wouldn’t be here. i’d be inside her right now.”

that was, without a doubt, his favorite place to be.

the man looked at gojo with a hint of sympathy. “shit, you sound like you miss her, man.”

he missed you. more than anything.

the man placed a hand on gojo’s shoulder like a supportive friend. “you know what? screw that whore, man. if she lost a guy like you, that’s on her. plenty of hot things in here tonight to take your mind off it.”

“whore?” huh… keeping himself from killing this guy was getting harder by the second. who did he think he was to call you that? what he’d do if he found out he just called the woman he’s been staring at for hours a whore?

the man had no idea he’d just dug his own grave.

“is that so?” gojo’s gaze drifted back to your table. you were laughing at something your friend had said, looking incredibly happy. but gojo could tell you were bored out of your mind and wanted to go home.

“hell yeah,” the man grinned, leaning in closer to gojo. “you got your eye on anyone?”

he did. just you.

a fire of possession ignited in gojo’s eyes. “maybe.”

the man followed gojo’s gaze. “haha, so you’re after the one i’ve been watching, huh? normally, i don’t share, but i like you, my friend. you deserve to blow off some steam with a nice pussy after a year.” the guy laughed as he leaned away, motioning to the bartender to refill his drink.

you were never his. you hadn’t been anyone’s. no one could share you because you belonged to one person and one person only. even if your marriage was over, no one else could even think about touching you.

and gojo was definitely not this guy’s friend.

“maybe i do deserve it,” gojo bit the inside of his cheek to contain his anger.

“bet she’s tight as hell and warm too. i mean, damn, those legs around your waist must feel amazing.”

oh, you were tight and warm, all right. gojo knew that firsthand. he remembered every time he’d fucked you senseless—how your legs would lock around his waist, your toes curling, your walls gripping him as you came undone. there wasn’t a single thing about you he’d forgotten.

gojo took a hard sip of his drink. “absolutely. and those perfect lips of hers? let’s just say she knows how to make a man see heaven while she’s on her knees. i’d fuck her throat until tears streamed down her face, and she’d still take all of me.”

“fuck, dude, you really want her. hope she doesn’t have a boyfriend. though, if she’s wearing a dress that short, i doubt it. no guy with a brain would let his girl wear something like that.”

no, he wouldn’t. and he hadn’t. in fact, your fights about this were one of the reasons for your divorce. but the real reason sat beside him now—your ex-husband knew exactly what kind of creeps were out there and felt the need to protect you from them.

the smile on gojo’s face finally faded. “trust me, i wasn’t allowing it.”

the man looked at him, confused. “you weren’t?”

gojo tore his gaze away from you and turned those dangerously piercing blue eyes to him. “yeah. who would want to offer the woman they love to guys like you on a silver platter?”

“what the fuck are you saying?” the man asked, his voice trembling as he noticed the lethal glint in gojo’s eyes.

“the tight, warm pussy you’re dying to fuck belongs to my ex-wife.” gojo leaned in closer to the man, the urge to strangle him growing stronger with every passing second.

“are you fucking crazy?”

he’d been crazy about you since the moment he met you.

“fuck yes. i’m absolutely insane. insane about everything about her. but if there’s one thing that drives me even crazier, it’s some bastard like you describing how her pussy might feel. because…” he leaned in, whispering into the man’s ear, “right now, i’m struggling not to kill you, but tonight, when you go to the house you think is safe, i can’t wait to show up and wrap my hands around your throat with delight.”

the man’s eyes widened in terror. he’d just realized he was sitting next to an absolute maniac.

“how do i know you’re not bullshitting me?” he stammered.

gojo immediately pulled back and, in the same friendly tone he had used when they first met, said, “oh, that’s very simple.” he pulled out his phone from his coat and opened your chat��where he sent at least 500 messages a day and still hadn’t been blocked.

gojo: blue always suits you, baby, but don’t you think that dress is a bit too short?

gojo: did you wear it because you knew i’d be watching tonight?

gojo: for someone who never answers my texts or calls, you sure know exactly what i’ve been saying ;)

gojo knew you always read the messages he sent through notifications. in a few seconds, you’d do it again. he liked knowing you were aware he was watching you because he knew you were just as crazy as he was.

“watch,” gojo said, almost like a warning to the man, his eyes shifting to the table where you sat with your friends.

as soon as the message came through, your eyes moved to your phone. a few seconds later, you scanned the room, and when your gaze landed on the bar table a little distance away—where your ex-husband sat, wearing a black cap and flashing you that devastating smile—your cheeks turned crimson.

“see that, buddy?” gojo, still staring at you, leaned closer to the man. “look how i made her blush. and trust me, those won’t be the only cheeks turning red tonight.” then he turned his full attention to the man. “now get lost. immediately.”

stunned, the man fumbled for his wallet, threw a few bills on the table for his drinks, and hurriedly left without another word. gojo watched him leave before turning his attention back to you, a confused look on your face as you stared at him.

ex-husband!gojo would do anything to eliminate the creeps who ogled you—whether from your vicinity or the world entirely.

but before he dealt with that man, he had to punish you for wearing that dress.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[spicy-apple-pie]

Okay, hot take time.

I hate the pendulum swing that is Dick and Jason as Robins. That is, their personalities as the sunshine Robin and the scary robin.

When I joined the fandom, the consensus was that Dick was the sunshine, happy go lucky Robin while Jason was the violent, snarky Robin. Now things have shifted because people realized that the whole reason Dick became Robin was to kill the people who murdered his parents. And Jason was very focused on school, he was a good kid and wanted to help because he knew what it was like for the victims.

And to me, that kinda wipes away the complexity of their characters. Full disclosure I’m not an expert on the characters, I haven’t even really read anything that’s based solely on them. Except for Long Victory.

Dick was raised with loving parents in a community of people. The first time he experienced loss was probably the loss of his parents. And unlike Bruce, he didn’t have anyone to take care of him or somewhere to call home. He was left in a strange city in a foster system that was probably as corrupt as the police force that ignored him when he said it wasn’t an accident. He’s going to be angry. It wouldn’t make sense if he wasn’t. But that’s not to say that he has to stay angry forever. Bruce brought him in so that he wouldn’t have to feel alone like he did when his parents were killed.

But Jason on the other hand, was so used to loss. His Father was abusive, he watched his mother overdose, he had to care for himself on the streets, convinced that this was all his life was going to be. So when Bruce took him in and gave him the chance to be something more? To pursue his interests and help people like him? You bet your ass he’s going to take that opportunity. But that doesn’t make him an angel.

Idek what I’m trying to say here. Basically two things can be true at the same time. Just because Jason liked school, it doesn’t mean he’s the purest boy to ever grace Gotham. And just because Dick started out angry, it doesn’t mean he has to stay that way.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[aealzx]

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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The excursion in the Batcave hadn't set Danny’s recovery back as much as he'd thought it would, which he was grateful for. He’d missed dinner that day, having slept through it after they had given him additional medication to keep his fever under control. But the next morning he'd still been able to join a few people for breakfast, even if it was a little later than most. It was also a little quieter than usual, with the heavy topic from the previous afternoon weighing on people’s minds.

“...Are you sure you’re still feeling better?” Jazz asked, noting how Danny was absently nibbling on the toast he had with a light cream cheese forgotten on the side.

“Hm?” Danny voiced, twitching his head to look at her before fully registering what she’d asked. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he assured, giving her a brief smile. She didn’t seem convinced though, so he gave her a little more. “I’m just lost in thought, Jazz. Yesterday was… a lot.”

“You mean the part about Raven saying you were probably murdered?” Jason asked, strangely having stayed at the manor that night and stuck around that morning. Cass had ended up starting a hushed conversation that he had adopted these kids as his responsibility since they had shown up closest to his usual patrol grounds, but he wouldn’t comment on it.

“Yeah… Yeah that’s probably the big thing,” Danny agreed with a grimace. Man this guy was blunt. But, also maybe the best one to be commenting about something like this. There were a lot less people around too, maybe it was safe for him to satiate his earlier curiosity. “...I guess out of everyone here you’d … probably understand the most?” Wait, Danielle had said Jason had died before, but she hadn’t said it was murder. “U’unless it was something else that…” Okay this was a lot more awkward than he thought it would be.

“...No, you’re right. I was… murdered,” Jason confirmed, toying with his own cereal for a moment. “But it wasn’t anything crazy magical like you. Just a crowbar and bomb. That and we all know the guy that did it. Piece of shit.”

“Oh…,” Danny responded quietly, thankful that Jazz was decidedly staying quiet and allowing them to converse. “I don’t… Hm… I’m not sure which one I’d prefer honestly,” he admitted with a weak chuckle. “I mean, electrocution is no fun, hurts like a bitch, but… But at least it wasn’t drawn out.”

“...That’s a fair point,” Jason agreed, “I imagine it’s not the part that’s got you so distracted though.”

“...... No… It’s not,” Danny confirmed, lowering his toast as his brows pressed together in smothered guilt. “I…” It was hard to say it aloud, but of anyone he felt like Jason wouldn’t judge him for his thoughts. “S’she said that someone who was there would’ve had to have had the desire to s’sacrifice me or whatever. A’and at the moment I was more angry that she would imply that Clockwork had lied to me, that I - that something had happened that took away my ability to choose. But also… I don’t like what it implies about…”

Jason was quiet as he listened patiently for Danny to voice his thoughts, the words confirming ideas he’d had as well as keying him in on what was bothering Danny. But when he fell quiet before being able to finish voicing his concern Jason filled in what he could guess the worry was. “About who was there with you…?” he half asked, half stated.

Danny flinched when that fact was put in the open, but now that it was it made it easier to add details. “...Sam and Tucker were the only ones there with me.”

“Oh!” Jazz suddenly burst, raising her hands in realization and reaching over to grab Danny, “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, we forgot to tell you!”

“What? What!?” Danny sputtered, startled by his sister’s outburst.

“Sam asked Raven about that last night before they left. She was worried that her and Tucker being there could have been seen as them trying to murder you, but Raven said they couldn’t have just been present, they would have had to know about the sacrifice being a payment for the ritual kind of thing and clearly had the intention to kill you,” Jazz rambled quickly. “Sorry! I didn’t think that was what had you so distracted. We were going to tell you last night when you woke up, but you slept through the night.”

Danny had to stare at Jazz in silence while that whirlwind of facts got smashed into his brain. So they had already cleared up that Sam and Tucker hadn’t accidentally murdered him, but forgot to tell him? Well, it was only a few hours later, so maybe he shouldn’t be upset. At least it clarified for certain that his friends hadn’t secretly wanted to kill him. But then it brought him back to the major question that had yet to be answered. “Then who did?!”

That one Jazz didn’t have an answer to, and reluctantly let Danny go to helplessly raise her hands in a shrug. “I don’t know? Maybe no one did? I mean- Mom and Dad couldn’t possibly have accidentally done magic, right?” she attempted with a weak laugh, betraying her own discomfort with the idea that their parents had accidentally done something more dangerous than they’d ever thought.

“No, I think they did,” Danny countered easily, a little miffed.

Jason raised a brow after that, curious what else Danny had realized. “Care to elaborate?” he asked, half because he wanted the answer and half to give Jazz a chance to process what Danny had said.

Danny did not actually want to elaborate, he didn’t want to pull up memories of that afternoon again. But he did realize it was important, and therefore forced himself to answer. “The portal… After drawing that diagram out yesterday, and remembering some things, I realized Raven… might have some merit to what she’s saying,” he admitted, pouting a bit reluctantly since he’d been so ready to discredit her before. “The portal didn’t turn on when I went inside it. It was when I put my-... put my hand on the wall. There was a switch that I knocked, and I realized… it was located at one of the concentration points I drew on the diagram. So I probably completed the circuit by accident, and made it so the stupid ritual thing was complete,” he explained, absently raising his left hand as he recalled the memory.

“...Oh….,” Jason grunted, having not expected that. So this kid’s parents probably really had accidentally mixed science with magic, and Danny had ended up half killed because of it. But despite that, Jason was curious. “Okay… so maybe someone did want to kill you, maybe they actually didn’t. It really sounds like happenstance from what I’ve heard. Does it matter if someone wanted to kill you?” He already knew the answer, but he was curious if Danny would surprise him and actually admit it didn’t matter.

“Of course it matters!” Danny sputtered, bringing a fist to the table. “I want to punch them in the face for ruining my life for the past two years! Do you know how hard it is to get into NASA? I just wanted to be an astronaut and go to space - the literal coolest thing ever to exist - but now my grades are shit and I’m barely passing highschool because of all these ghosts and people think I’m stupid because of it!”

Jason couldn’t help it. After staring at Danny with slightly wide eyes in shock at the outburst, Jason couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Though part of it was because Tim had just walked into the dining room and nearly dropped his plate of breakfast and cup of juice after also being startled at Danny’s outburst. Danny was about to get cross with Jason for laughing, but only spared him the lecture when he also noticed Tim there.

“Oh- Sorry- I didn’t mean to startle you,” Danny apologized quickly.

Tim just sighed, grateful only a little of the juice had spilled onto the floor. “It’s fine, just give me your napkin,” he directed, setting his breakfast on the table and reaching out for the requested object. Once he had it, wiping up the spilled juice was a quick task, and he was sinking into the chair next to Danny with another sigh. “You’re not stupid, by the way. If you really need the academic records for the job you want, just test out. I’m sure you’ll be fine, and get flying colors. I can get you a study packet if you want,” he commented casually, taking a large bite out of a sausage.

Not only was the comment unexpected, but it also sounded like a flat out lie from someone who had no idea what it was like to struggle at school. “...Yeah, sure. I’ll get right on that,” Danny scoffed sarcastically, going back to nibble on his toast.

“Danny…,” Jazz hushed gently, sympathetic and immediately ready to comfort him.

“I’m serious,” Tim enforced before she could say more. “Well, I dunno how you are with english or something like that, but you’ve got great math and science aptitude.”

Danny just stared at Tim incredulously, not buying it.

So Tim threw a hand in the air and rolled his eyes. “You just recreated a complex concept schematic from memory within a 90 to 95% accuracy range on the measurements and functions, while high on morphine and fever,” he pointed out. “Also, if you’re any good at being a vigilante like everyone has been implying, you’ve got to have great problem solving skills. And that’s hard to teach.”

Danny was now openly staring in surprise, because he hadn’t realized he’d done anything that Tim said. At least, not when phrased in that manner. It wasn’t like he could discredit Tim’s words either, they had all been there as he’d drawn the schematic. “I…” He should probably say something, but he couldn’t think of a single response other than to stare blankly in surprise at the table in front of him.

It caused Tim to sigh again, slumping into his hand and rubbing his brow. “Honestly, if there’s anything you’re dumb in it’s self awareness. I’d switch out a dozen of the interns in engineering for you in a heartbeat.”

Okay, so maybe Tim wasn’t actually pulling his leg, or trying to prank him. If Danny’s cheeks weren’t already red from illness they would definitely be from embarrassment as he shyly sank down in his chair.

Jason laughing that hard wasn’t helping either.

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Okay I'm gonna fully admit this chapter was unplanned and full of stuff I actually didn't think I'd get to include 'cause I just could not figure out how to naturally include them in conversation in the previous chapter or any future scenes I could think of at the moment. But then I started working on this next chapter and within the first paragraph was like '......oh..... oh it all fits rather nicely right here actually. |DDD'

So that was fun XD

And then this took awhile to actually post because I hyper fixated and wrote about 11,000 words for this fic of just scattered, disconnected scenes for future chapters all the way to about the end @ v @ I'm excited.

In other topics, I had a request/question if Conner Kent would show up, and I wouldn't mind giving him a cameo, but I am very confused about what his personality is like. 8'DD Can someone info dump on me about him and his relationship with other characters? There's one that had a black t shirt with the superman symbol and he's like this angsty angry guy that I honestly don't find all that interesting and would be hard to write. But then there's this flashy leather jacket flirty boy with a different flavor of angst and fun that I find a little more interesting. But I'm curious what the DPxDC fandom seems to favor more. Are Conner and Clark dad and son relationship? Does Conner get along with Jon? He's friends with Bart, Tim and Cassie yeah? Feel free to link me to google docs, or recommend movies or comics to me |D This boy is a little harder for me to figure out than the other characters.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[theonlymanny]

Male reader x Bruce Wayne pt.2

Sneak peak

Pt.1 ⬆️

_______________________

It’s almost bent a year since you killed the joker. You thought Bruce would’ve understood you but he didn’t. Apparently people like the Joker deserve another opportunity. You felt anger at his words. “Do you think I fucking care!?” Dick, Bruce and Tim were shocked at your response. You were so calm even if you were angry. “HE KILLED MY SON! HE FUCKING DESERVES TO ROT IN HELL!” You couldn’t even care if you divorced Bruce after all he was defending the guy who killed Jason. “I’m sorry M/n, you leave me no choice” Bruce handcuffed you “Don’t you dare to touch me!” He knocked you out with a punch. “Wow what are you doing!” Dick quickly asked “he needs help. I’ll take him to a psychiatric center.” “Wait what!? You can’t do that!” “He is not mentally stable he needs help” Dick snarled at those words “So your telling me saving your son and killing a KILLER who murdered more then I don’t no how many people is bad!? Bruce he literally did something you couldn’t do in all your years of being Batman!” Bruce barely paid any attention to Dick. Once he put you in the Batmobile he left. “Don’t leave me here Bruce!”

After a year in the center which you spend trying to study and finding out a way to get out. Usually Bruce and the kids would show up and watch you. Because obviously as them being civilians they couldn’t get any closer. Not like they came together oh no, Dick never talked to Bruce unless necessary. Tim stayed by Dicks side, it hurt him seeing you like this.

“He doesn’t speak to anyone, and he seems tired everyday we don’t know what’s going on Mr Wayne.” “Well find anything! If there is something wrong with him solve it!” Bruce stoped being the playboy he was before. He started being more reckless against other people. He tried to talk to Dick and Tim but they ignored him.

You were alone again. That’s how you preferred it being left alone. Suddenly you heard gunshots and people screaming. The door that was I front of you cracked open showing a man in a jacket with a red mask. “Let’s get out of here” “who are you?” The guy thought for a bit before saying something. “I’m red hood”

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Hey so this is a short part of the Batdad x Bruce Wayne pt.2. I’m doing this at 1:23 am so it might have some errors.

Anyway yall pt.2 will be coming soon! Hope you all will like it. Now to sleep

Bye

[babyfoxflower]

I had an idea, Alastor having strange feelings around Angel Doe! reader, the reader would be an angel, sent from heaven later to help at the hotel, perhaps reader because she is an angel she is very innocent and does not see or understand why alastor acts strange around her

My Angel

Alastor x Fem! Angel Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Murder, Jealousy, Possessiveness, No Smut (just cuz the requester didn’t ask for it)

It had been three months since Heaven sent you to help at the Hazbin Hotel, and Alastor for one could not stand it. It wasn’t that he hated or even remotely disliked you. You were a perfectly pleasant girl. A sweet little doe.

You never bothered him with stupid questions. You respected his boundaries, laughed at his old timey puns, and always greeted him with one of the prettiest smiles he’s ever seen. In fact you smiled a lot, something he appreciated probably more than anyone.

You also had the prettiest eyes, the loviest hair, the sweetest face, big adorable fluffy ears, and whenever he saw your fluffy little tail—he wanted to gently tug on it just to hear you bleat.

You radiated beauty and grace, and were beacon of warmth and comfort. Everything about you was perfect. You were a creature of God, never touched by evil or impurity. There wasn’t a single mean bone in your body.

What he couldn’t stand was this strange feeling he felt around you. It was as if he had butterflies in his stomach and his dead heart would beat faster, even occasionally skipping a beat.

What was more annoying was that you seemed completely oblivious to the what you were doing to him. At first, he thought that this was some kind of effect that angels had on others. However when he asked the others about it, none of them felt the same way he did around you.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” Vaggie said.

“Ahahaha! That’s a good one, my dear!” He laughed.

“Hey, I wouldn’t believe it either. But what you’re describing is what it feels like to be in love.”

In love? Was he really in love with you?

Sure, he felt extremely jealous whenever anyone else was taking up your time. Sure, he felt that you should only be by his side. Sure, he murdered a few sinners who were staring at you when the two of you went out for walks together. Sure, there was a time when an especially lowly wretch had the gall to ask you, the most gorgeous lady to ever live, on a date and Alastor ripped the man in half with his bare hands when you were distracted. And sure, he had frequent dreams about you where he would press you up against a wall and…

“Hmm, perhaps what that angry little woman said was true…I’m in love.”

———————————————————————

“Y/n, my dear, may I speak with you?”

“Of course!” You flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Alastor led you away to a corner where you two could have privacy. 

“What is it, Al? You look nervous.”

“Y/n, I…You’re making this more difficult by batting your lovely doe eyes at me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you frowned.

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. Damn it! Why is this so hard to tell you!?” He exclaimed.

“I find it easier to just blurt out whatever you need to say,” you replied.

“You’re right. I’ll just say it! I love you.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “Pardon?”

“I love you, Y/n. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. You’re constantly on my mind, even in my dreams. I love you so much that I can’t breathe when you’re not by my side. When you walk away, I miss you even before you are out of sight. I love you.”

“You mean more than a friend, right?”

Alastor sighed, “Way more than a friend, my darling doe.”

Suddenly that smile that he loved so much returned to your face, “I love you too, my sweet stag! Everything you just said, I feel the exact same way,” you licked his cheek affectionately.

He blushed.

“Oh sorry! I forgot that you used to be human and that humans don’t tend to lick each other.”

“It’s quite alright, my love,” he licked your cheek in the same fashion, “I’m not a human anymore, my doe. I’m your stag.”

Taglist 🏷️: @2dmenforme @xghostnuggsx @alastorthirsty

[ashrayus]

PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

[artiststarme]

Dead or Alive

After Spring Break, no one could find Eddie Munson dead or alive. His Uncle Wayne, the angry mob, even the police couldn’t locate him so everyone assumed he was dead. Some grieved his loss but most celebrated his apparent demise believing it to be what he deserved after killing Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Jason and hurting poor Max Mayfield.

Once the town recovered enough, Wayne bought a headstone for an empty grave and dutifully washed off the new graffiti that appeared each day. The kids of the Party mourned the loss of their idealistic Dungeon Master and disbanded Hellfire Club out of respect to him. And Robin and Steve disappeared to Steve’s empty house to grieve the loss of a friend (or so it seemed).

Because while everyone thought they were grieving and finding support in each other, they were actually caring for Eddie’s wounds and watching gay movies on Steve’s couch. They are junk food, cuddled in front of the TV, and appreciated being alive.

Steve couldn’t be around the party because he was supposed to be broken-hearted but it was the opposite. While he left the Upside Down the most recent time with more scars, both mental and physical, it also gave him everything he’d ever wanted. It took him away from the job he hated, gave him more time to spend with Robin, and it gave him a prospective boyfriend.

He felt bad keeping Eddie a secret away from the kids and his uncle but he had no other choice. Until he and Robin could brainstorm a logical explanation for his innocence and return from the dead, it’d be the three of them in hiding. Which to him, wasn’t a bad thing. Between the love of Robin and Eddie, his house felt less like a crypt and more like a home.

After a few weeks, they’d all gotten used to their solitary. Imagine their surprise when someone walks in on the three of them watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show right on the scene of Rocky showing off his fishnet clad calves. Imagine Officer Phil Callahan’s horror when his eyes landed on an injured homicidal maniac sitting half on his brother’s lap while drooling over Tim Curry. And imagine Steve’s mortification when his brother stood unmoving in the doorway of the living room with one hand on his hip and the other held over his open mouth in shock.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK IS EDWARD MUNSON DOING IN OUR PARENT’S LIVING ROOM?!” Phil shrieked, his face going red in barely concealed rage.

Steve, Eddie, and Robin all spoke at once.

“Is he? Oh my goodness, I didn’t notice. Steve, Eddie is in your house!”

“It’s just Eddie, you piece of shit.”

“Ok technically, I can explain.”

Phil just looked at them like all three of them were insane. “HE’S A KILLER!”

“No he’s not. He’s just a metalhead, Phil.”

“What is that supposed to do with anything, Steve?! I don’t care that he’s a metalhead, I care that he murdered at least three people in a week!”

Steve shot up from his seat so he was nearly eye-level with Phil. “Woah, he did not! I was with him the entire week and neither of us killed anyone.”

Phil just shook his head in confused exhaustion. “Is he dangerous?”

Steve looked him directly in the eye, “no! He didn’t do anything and he’s one of my best friends now.”

“Fine. I’m not dealing with this shit tonight. You,” he pointed at Eddie, “don’t kill anyone. And Steve, do not wake me up before ten AM unless someone is getting killed. Jesus Christ.”

He stomped up the stairs, grumbling under his breath the entire way. Meanwhile, Steve sat back down next to Eddie and gave him a small smile. “Well, that went better than expected.”

Eddie looked at him in disbelief, “did it Steve? Did it?”

(It, in fact, did not. The next morning, Steve had to tackle Phil away from the phone when he tried to call the chief and then had to hold him down while Robin rambled the entire story in an impressive four minutes. He only gave up once Steve threatened to disappear himself and Eddie (and Robin) forever without ever contacting Phil again.)

Should I make this into a longer fic? Let me know in the comments please!

[epiphainie]

I see and love all your tearjerker proposal ideas, but we don’t talk enough about the absolute hilarity that would ensue with an Evan Buckley Proposal™️. Like I’m imagining him being soooo excited about it in the most Buck way possible. He has this ten page speech about how much he loves Tommy and how they’re soulmates and the universe pulled a sick one by putting them on each other’s paths and he’s planning to tell Tommy all that before he pops the question and he’s preparing this big romantic night for it with the most romantic flowers and the most romantic music and the most romantic ring at the most romantic place in all of Los Angeles and he’s roped in everyone at the station to help him, threatened Chim with cold-blooded murder if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut, made Eddie reassure him about every step of his plans not twice but thrice, talked to Bobby with blushing cheeks and fidgeting hands till Bobby gave him his absolute blessing. Hen, Maddie, Athena, they’re all in on it. He’s Ready to do it The Right Way.

Then at like 2pm on a lazy Tuesday afternoon his poor brain that has been overworking on this for weeks gets overloaded and crashes. And suddenly he Needs To Ask Tommy Right Now. Like, just like that the entire plan is overridden, and he doesn’t even process what he’s doing before he sends Eddie a text that just says, “I think I will do it now” and ditches his phone and marches to the garage where Tommy has been working on his truck all day.

The next thing we know Eddie is opening his door to a Buck who has his arms wrapped around himself and his big blue eyes are filled with tears. He looks like a puppy kicked a thousand ways and before Eddie can even open his mouth he cries out, “He said no,” and drops face first on Eddie’s couch. Eddie is like ???? but also “Well, I can’t deal with this shit on my own,” so he calls Hen and Chimney and ten minutes later Buck is sitting on the couch being interrogated by his best friends.

They’re all obviously confused.

Hen, disbelieving, asks, “He said no?”

Buck makes the most pathetic pitiful sound known to the human kind and nods.

Chimney, not really helpful, murmurs, “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” to himself because he knows how much Tommy loves Buck and would say yes to marrying him months, hell, years ago.

Hen, trying to make sense of it all asks, “What did he exactly say?” because Chim is right, it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Buck, still looking like a wet cat, goes, “He said it wasn’t the right thing for us.” His voice hitches and he moans, “He said it wasn’t s-smart.”

Hen and Chim shoot a look at each other. Eddie at this point is getting angry because what the fuck? Which is exactly what he says and Hen, the only one trying to be actually somewhat helpful, shakes her head like, “No, Eddie,” and then to Buck with what she hopes is a reassuring voice says, “Maybe he just doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage?”

Buck looks even more miserable at that and buries his face in his hands as he bemoans “Noooo,” and shakes his head like he’s grieving. “We t-talked about it before. At the beginning of our relationship, we both agreed we’d do that if it felt like the right time.” He slumps back on the couch like his life has just ended. “I t-thought it was the right time.”

Eddie, totally pissed off now because how are you gonna be with a guy for years, move in together, buy a house together, be committed to each other fully, and then say no to his marriage proposal, goes, “Oh fuck him. Do you want me to beat some sense into him?” Because damn, this is his best friend who looks absolutely crushed and Eddie will kick Tommy’s ass, fuck the fact that he’s really good at Muay Thai, he hasn’t seen Eddie’s wrath before.

Hen, still the sound of logic and seeing how Buck gets sadder each passing moment, stops him again. “We’re not beating anyone up.” Then says, “Buck, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Tommy loves you.” Because yeah he does in the most sickening teen boy with a puppy crush way, so none of this makes sense and Hen’s brain is whirring but she’s not sure what’s happening yet. “And you love Tommy.”

Buck, hands covering his face again moans into his palms, “I do.” Then his hands drop, and his face shot with panic and fear he goes, “Wait?! Does this mean we broke up?”

A pissed-off, disbelieving noise leaves Eddie; Chim shoots another look towards Hen’s way; Hen just gives an awkward unsure smile. “No. No.” She tries to reassure him. “Of course not.”

“I mean,” Chim says with a shrug. “I don’t see how a relationship comes back from that, you know?”

This gets Buck start crying again.

“You’re. Not. Being. Helpful. Chim.” Hen mutters.

Eddie jumps up, “Oh, I’m beating him up for you.”

Buck’s wails get louder.

It all devolves from there with Buck going between hollering and sniffling and Eddie dead-set on confronting Tommy and Hen trying to do damage control with “We’re just gonna talk to him,” and Chim continuing to be absolutely unhelpful with his comments about how Tommy is great, and so cool, and perfect, and he’d make a great brother-in-law, and this doesn’t make any sense.

So, the four of them somehow find themselves marching towards the Buckley-Kinard house with Eddie at the helm and Buck looking like a pathetic mess between them. They’ve barely entered the front yard when Tommy bursts out the front door with his phone in his hand and he goes, “Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for hou—”

“I trusted you, man!” Eddie shouts, voice echoing through the street.

Tommy stops in his tracks. He takes in the sight of his friends who are all shooting him deadly (and confused) glares. Then he looks at his boyfriend and finds him avoiding his eyes, keeping his gaze at his feet like all the happiness has been sucked out of his entire universe. Brows furrowing in confusion, Tommy takes a step towards him. “Evan.” He tilts his chin up and sucks in a breath when he sees the tear tracks on Buck’s face. His own face crumbles, now in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Eddie lets out a mirthless laugh. “Pretending you don’t know, huh?”

Tommy looks at him, at Chim, at Hen. “Don’t know what?”

“Oh, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought, Kinard.” Eddie spits in his face, his head shaking. “Acting like nothing’s wrong after saying no to a guy’s proposal so cruelly.”

Tommy freezes. His gaze snaps to Buck with a confused, “What?” but Buck is avoiding his eyes again. “What proposal?” Tommy asks. “Evan didn’t propose to me.”

At this point all tired and beaten Buck sighs, “It’s okay, Tommy.”

“No. No—” Tommy shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

Buck shrugs. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Evan.”

Sighing again, Buck finally looks up. “Look, I get it. We can talk about it later.” He chews at his lip. “Right?” Because he’s still not sure if they’re broken up or not and god he really wishes they’re not because marriage is a dumb institution rooted in patriarchy to maintain and reinforce traditional gender roles and they didn’t even let two men marry till a decade ago, so it’s not like they need anyone’s acknowledgement and all he needs is Tommy, but also he had the absolute perfect ring picked out and he doesn’t know if he can get a refund on it, and calling Tommy his husband would be so fucking nice, and maybe he has been dreaming about that for the past however many years.

At this point, he’s tearing up again, so Tommy cups his face and brushes away some of the tears, before saying with the biggest gentlest eyes, “We can talk about anything you want. But… Baby, what proposal?”

Buck sniffles. “Earlier. W-when I asked you in the garage.”

Tommy frowns harder because that doesn’t make any sense. “You didn’t ask me to marry you, Evan.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy,” Buck huffs.

“No, you asked me if I wanted to take a vacation.”

“I think I know what I asked.”

“You said you wanted to go on a trip!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Okay, you didn’t say trip! You said, you said something like if I wanted to take a new journey with you! Embark on adventure or something. You said you wanted a travel companion for a voyage!”

“Lifelong voyage.” Buck murmurs, lips pursing and arms crossing together. “For our grand adventure together.”

No one says anything for a minute as Buck avoids their eyes and scuffs his feet in the dirt.

At last, as the person with any semblance of intelligence Hen says, “Buck. Did you use any word related to marriage? Like “husband” or “marry” or even “matrimony”?” Her eyebrows rises. “Anything that’s not a metaphor?”

Buck, face red up to the hairline now, just shrugs. “I had a-a speech, okay? I was n-nervous and it was long so I had to paraphrase.”

Finally, Hen sighs, not unkindly.

Chim chuckles, kinda unkindly.

Eddie looks almost as embarrassed as Buck and murmurs, “Sorry, man,” to Tommy as the realization hits it was just his best friend being a huge dumbass and Tommy actually didn’t do anything to deserve a beating.

Tommy, his entire focus on his boyfriend and not paying them any attention, pulls Buck’s arms down and lifts his face up again. He gives him a smile. “I said no because I thought you were asking to go on a trip, Evan,” he says softly. “And that we’ve just got a mortgage together and can’t afford one.” He shakes his head. “I was covered in grease, Pearl Jam was playing in the background, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Still looking abashed but at least not snotty anymore, Buck says, “N-no. No. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Tommy,” he says with a shrug.

Tommy smiles again. “It’s okay, baby.” For a moment, he rubs his boyfriend’s arms up and down, then says, “Sooo…”

Buck, realizing the faint pink on his boyfriend’s face, looks at him with the roundest eyes. “You mean…?”

“Well…” Tommy shrugs. “Are you gonna ask me for real or what?”

The sun dawns on Buck’s face. His eyes go bright with fresh but happier tears. “Yea-yeah.” He nods frantically. “Tommy. W-will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Tommy says. Buck pounces on him with a kiss that gets a surprised moan from him as Hen, Chimney, and Eddie start clapping and Buck cries again and so does Tommy and later that night, Buck gives him the perfect ring he had picked out and come Saturday they actually go to the greatest restaurant in LA and Tommy listens as Buck explains every step of his original proposal and all the metaphors he’s curated carefully for his speech.

The end.

[sophswritingthings]

Jealous mizu, or possessive mizu please. 🥺😭🫶.

pairing: possessive/protective!mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): mizu tries to do murder again but this time is reprimanded for her attempt, swearing

a/n: oh gladly, anon- don’t have to ask me twice

word count: 445 words / 2,376 characters 

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

you and mizu walk down the streets, looking for a certain brothel along these roads. madam kaji’s for the peculiar.

mizu’s hand is tight around your waist, as it always is. ready to spring on anyone who dare try to touch you. and you knew she would, sometimes she’d come home soaked in blood that wasn’t her own. a lot of the time, actually, now that you thought about it.

and at this point; you didn’t dare try and fight it off. plus, her touch kept you warm in the cold winter.

sliding into the brothel where your lover demanded to see the madam, you began getting..

.. looks.

the other men in the brothel, even if being tended to by other women, had their eyes on you. the sight made you uncomfortable, squeezing just a bit closer to mizu’s side.

she noticed this, while walking into the back of the brothel.

and when she noticed it.. you could see her expression devolve into pure anger.

never did she wear that expression around you; her face would always be something of soft when around you. it was the first time you’d seen such an angry expression in a while.

“.. excuse me,” her raspy voice rang throughout the brothel. “eyes up. she’s taken.”

a gentle blush devolves on your cheeks, adverting you’re gaze with the tiniest of smiles.

It’s silent. very quiet.

“I’m sure a samurai such as yourself wouldn’t mind sharing,” one voice calls out.

“sharing what? you talk about her like she’s a meal,” she scoffs, letting go of your body and strolling toward the man. you watched as she went, a bit concerned as to what she was going to do. 

you see her hand go to her sword.

“mizu!” you call out, eyes narrowed, “no.”

her eyes narrow, as if your words were not going to stop her. but she sighs, giving into your wishes and walking back over to you. her arm wraps around your waist again, dragging you away from the main room. 

you sit, nestled in the corner.

you laugh a little, “you can’t kill every guy that as much as looks at me, mizu.”

she raised an eyebrow, “I can’t?”

you actually couldn’t tell if she was asking genuinely or not.

“no—you can’t,” you shook your head. “that’s a lot of people.”

she scoffs playfully, “oh, it is?” she placed a little kiss on your head, “you’re too pretty not to look at, then?”

you giggle, “exactly,” you smile up at her.

she sighs, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, her arm still around your waist as you waited for the madam.

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

[loomiseater]

Lose end

warnings: slight smut!, fem!reader, pet names: princess/baby, killing, mentions of killing, and blood.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

A/N: first post of December!! I'm getting back into the habit of posting more!

Billy Loomis x fem!reader

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Written: December 1st, 2024

Published: December 1st, 2024

Summary: You want to kill again, chase after that high you got when you first did it..but what happens if Billy wants to take it too far?

wc: 2,804

“Yes! Fuck, Billy, I’m cumming!” I moaned as Billy gave me one last thrust before cumming inside me. “I love being inside this pretty pussy.” He whispered in my ear before pulling out and falling back down on the bed. I rolled over and laid on his chest as he wrapped me in his arms.

As I was laid in his arms there was a comforting silence. We had just got done with at least an hour of sex and the room was filled with Billy’s and I’s heavy breathing. I then finally decided to speak up.

“Billy?” “Yes?”

“I’ve been having those dark thoughts again.” I stated. Billy corked his eyebrow at me. “Yeah? What are they?” He asked me softly. “I want to kill again…that one kill wasn’t enough for me, I need the adrenaline again of the first kill!” I answered.

He nodded his head in agreement with me and I was relieved. Billy’s approval is the only thing that matters to me. “I’ve been thinking about that too, Maureen Prescott wasn’t enough…we need to kill Sidney too.” Billy said as he was deep in thought.

My eyes widened at his sentence. Why Sidney? We can kill random people off the street, nor our friend. And besides Maureen deserved it, she destroyed two families. “Why? She had nothing to do with what her mom did.” I said back.

Billy scoffed before responding. His face didn’t have that soft look anymore, he looked angry, hurt even.

“I don’t care if she didn’t have anything to do with it! That whole family needs to die. Her dad included.” The words spat out of his mouth with much hate.

It’s been a year-well, a year in 3 days that me, Billy, and Stu, killed Sids mother. When Billy first came to me with the idea I was disgusted with him, hell- I almost left him. But he’s my boyfriend and I hated seeing him depressed after his mother left, which was a result from Maureen.

She had to die. Kill the root of the problem.

I slowly nodded my head before answering to what Billy had just said. “Okay. Sidney has to go..her dad too.” It hurt me so much to say that. I’m going to kill my best friend since grade school.

“How do you think Stu will react once we tell him this? You know he likes Sidney, he’s obsessed with her!” Billy laughed at my response, shaking his head. “He never had a chance with her anyways, and besides, I might have to kill him too.” Billy said as he got up and grabbed his boxers.

My heart dropped. Kill Stu? He didn’t do anything. I looked at Billy with a hurt expression. How could he want to kill his best friend?

“You’re not killing Stu!” I tried to be confident but my voice cracked a bit.

“What? You like him or something?” He teasingly said but there was some jealously hidden behind those words. “Yes, I like Stu, as a friend. He’s our friend! You can’t just murder him, especially after all he’s done to help us! If anyone else should be dying right now it should be your mother! She’s the one who left without even-“ before I could finish Billy grabbed my throat tightly, squeezing it a bit.

“Keep my mothers name out your mouth!” He spat. It was as if this was a completely different Billy. He had that serious, crazy, dark look in his eyes too.

I nodded my head receptively hoping that he would let go soon enough but his grip only got tighter. He came face to face with me, his lips almost touching mines while his hand was still wrapped around my throat.

“I’m killing Stu. Thats final, we don’t need any loose ends, okay, princess?” His features now softened as he looked into my eyes, seeing the fear in them.

I nodded my head yes in response as he then kissed me. Nice and slow like he usually does.

2 days later…

Our plan was in motion now. Stu was gonna have the party later on tonight and we’re gonna kill Sidney at midnight. After Sidney dies along with her dad, Billy kills Stu, then me and Billy call the cops and tell them that the killer attacked us.

But before all that happens, Billy needs to kill Principal HImbry so everyone can leave.

The school day was now over- well, cut early due to the new curfew set in place from Caesy Becker being gutted open from Billy and Stu. I didn’t help out with that murder, I was just the getaway driver.

Sidney, Tatum, and I were now leaving the school building about to walk home until Stu came up from behind and thew Tatum over his shoulder.

“You girls are gonna bring the snacks! And please don’t get that gluten free, vegan, healthy shit. Yes, I’m talking to you, Sid!” He teasingly said as he pointed to her. I couldn’t help but laugh at his little comment.

I looked at the three of them, trying to savor this sweet moment. This was my last day with them- except Tatum. It’s just gonna be me, her, and Billy for now on. My heart ached at just the thought of Sidney and Stu being gone.

Stu eventually went his separate way while me, Sid, and Tatum walked over to the nearest store. When we got there we noticed Dewey and the Sheriff standing outside talking to each other.

I love Dewey, he likes the older brother I never had. If he ever found out what I was doing he would be heartbroken, disgusted at my actions.

He walked over to the three of us, him speaking first. “What’re you girls doing here? Curfew should be starting soon.” He said with a hint of concern in his voice. “Stu’s throwing a party, so we can left of some steam. We could all use a little bit of happiness right now..especially with the murders going on.” Tatum explained.

“Alright, I mean I guess you guys could go, but I’m driving you guys there.” He said with a faint smile on his face. Before me and Sidney could thank him, Tatum spoke up.

“We weren’t asking for your permission to go, dumbass! But thanks for the ride!” Dewey didn’t even bother responding to her, he was amused, laughed even.

We now headed into the store grabbing snacks for the party. The snacks consisted of chips, ice creams, soda, and cookies.

At the party…

“Hey! You guys made it!” Stu greeted us as he gave Tatum a kiss. Sidney and I walked off to the living room while Tatum stayed back with Stu. We sat down on the couch and all I could think about was our plan for tonight.

I was going to kill my best friend tonight.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been unusually quiet today..” Sidney asked. “Yeah! Just um- I’m on my period. You know..cramps and stuff.” I nodded. I tried to come off normal but I only sounded awkward, nervous even.

She didn’t question it, not wanting to push me even more so she changed the subject. “So, how’re you and Billy doing?” She asked with a little smile. “We’ve been good, ya know? Our communication has definitely gotten better!” My voice was coated with cheerfulness. I was being honest, me and Billy were having a rough patch, everyone knows that. But we’re better now.

“Thats good to hear. I’m happy for you Y/n/n.”

“I’m gonna grab a drink, you want anything?” She asked. “No thanks, I’m fine!” I answered. Sid went to go get something to drink while I went to the front door since Billy and Stu were standing over there.

“Is Himbry gone?” I whispered. Billy nodded before answering. “Yup. His body is hanging on the goal post.” He said with a smirk as I just shook my head.

“So..I’m gonna go upstairs and hide our for a bit, make a call so everyone can leave, okay?” “okay.” I answered. Billy placed a kiss on my cheek before going upstairs.

Now it was just me and Stu. I haven’t had the chance to tell him about us killing Sid, he thought we were killing Randy.

Yes, Stu is dating Tatum but he also likes Sid. He confessed that to Billy and I, I never noticed his interactions with Sid until he told us that. But I don’t think Stu necessarily likes Sid..but is more so obsessed with her. And everyone knows Randy likes Sid but she’s the only one who’s oblivious to it, so Stu wants to get rid of that problem.

“Stu?”

“Yes?”

“Theres something I need to tell you..” I softly said as I held his hands. He looked at me strangely but didn’t say anything. “Billy wants to kill Sidney.” I whispered. A tear fell down my eye as the words fell out of my mouth. Stu looked at me with betrayal, hurt. I tried to console him but he hastily snatched his hands from me.

“Stu come back!” My words came out cracked and low. I didn’t wanna draw too much attention to us so I quickly wiped my tears. He didn’t even look back at me, he just kept watching.

There was a knock at the door, I turned around and opened it, assuming it was just another classmate. But it was Dewey and…the news reporter bitch? The hell was she doing her?

“Hey, Y/n/n!” Dewey greeted. “What’re you doing here?” I asked, completely ignoring the bitch on the side of him. I remembered who she was now. She was the woman who constantly reported on Sid’s moms death.

“I just wanted to keep an eye on you guys, make sure theres no murders.” He teasingly said. I dryly laughed at his comment. I soon made my way back over to the couch where Randy and Sid were sitting at.

2 hours later..

I was in the kitchen with Sid..covered in Randy’s blood. I tried to save him, I had no idea that Billy was gonna kill him. But like he said. ‘No lose ends.’

“Are you gonna kill me too?” She asked quietly. I didn’t even have the courage to look Sid in the eye. “ANSWER ME Y/N!” She shouted as tears began sliding down like a waterfall on my face. “I’m sorry! I have to!” I said with an apologetic look on my face. “Why?! Just so you can please Billy and Stu?! You guys killed my mother! Tatum, Dewey, and Randy!” She exclaimed.

“You’re mother deserved it!” I snapped back. Sid’s face turned into a hurt and questioning look. “She destroyed Billy’s family! Caused his mother to leave, and sent Billy into depression! She needed to pay.” I didn’t realize that I became face to face with Sid. “So what? I deserve to pay for my mothers sins?” She asked as she now looked at the ground.

“No. You don’t.” I responded.

She looked up at me with shock covering her face. I was in my own thoughts, thinking about how this would all play out..until I remembered what Billy said.

‘No lose ends.’

If Billy has no problem with taking out Stu, his best friend since day one..whats stopping him from killing me too?

Billy is my lose end.

I pulled out the gun from my back pocket that Billy had handed me after he shot Randy.

“You’re not dying tonight, Sid.” I said to her. She tilted her head in confusion at my comment.

“We’re going to kill Billy and Stu.” I sternly said.

“How? They’re in control of this whole situation. Theres no way we can over power them.” Sid said. She sounded scared. If I was her I would be scared too. You don’t know who you can trust in this situation.

“They’re already wounded from when they were stabbing each other in here earlier. The plan is, you take Stu and I take Billy. Stab your fingers in ALL of his stab wounds, don’t hold back. Bite, slap, punch, hell-gouge his eyes out. Do whatever you need to do to take him out!” I stated.

“How are you gonna take Billy out?” She suspiciously asked. “I guess I’ll just improvise.”

“But I need you to take to the gun. I have a better chance of surviving if I stab him, he could easily flip the gun on me.” I said as I handed Sid the gun. She stuck it in the back of her pants, covering it up with her jean jacket.

Billy and Stu were walking back into the house after moving Dewey and Gale’s body.

“Ready?”

Sid nodded her head in response.

“And why the hell are you not dead yet?” Billy questioned Sid. I hurried and stepped in before he could say anything else.

“Because I was waiting for you, baby! You should be the one who kills her…I mean..it was her mother who ruined your family.” I said while looking up at him with that look I always give when I want something. “You’re right, princess.” He smirked before leaning in to give me a kiss.

Perfect he was vulnerable.

I squeezed and yanked his balls as hard as I could and that was a good enough signal for Sid to attack to Stu.

Billy pulled away looking at me in complete utter shock. “What the hell?!” Before he could react I have him a right hook to the jaw, making him fall back into the ground. From the corner of my eye I could see Sid on top of Stu, pushing her fingers inside his wounds as he screamed out in agony.

Billy stood back up to his feet as he now towered over to me. “You little bitch!” he shouted as he grabbed me by my throat and threw me into the wall.

I screamed out in pain when my back hit the wall. It felt like someone threw a brick at me. Billy then walked over to me and was now straddling over me. “You were the only person who I thought I could trust, but you screwed me over just like everyone else!” He slapped me straight across the face as I winced in pain. Yeah I definitely felt that sting. Hurt like hell.

“You act like you weren’t gonna screw me over! You were gonna kill Stu! So whats stopping you from killing me next!” I said, but my voice was strained- I mean he just choked the shit out of me, threw me against the wall, and backhanded me.

“I’m sorry, princess!” He cried as his body now laid on top. What the hell?

Billy laid his face into my chest and started crying. “You were right..but I have to kill you, baby.” he lowly said into my chest. My eyes widened, I didn’t think he was actually gonna admit it.

He lifted his head from my chest and slowly kissed me for the last time.

This was my chance.

In the middle of our kiss, I slowly pulled out my knife from my back pocket and stabbed him right in his liver.

“AHH!” He screamed out as I then stuck my fingers in his wound.

He screamed even louder, now touching his wound to where I stabbed him. I heard a bang sound but I tuned out. “The gun!” I shouted to Sid.

She tossed the gun towards me and I shot Billy straight into the stomach.

His body fell limp on top of me. His blood was slowly seeping to my shirt. It was sticky, yet cold. I hurried and pushed him off of me, scurrying up off the floor and now running to where Sid was standing.

Stu was dead.

“The t.v. seriously killed him?” I asked in a chuckle as she started laughing. “You said do whatever you need to do.” She laughed as I nodded my head.

We then heard a thud come from the closet. We both turned around, still on high alert. It was Sid’s dad.

“Dad!” She said, relieved at who it was.

She untied him and urged him to call the cops. He called them from the phone in the kitchen as me and Sid walked back into the living room.

It was silent before I spoke up. “I know that you can never forgive me for what happened and I-“ Before I could finish my sentence she hugged me tightly. “You could’ve killed me, but you didn’t.” She said into my neck.

We pulled away from the hug, now looking around at the bodies and the mess.

I saw Stu’s leg twitch a bit, but I didn’t think anything of it, he’s probably still suffocating.

I can’t believe it had to end this way.

[coryosbaby]

Sweet Serial Killer *ੈ✩‧ Young! Gf! Nick Goode x reader (1)

“𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓻

𝓓𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱,

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱! “

Summary: Murders are happening around Camp Nightwing, and you’ll do anything for your best friend Nick.

Warning: mentions of murder & violence, dubious consent, yandere! Nick, possessiveness, obsessive behavior, mentions of pedophilia (NOT by nick), pictures without consent, toxic relationship asf, god complex, male masturbation, oral (m & f recieving), p n v, breeding kink, dumbification, size kink, daddy kink, missionary, riding, the reader is very dependable on Nick, loss of virginity, creampie, marking, squirting, dom! Nick, sub! Reader

Nick isn’t an inherently violent person.

But when he meets you in the summer of ‘76, all of that is thrown out the window.

You’re a camper. And no, you aren’t a child; you’re eighteen years old. Nick is twenty, beginning as his first year as a counselor. At Camp Nightwing, it’s taboo for a counselor and camper to become romantically involved. But Jesus, Nick just can’t help but be so in love when he looks at you. Your cabin is right next to his, and he sees your sweet ass everyday, watches you strut around with him on his off days and have fun. You’ve both grown incredibly close. And if anyone messes with you, they have to deal with him.

And waves of intense rage aren’t new to him. But right now, he has still never been so incredibly angry.

He watches as a camper, some guy named Alex and around your age, torments you; pulls your hair, calls you names, makes fun of your makeup. And it makes his blood boil. You’re so precious, so much of an angel. No one needs to treat you this way. He approaches, quickly breaking it up. On the outside, his demeanor is calm, is safe.

To you, Nick will always be safe.

Alex scurries away quickly when Nick starts murmuring threats through clenched teeth. Tears are running down your face, and Nick brings his arm around your shoulder and guides you to his empty cabin. You bury his face in his neck when you’re both finally alone on his bed. He pulls you away and begins to stroke your tearful face soothingly.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I know. It’s okay, honey. That fuckin’ asshole..” he looks at you with slight concern for a moment. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You sniffle, and shake your head. “He p-pulled my hair, a little bit. But I’m fine.”

If Nick had any previous guilt about his plans for tonight, they’re all gone now.

“Okay..” he smiles, a small laugh leaving his lips as he runs his hands over the outer corners of your eyes.

“You ruined your makeup.”

You frown, worried. “Do I look bad?”

“What? No, not at all.” How could you ever think you look bad? “You look.. you look really pretty, y/n.”

“Oh.” your face flushes, and you smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replies. And then,after that, you lay down on his bed and he reads you your favorite book while you curl up on his left side. It’s one of the things he does to help you feel better, to make you feel even more protected and safe with him.

And then later that night, the first murder at Camp Nightwing takes place.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The next day the talk is all around camp. Alex, the boy that had harassed you the day before, is dead.

You’re in shock. No one has ever died at the camp before; it’s full of teenagers and kids doing arts and crafts, after all. In a situation like this, they should close down the camp. But the death itself was confirmed to be an accident; he had somehow slipped off of a cliff beside the lake that campers weren’t allowed to approach, and had hit his head on the rocky floor below. A counselor had found him that day, and there were rumors that it was incredibly brutal; his head was completely smashed to pieces.

Some people, however, believe it wasn’t an accident. There were rumors that a few campers saw someone in a black robe and a weird mask that resembled that of a ghost. But those were just rumors, for now.

You shove the thought that Alex deserved what he got down into your gut, and decide to feel bad for him.

“I just don’t get it,” you explain to Nick the next day, in the empty art room. “Why would you even go over there? It’s like, the most dangerous spot.”

Nick shrugs as you refer to Alex, as he knots a new bracelet for the third time that day.

“Dunno,” he replies. “Like I said, he was an idiot.”

His tone and the use of the word ‘was’ makes bile rise in your throat, but you change the topic to the task at hand.

If anyone knows you, you’re just a little… dumb. So, Nick helps you with your crafts in your art activities everyday, always teaches you new things because you’re interested and don’t know how. It’s not just in this field, where you depend on him; he helps you with practically everything, even feeds you from time to time. He knows how to take care of you, how to keep you satisfied and happy.

He watches as you struggle to tie a knot in the bracelet that you’re creating, watches as you slam it down onto the table and make a sound of frustration. He chuckles, amused.

“Having fun?”

“Fuck off, Nick.” You snap . You immediately begin to apologize, not meaning to have sounded so rude.

“Im so sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, y/n. It’s okay, I promise.”

He hates when you feel as if you’ve said something wrong around him. You could never anger him.

“It’s just…” you rub your eyes, careful not to destroy your glittery makeup. “I can’t.. I can’t make the bracelet. It’s not working.”

“That’s okay,” Nick assures. “I can teach you. It’s okay, here-“

His fingers move to grab the strings from you, maneuvering the plastic stand it’s attached to so he can gain better access. He looks down at the instructions.

“Yeah, this knot is complicated,” it’s not, but you don’t need to know that. “All you’re doing wrong is not looping it around. If you just..”

He smiles as he grabs your cherry red nails into his larger set of hands. He brings them down and shows you the proper way to tie the bracelet, and you squeal in victory when you’re finally done. It’s a little jagged along a section, but it isn’t too bad.

“See! I knew you could do it. You’re such a quick learner.” Nick praises. You flush.

“Thank you.”

He watches as you tie the ends. And then, you’re nervously looking towards him.

“I want you to have it.. i-if that’s okay!”

Nick beams, happily snatching the bracelet from your hands and slipping it onto his wrist.

“Thank you, angel. I love it.”

He picks up one of the bracelets he made and insists that you wear it too. He ties the ends for you, and slips it around your wrist. You smile. And then, with ease, he brings his lips down to your wrist and places a kiss to it. The nervous lip bite you give him makes his cock harden in his pants, but he chooses to ignore it for now. You smell so sweet, the perfume on your wrists making his eyes practically roll back. It’s so you, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Do you want to go back to my cabin?”

The words make you stutter, knowing that the cabin is empty and that everyone is away at another camping activity at the lake. But alas, you utter a quick ‘yes’. When you get inside he guides you to sit down at the head of his bed so he can read to you again. But once he gets through a couple paragraphs of The Great Gatsby, you’re already leaning onto his shoulder sleepily.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Mhm.”

“C’mere.”

He grabs one of your arms and slings it over his chest. You sigh happily, shoving your face into his shirt as he moves down to lay flat on the bed.

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for dinner.”

“Okay, Nicky. Thank you.”

Oh, how precious.

Your soft snores fill the room as you sleep. Time ticks by, but Nick can’t seem to keep still as much as he wants to. So, gently, he removes himself from underneath you and pulls his blanket over your shoulders as you turn over in your sleep. He watches as your tits seem to practically spill out of your tank top. His breath catches in his throat. It’s not that noticeable because it’s on your lower side, but your nipple has seemed to slip out of the fabric.

The thing he does next is probably incredibly wrong. But who can blame him, with you looking like that?

His hands go down to palm the bulge in his pants. He breathes heavily, lip getting caught in his teeth as he watches your slow moving breath and beautiful face. He brings his hands into his pants and begins to stroke himself with vigor.

He knows it’s incredibly risky. You’re his best friend, and if he gets caught doing this you might not be anymore. But precum spills over his fist and he thrusts into his own palm mercilessly. He starts to imagine scenarios with you in them: taking your tits into his mouth, sucking on those pert little nipples that he loves to see peeking through your shirt. Fucking that tight little pussy he knows you have, while you’re on all fours and your ass is bouncing back against his abs. And then, lastly, watching your little cunt get stretched beyond its boundaries as he impales you, your virgin blood coating his cock and leaving your creamy spend on him. This makes him keen, and then he’s stuffing his fist into his mouth as he cums all over the inside of his briefs. You begin to stir, not quite waking up, but it makes Nick’s mouth water even more at the thought of you catching him. You don’t wake up, however. You’re always such a deep sleeper.

Nick sighs, moving into the bathroom to wash off his hands and then change into a new pair of underwear.

And then, when he’s next to his dress, he catches sight of his camera.

It’s a Polaroid camera, a dark brown that he keeps with him whenever he wants to take picture of the camp’s scenery.

But maybe it can be used for other sights.

He remembers to turn the flash off, and then he snaps a picture of your sleeping form. And then, another. And another. And another. All at different angles, some far away, some so close that it’s a surprise that you don’t hear the click of the device and wake up. When he’s done he gathers up all of the pictures that have been printed and shoves them into his drawer full of shirts, next to another set of pictures. Ones that consist of a boy in water, with his head missing.

He checks on the clock on the wall. It’s dinner time, now.

He goes over and lightly shakes you. It takes a few minutes of this before your eyes finally crack open.

“C’mon, sweets, you gotta wake up,” he murmurs. “It’s time for dinner.”

You blink, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and smearing your makeup in the process again. But when you get up and look in the mirror, you choose not to acknowledge it.

You don’t even notice the anxious look Nick gives you when you ask for some of his clothes and reach into his t-shirt drawer. He’s so thankful that he hid the photos in the very back, because you don’t find them.

He makes a mental note to move them to a place where no one would think to look.

 ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The next day Tommy Slater teaches you archery.

You’ve see the boy around, not really ever talking, but he’s sweet, with nice hair and a pretty smile. He holds your arms in the right position as he helps you pull back the strings of the bow. When you pull it back, it’s the first time ever that you hit the target. You pull him into a hug, and his hands go down to your waist as he asks if he can buy you a cherry coke from the vending machines.

Nick watches the whole thing with displeasure when you say yes.

No one really notices, but Nick just always seems to be around you, even though there’s a whole other side of camp to be taught. It’s a surprise, really, that the boy can keep his job. If it wasn’t for the extra class he teaches everyday and his father being the sheriff, he’d probably be fired.

Nick really hasn’t had that much of a problem with Tommy before. He’s a nice guy, and they get along well whenever they work together. Hell, Tommy was even his bunkmate for a while before he decided to switch and room with his brother, Will.

But he’s talking to you. And he’s being a little too nice, too touchy to see you as a regular camper or friend.

And Nick can’t have that, can he?

So a week later, after you had started to grow close with the boy, Tommy Slater is found with a noose around his neck. A suicide, of course. It’s incredibly unfortunate for you; you cry about it, not leaving your cabin all day over the death of your new friend when you find out the news.

Of course, Nick is there to comfort you. He doesn’t leave your side, and stays with you for the entirety of the day while you sleep on top of his shirtless, warm body.

He’s such a good friend.

You sigh as you roll yourself out of your bed. You’re exhausted, mentally. Nick had begged you to come to dinner with him, but to no avail after many minutes of struggling. You figure right about now that the best thing to do is your makeup. Something that sounds incredibly stupid, but it helps you relieve a lot of stress. You bring yourself back over to your bed with your makeup bag and begin to apply a full face.

You jump, almost smearing your eyeliner, when Nick opens the door. Although you shouldn’t get excited at a time like this, you smile when you see an ice cream cone in one of his hands.

“Finally getting up?” He teases. You nod.

“I guess so. No use getting hung up, right? We..” you’re trying to seem positive, but the image of Tommy’s body hanging from the ceiling brings bile to your throat. You swallow it down as you apply a layer of blush and grab the ice cream cone from Nick. “Me and Tommy weren’t even that close.”

Nick shrugs, sitting down beside you and resting his head on your shoulder to watch you apply your mascara.

“He’s in a better place now, y/n.” The boy assures.

You nod in agreement, but you’re still a bit upset. You shake the thoughts out of your head and lick at the ice cream cone. Nick watches some it drip down your chin, and he imagines what it would be like to stuff your mouth full.

“So,” He starts. His eyes never leave your mouth. “Are you going on the camping trip tonight?”

Every Saturday, campers go deeper into the woods and camp out. You know Nick enjoys it, but the thought of sleeping in a tent with no air conditioner tonight does not sound like fun.

“Probably not.” You reply.

“That’s okay.” Nick assures. He can tell by the look on your face that you feel bad for ditching him. “On second thought, how about I stay here with you tonight? I know you don’t like to be in the dark alone.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of the dark, I’m scared of what’s in the dark! But also, won’t you get in trouble?”

“Whatever you say, sweetness.” Nick replies. “But I’m staying. I’ll just say I’m sick. ”

“That’s…good. I want you here.” And it’s true, as you utter the words. Nick smiles, and watches as you get up to throw away the ice cream cone (one of your weird quirks that Nick has picked up is that you only like the ice cream itself, and not the cone). When you bend down to drop it into the trash can, your shorts ride up and the soft globes of your ass are exposed. Nick exhales sharply.

You hear him, and turn around to look at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

Nick coughs, eyes averting from you as his cheeks glaze over into a dusty pink. “Yeah! It’s just a little stuffy in here, that’s all.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Do you want to go to your cabin instead? You have a better air conditioner, anyway.” And then your eyes light up. “And you have a radio! We can listen to music tonight!”

Nick chuckles at your excitement. He knows you enjoy music. “Yeah, honey.”

“Yay!”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It’s not long before almost everyone in camp is away, and you and Nick are alone. Although the trip is optional, very few people decide to stay behind. Will had left, his eyes lingering on you a bit too long as he tells Nick to ‘have fun’. Nick’s eyes had narrowed at his tone, and he had put a possessive grip on you as he guided you to his radio so he could teach you how to use it.

And that night, Nick introduces you to weed.

It’s not something you’re opposed to, you’ve just never got around to it. And when Nick pulls out a small bag of the skunk smelling drug, you’re happy to get high with him.

You giggle as Nick runs his fingers over your legs in a teasing manner. He knows your ticklish behind your knees, and of course he isn’t going to ignore the chance of getting to touch you. His radio plays ‘Fear The Reaper’ in a blaring tone, and the both of your eyes are red rimmed and watery. You move away from his hands and off to bed to explore the things in his room, dazed.

And then you catch sight of his camera.

You pick it up, and feel the plastic device with your fingertips.

“I’ve never seen you with this,” you say. “Is it new?”

Nick lifts his body up off of the bed to look at you.

“No, I’ve had it for a while.” He replies.

“Oh.” and then, your hands begin to flimsily play with the buttons.

Nick grins. “Do you want me to take pictures of you?”

The question catches you off guard, but the look on his face, begging, can’t make you say no.

“If you want.”

“That’s great,” Nick pauses, hesitant. “Can you get on the bed for me?”

“Yes sir.”

You don’t mean to say it, really, but you just want to follow his directions. You think he’s going to be freaked out, but all he does is give you a sweet smile.

“Good girl.”

Your face flushes, and your twiddle your fingers as you begin to climb onto the bed. You move your hair so it rests behind your shoulders, and smile. Nick snaps it, the perfect view of you on your knees for him. You move to another position, sideways, and tilt your head back.

So cute, Nick thinks. And all mine.

By the third or fourth, you’re comfortable enough to not be shy.

“Is this good?” You ask. You’re leaning forward now, on your knees once again. Nick can see your cleavage at this angle, and he thinks you’re the most sexiest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Perfect.” And then, another pause before he speaks. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blanch, as if that’s the first time he’s ever said it. You look up at him with a look he can’t quite place.

“Do you really think so?”

“I think you’re perfect.”

Dazed and Confused by Led Zepplin is playing on the radio now. The tension in the room grows intensely, in this moment, as Nick utters the words. It’s as if it’s never been experienced before. It has, many times, but usually there was someone or something to interrupt that tension.

So now, all that Nick can think to do is throw the camera onto the bed, move over to you, lean down, and press his lips to yours.

It’s probably a dumb idea, but if it goes the opposite of the way Nick wants then he can just blame it on the mary jane in his system.

But you kiss back. The boy suspects you’ve never been kissed before, because your lips move awkwardly against his. It’s endearing to him, and he moves to press himself closer to you. You moan against him when he begins to climb on top of you. He pulls away, his thighs caging your hips down. He grabs your hands and moves them above your head.

“You’ve never done this before , have you?”

You look away shyly, shaking your head as you do so to signal the word ‘no’. He grabs your face with his strong hands and guides you too gaze at him again.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, y/n. Yes.. or no?”

Your lip gets caught in between your teeth as he looks down at you hungrily.

“No.” You utter softly.

He tuts, bring his hand down to your hip and rubbing the soft skin there.

“So no one’s ever touched you here? Hm?”

You shake your head.

“Poor baby.” His hand moves down further. He’s ghosting his fingers over the crotch of your shorts. You squirm, a small squeak leaving your mouth when he presses on your clit through the fabric. “What about here, baby? Anyone ever played with this little clit before?”

“N-Nick, c’mon-“

“Who? Are you lying to me? Has someone touched you here?” His tone is demanding, now, angry. You look up at him with wide eyes. He’s always been so gentle with you, and his attitude now shock you.

“No..” and then, softly, “no sir. I promise.”

He calms, a small smirk beginning to play on his lips. He rubs, gentle and slow, on your clit. You mewl, hands going up to his hair for leverage as he teases you.

“Such good manners. Being such a good girl.”

His fingers leave you. You whine in protest, beginning to grab his hand and put it back where it was, but he pushes your grip away. He chuckles.

“No, no. You’re going to do something for me first.”

Your face goes red, when he grabs your hand and presses it against his girth.

“You feel that, baby?” He’s taunting, watching as your mouth opens on instinct and your soft wet tongue lolls out. “Feel what you did?”

“Yes. Yes, daddy, I-“

The word that leaves your mouth isn’t intentional, but when it does it has Nick groaning, thrusting his hips up into your hand.

“God, that’s it. You want me to be your daddy, baby? Wanna be my little girl?”

You nod, eagerly, and you begin to move to unbuckle his jeans. He makes a noise of disapproval, though.

“No. Stay right here.”

And then he’s moving off the bed and to the foot of it, beginning to unbuckle his belt. He beckons you over, but stops you when you begin to get off the bed.

“No,” His hand goes down into his pants, and he breathes shakily.

“Crawl.”

Your pussy is practically drenched at this point. A small moan sounds in the back of your throat, and you get on your hands and knees. The look Nick gives you as you move towards him is so dark that you aren’t sure it’s even him anymore. But fuck, he looks so handsome, so beautiful. You can’t help but do what he says.

You’ll do anything for him.

He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you up on your knees at the edge of the bed. His shirt has ridden up, exposing a sliver of his tanned and toned skin.

“What do you want me to do now, daddy?” The words you’re saying sound so unlike yourself, but it’s like something different has taken over you. All you can think or feel is NickNickNickNickNick. Over and over, your pussy throbbing and spilling wet juices all over the inside of your panties.

“Take your shirt off, sweetheart.”

The demand is one you follow instantly, and when you slip the shirt over your head your nipples are puffy and swollen. He grins, moving down to flick one of your nipples.

“These are so pretty. We should get them pierced, don’t you think?”

The thought of needles going through your tits make you wince. Nick laughs.

“I was just joking, angel.”

“We have to have those nice and ready for our baby, don’t we?”

Your eyes widen, and he laughs again, as if pregnancy is some kind of game.

“Joking, again. God, you’re so gullible, you know that?”

You really don’t think you’d mind carrying his baby, but you don’t mention that right now. Instead, you bring your hands to the bulge in his pants. He groans in surprise, and looks down at you.

“You little minx. Get to work, then. Since you want to be so impatient.”

You hesitate, not really knowing what to do.

“Can you teach me, sir?”

He presses your mouth to his clothed cock, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You drool all over the fabric of his jeans, the confines of the zipper making his incredibly large cock press against the denim.

“Gotta taste it first, don’t you?” He teases. He yanks you away from his dick and pulls your head back so you’ll look up at him.

“Give me a kiss.”

You do, reaching up desperately to kiss him on his soft, sweet lips. He strokes your face, gentle unlike the past few minutes.

“Do you feel safe with me?”

You nod, and he nods his head in understanding at the confirmation.

He begins to unzip his fly. And then, you watch as he pulls out his thick length. You gawk at how pretty and large he is, his tip shining with precum and his balls drawn up tight.

“Do you trust me?”

His voice is rougher now. He strokes his cock, and you ache for it to feel the deep canal of your throat.

“Yes, daddy. You’re the only person in the world I’ll ever trust.”

“Good. You only need me.”

And then he’s rubbing the tip over your lips, and you’re eagerly suckling the soft skin and licking the precum off. He tastes so good, so salty and bitter but so perfectly divine. He growls low in his throat, holding back as much as he can so he doesn’t destroy your perfect little mouth.

“Yeah, just like that. Didn’t even have to tell you where to put that slutty mouth. You think about this a lot, don’t you?”

You nod, as much as you can with your mouth full.

“Run your tongue along the vein.” He directs, watching as you pull off and ask him what to do next. “You see, right there?”

You follow his directions perfectly, following the trail and then moving to kitten lick underneath his head. His eyes roll back, and he shallowly thrusts into your throat. You become desperate, then, and before he realizes what’s happening your downing his whole aching prick in one singular stroke.

“Oh, fuck, you bitch!” He’s loud, and his resolve breaks. He grabs your head with both of his hands and begins to fuck your throat with vigor. You choke, your eyes watering, but you don’t want him to let up. Looking up at him through watery lashes, you see that his had is tilted back and his mouth is open in shock and pleasure.

“I can feel the back of your goddamn throat, Jesus fuck..”

He slows, just a bit, when he sees you struggling to breathe.

“Remember to breathe through your nose, sweetness.”

His advice helps you, and soon you’re relaxed as he uses your throat. Your hands grip his thighs, and on a particularly deep thrust your nose hits the curly black hair at his base. It’s amazing, how much you can take.

Not that Nick has been with many girls, but he’s been with a few. And all of them could hardly take his cock inside their cunt, much less their throat. Nick giggles at the irony, then, sadistically. Of course you can take it. You’re made for him. And he’s your god, a life force that you’re devoted to, that you can’t ever escape.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Nick says roughly. “ My good little cocksucker.”

That sets you off, and your fingers begin to go down and rub your clit. It doesn’t take long before Nick is pulling you off and pushing you back down on the bed. He grabs you by your thighs and begins to unbuttons your shorts aggressively. When he gets down to your underwear he’s pulling them off with a quickness and shoving them into his back pocket.

You really should be shy right now, but you aren’t. It’s just that way with Nick. You can do anything, show him anything, and you’ll still feel like the most free person to ever exist. He spreads your legs wide, and he doesn’t hesitate to go down and get a taste of you.

He licks a stripe up the expanse of your drenched pussy, makes sure to add a little bit of tongue when he gets to your clit. He thumbs the swollen button, plays with it like it’s a toy. Your back arches, his touch setting flames off on your skin and inside of you.

“Nicky, please..”

Your voice is raw from getting so harshly throat fucked, your eyes droopy and already fucked out from all the foreplay. He says nothing, instead choosing to gather up some of the precum from his cock and use two now lubed fingers to shove inside of you. Your hips soar off the mattress, the sudden stretch burning intensely, but not as much as you would’ve originally thought. You’re so wet that you’re really up for anything, at this point. You flush with embarrassment when you hear your wetness gushing around Nick’s fingers. But he looks pleased, intensely so, and bends down to press a little kiss to your clit.

“Aww, look at that,” he coos. “You’re so wet, aren’t you? Did daddy make you this wet?”

“Yesyesyesyes-“ you practically scream when he rubs your inner walls a certain way, and it makes your legs shake and makes tears stream down your cheeks. “please keep doing that, daddy. Oh my God!

You can feel your orgasm approaching, and it’s embarrassing that you’re cumming this soon. But you’re a virgin, after all. You can’t help it. And so, with a sharp intake of breath and a moan, you cum all over Nick’s fingers. He watches as your juices coat his entire hand and shirt as your legs start to convulse in pleasure. He smiles, satisfied. You just squirted all over him.

“There you go.. just like that. Good girl. Give me all of that, baby.”

When you come down it’s like you’re wiped of energy. Nick notices. His hand goes up to stroke your face.

“You have to give me one more, okay? Just one.”

You shake your head, eyes going closed, but he slaps your cheek lightly to keep you awake.

“Still need fuck you, honey. I want you to be awake when I do it. Want you to remember.”

You bite your lip, hesitant, but then you nod. He smiles, and your heart flutters as you look down at him in between your legs.

“That’s my girl.”

He adjusts your thighs, pulling your spent body towards him. His cock nudges against your entrance. It’s different from what you’ve just experienced, much more intimate and warm. So he guides himself into you, gently. It hurts, and you let out a noise of displeasure. You start to cry again, but out of pain.

“Daddy- c-can’t, ‘s too much..”

“I know you can take it, sweet girl. Don’t you want to make daddy proud?”

You hiccup, tears flowing freely down your cheeks, and you whisper a small, “yes sir.”

He pushes into you for what seems like forever, and when you finally feel his pelvis pressing against your clit you jump from the stimulation. It causes you to clench down on him, and you cry out at the feeling of him losing control and thrusting into your open canal. He groans, lifting himself up with his hands to keep himself still.

“Don’t do that baby, ‘s gonna hurt you. Fuck, you’re so tiny. My cock is splitting you in two.”

Yeah, you wanted to say, like I warned you it would.

But you don’t say that, and soon his cock just feels like a lot of pressure. So when you tell Nick to move, he tries his hardest to be slow. He’s shaking, the fact of being in control of himself a new phenomenon. But when he drags himself out, slow, and then pushes himself back in, you begin to feel different. He hits that special spot again, just right, and your hips move back on him at their own accord.

“Daddy.. please. Fuck me! want it hard…”

The words spill out of your mouth quickly, your brain going haywire. Nick’s hands become bruising in their grip, and he shoves your hands over your head again and begins to pound you vigorously. Your wetness leaves a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and you look absolutely gorgeous, letting him use you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful little girl.. love having this pussy fucked, don’t you? Making daddy so proud..”

You moan loudly, his praises making more wetness drip out of you.

“Love you, daddy, love you so much!”

Nick’s hips stutter at that, and although it should be a very large milestone to cross, it feels perfectly natural, perfectly true to say, and it makes his head spin. His perfect little girl, worshipping him and his cock. You’re a dream come true.

“Holy fuck.. I love you too, sweetheart.” Your heart aches, so deeply. He loves you. Nick, the boy you’ve been completely devoted to and have worshipped the entire summer, loves you.

You can feel his thrusts speeding up, his hands bruising on your skin. ‘M gonna cum, shit-“

He twitches, flooding your sticky walls with his cum. Your hips shake, your pussy milking him dry.

“Love your cum, sir, feels s’good.” You slur. The fact that you’ve gotten riled up and haven’t came again is in the very back of your mind. Nick’s cock, his body, his devoted time and attention to you, is enough to satiate your needs. When he pulls out of you he makes sure to watch his cum drip out of your needy hole, and then rubs your clit in gentle strokes.

“just give me one more, baby. Cum for daddy one more time.”

And who are you to resist? Shaking, your brain turns to mush. Your tummy tightens and then you’re spilling again, watching as Nick looks down at you with adoration.

When you slow, his hands move up to swipe some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. You smile bashfully, watching as he lays down beside you and beckons you over to him once more. It’s peaceful, resting now in the darkness of his room. The radio is still playing, soft just as before. And when you sleep, you dream of sweet nothings.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

And then two days later, you’re being harassed by the camp’s janitor.

His name is Lloyd, and he’s older, much more so. He’s noticed you around, he says. He wants to get to know you more.

You’re uncomfortable by his offer. He’s a grown man, for christ’s sakes! And not an attractive one, at that, so why would you even attempt such a thing with him?

Of course, Nick isn’t too far behind when Lloyd starts spewing harsh words when you reject him. He pulls you behind him protectively, and begins suggesting that he call his father and tell on him. Lloyd instantly backs off, but his narrowed eyes never leave yours as he walks away.

Later that night, there’s a camp bonfire. You smile as you conversate with Nick while a bag of marshmallows between the two of you. You shove one into your mouth as you discuss Carry by Stephen King, and he agrees that it’s one of the best. Your head rests on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you. Although campers and counselors technically can’t be together, no one around really cares at the moment; they’re all too busy with their own friends to notice. You grab Nick’s hand and suggest that he take you to get more snacks from the cafeteria. He trails behind you, watching your ass bounce in the tiny skirt you’re wearing. It isn’t long before you’re buying a coke and Nick is using every excuse in the book to guide you behind the deserted building and up against the wall.

His lips press gently into your neck in a sloppy, wet kiss. Your coke is forgotten, the soft drink’s bottle sitting on the concrete beside the both of you. You fall into Nick more when he bites down softly on the spot below your ear; he’s only fucked you once, but he knows your body like the back of his hand.

You sigh, your hand grabbing his and discreetly guiding it to that warm spot in between your legs. He huffs out a laugh, watches your face contort into carnal pleasure when he rubs your clit softly.

“Needy, baby?”

“Want you..” you whine, hands gripping his shirt. “Fuck me here. Wan’ everyone to see…”

“Jesus,” he moans, your hand going down to palm his aching shaft. “Only fucked you once and I’ve already turned you into a little cockslut, huh?”

You nod as his thumb brushes over your lips in a playful manner. You bring the digit into your mouth, making sure that it hits the very back of your throat. Nick groans at that, bringing his thumb out and crashing his lips into yours. You taste like cherry coke, and from the past few days of the constant making out you guys have been doing, Nick can infer that this is just how you taste. It’s so perfect, so incredibly sweet and precious. He grabs your arms and turns you around so he can press your body against the wall behind you. His hands undo his belt, and then he’s lifting up your skirt to see your pretty cunt.

“No panties, sweetheart?”

“Just wanted to be ready for you, daddy.”

The way you say it, so giving and dedicated, makes Nick’s cock jump. When he pulls it out he presses it flush against your bare mound and slaps your lips playfully with his tip. You squirm, little pussy red and swollen.

“Love this little pussy so much, baby,” Nick coos. He rubs your clit with his length, and it makes you tremble. “Need you to beg for daddy. C’mon, be a good girl.”

You don’t even hesitate, your voice shaky and desperate. “Please! Need you so bad, daddy. Please fuck me!”

He doesn’t hesitate to shove himself inside you, then. And although the stretch still hurts, it feels better than last time and it makes you mewl as he begins to harshly pound into you. He yanks you back by your hair, your body pressed flush against him, and he uses his other hand to yank your top down and expose your tits to the night air. They scrape against the brick wall, and it the sting makes you clench around him.

“Good little bitch.. such a tight little pussy…”

And then his tone becomes darker, and he begins to put a bruising grip on your hip.

“Tommy could’ve never fucked you like this, y’know.”

The sentence catches you off guard, your body slowing its movements. But only slightly; because as fucked up as it is, Nick still turns you on. You stutter, your eyes rolling back when Nick’s cock grazes your insides perfectly.

“W-What?”

And although it seems like Nick should be ashamed or feel caught saying the thing he just said, he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers reach down to rub you clit, as he chuckles darkly.

“You heard me. That little fucker. You were going to leave me for him, weren’t you?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion, tears beginning to form at the stress of his interrogation and his harsh thrusts. Nick slaps your ass harshly, watching it jiggle and move against him more.

“Answer me!”

“No! No, I only ever wanted you! I- I didn’t-“

“Good.”

His fingers slap your pussy, and then he’s rubbing your clit in harsh circles again. You practically scream, your wetness gushing down his dick.

“Now fucking cum for me.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You ignore Nick as he walks you back to his cabin.

You don’t know what else to do. How else are you supposed to react when your best friend slash lover decides to talk about a dead friend in bed?

It should upset you more than it does.

You’re freaked out, a little bit, of course. But the guilt, that pit in your stomach, isn’t as prominent as you thought it would be. And when Nick pulls you into a hug and softly asks, “stay, please?”, you can’t resist him. Will is out, you assume. Probably with a random girl or still at the bonfire.

None of that matters, right now. You turn your head when Nick tries to kiss you. He frowns, hands coming up to your hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why’d you say that stuff earlier, Nick?” You ask quietly. Your nervously bounce on the balls of your feet. “That was really mean.”

He sighs, looking regretful as he takes your face into his hands.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I shouldn’t of said that. I got carried away..“

His lips land on yours, gentle. You’re extremely tired, your limbs weak and your pussy aching from Nick’s harsh fucking. You don’t know how to feel, but the softness of Nick’s lips makes your eyes flutter shut.

“I won’t do it again,” he murmurs, as he pulls away. His thumb goes to wipe away stray mascara that had smeared on your face. “I promise. Just stay with me?”

You know it isn’t right. You know that what he said was messed up, was something you should leave him for. But you don’t. You just nod your head obediently, and join him on his bed. And when you’re trying to sleep and his length rubs up against your thigh, he asks if you want him. You say yes, and It’s true.

And when he brings himself up to your lips, you lick his cock clean, and show him your devotion.

@itsthatonegirl

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

i love the idea of damien being the most protective batkid.

like you’d think it was dick but nope it’s damien who was mostly raised by dick and has learnt to show his love and affection by worrying about and protecting his family in his own way. if u mess with any of his siblings be prepared to know why they call him demon brat.

when an old guy starts coughing up a lung at a gala while standing in front of an immunocompromised tim, damien immediately starts lecturing the guy about wearing a mask while simultaneously yoinking antibiotics out of tim’s pockets and handing him a glass of water.

one time a villain makes dick cry (maybe it’s scarecrow) and yes while damian knows dick cries often when he’s happy or proud or sad or sometimes when he’s angry but he has never cried in fear before. and damien is pissed because how dare you make his big brother cry? he beats the shit out of the villain.

(i’m doing two for dick because while i love the above one i realised the rest of them are civilian ones so i decided to add this one)

someone making weird comments about dicks body, stuff like, “what i would give to have him for a night”. damien is borderline murderous. “you know he has a name and Richard is not an object for you to use for your pleasure, he’s a person.”

someone says something ignorant about the people living in and around crime alley and before jason can even open his mouth damien is already going into how you should assume peoples living situations and how not everyone has the privilege the rich gothemites have.

someone says something weird and misogynistic about Steph? you already know damien is there defending all women and even bringing in points about why steph especially is incredible.

and you know if anyone said anything about any of his POC siblings ( dick, cass, duke) or himself he’s already on his “wait until i tell father that you have such racist ideals” and recording prepared to ruin this guys life.

someone is fetishising or infantilising cass? he comes out of nowhere with “she can speak for herself.” or “she’s not a work of art for you to stare and make comments about she’s a human being.”

someone making comments about how duke doesn’t below among high society because he wasn’t born into it. damien is there defending him and saying how he has better manners than they do.

this is very ooc but the idea of damien using his vocabulary to just absolutely eat people up is so pleasant to me.

also u can tell i don’t know much about the less “mainstream” batfam members but im doing my research and writing what i find down in my hyperfixation book.

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Three)

Ledger! Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of violence

Words: 4.1k

Chapter Summary: The third session with the Joker, and as you try and delve into the man he is, you can't help the connection you feel. Seems he might feel it too...

previous part: part 2 | next part: part 4

Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the wait, took a bit longer because of Halloween, was having too much fun to write. But here we are! This series is def picking up the pace now and soon we will dive into some real chaos lol. Please enjoy :) (I love inputting bits of Arkham dialogue in these because i can >:) )

_____________________________________________

On your way to work, it seems Gotham is in shambles. 

There seems to be some type of announcement going on, by someone from the GPD. You could care less, honestly, especially since you need to get to work before you’re late, but what piques your interest is the crowds of people. There is an obvious rift amongst them. Some of them hold signs displaying the infamous bat symbol, crying out in favor for Batman, it seems, some holding children at their hip who cry for the man they’ve lost. The other half push back against the pro-Batman crowd, yelling things like ‘murderer’ and ‘fraud’. The tension is so thick you can taste it. These people might tear each other apart.

Oh, if only Joker were here to see this. He’d never shut up.

A woman bumps into you, clutching a sign with that bat symbol painted on it, with words beneath it reading ‘come back’. You sneer, and she retreats back to her other Batman groupies. How could anyone get so worked up over a man in a mask? Take the mask off and we’re all messed up inside. Batman had worn the mask of a hero, parading around as Gotham’s salvation, and yet he killed people just like his enemies had. Like Joker had. Except Joker didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. 

Mr. Dale may be right about keeping all this from Joker, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He’s going to get out eventually and see all this mess. They can’t hide it from him forever. Even if he’s on house arrest for the rest of his damn life, he’s the Joker, and they won’t be able to stop him. They’re just scared. Scared that the Joker may have won. 

You walk through the city, broken into chaos, all the way to Arkham.

———————————————

This time when you enter Joker’s little conference room, he lacks his usual straitjacket, and you’re both surprised and relieved that your bosses actually listened to you. His asylum garb has been replaced with the usual Arkham patient outfit, an orange baggy shirt with matching orange pants. Immediately, as ashamed as you are, your eyes go to his arms, which are surprisingly lean and toned, probably from numerous fights. You trace his arms down to his hands, each of which have a separate handcuff linked to a man made circle jutting from the table. You look at every crinkle, every callus, every line. Human hands. Dangerous hands.

“Uh, doll, my eyes are up here, ya know.”

Shit. You look up into his eyes as you take your seat, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m… sorry, I was just-“ You try to search for an excuse, but it’s clear from the teasing look Joker gives you that he’s not looking for one. You flush. “I’m surprised they let you out of the jacket.” I’m surprised your hands are so normal. 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t from my good behavior,” he clucks, his tongue hitting the top of his mouth. “Did you ask them to get rid of it?”

You can’t tell if he’s angry or not. “I did.”

He breaks into his signature, manic grin. Not angry. Good. “I knew I liked you, doll.”

Joker doesn’t say ‘thank you’ or ‘I appreciate it’ but somehow, this is better. It’s probably as close as you’ll get to hearing those words from him and it ignites something in you. You feel proud of yourself. Proud that he’s proud of you. Before you can return his smile, you remember ‘hey, wait a fucking second, this is my patient The Joker we’re talking about here’. You settle for a small smile. Be professional. “Mr. J, I wanna start this session off by just saying I think we’re making some good progress-“

“Doctor y/n, you seem to have quite the fascination with my hands,” Joker interrupts, a giggle rising in his throat. 

Dammit. Were you looking at his hands again? You didn’t even fucking notice. You’re not trying to. You’re probably just a little shocked. Again, it’s like pulling back the curtain, getting a glimpse at the man behind the act. And there he sits, with such human looking hands. “Excuse me, I’m just…” You search for the words. “I’m not used to seeing you without being all wrapped in a jacket.”

“Well, ah, they’re just hands. Did ya think I’d have talons?”

“Maybe. Or maybe, like, robotic hands. Rocket launchers for hands. Something cooler.” Are you teasing him? Your patient? You might be teasing him, just a little.

At your teasing, his smile shifts sideways into a smirk, eyes thinning. “Cooler? What’s cool is, ah, what these hands have done. They’ve been the cause of the end of so many lives.” He tries to lace his hands together, but the handcuffs keep his arms too far apart, so his fingers touch only slightly. “Now, ah, where were we?”

You stumble to find the words. So much for professionalism. “R-right, sorry. I think we’re making real progress here. Yesterday was a good session, and I’m hoping today will follow suit.” You bring out your clipboard. Click your pen open. “Now, why don’t we pick up where we left off? We were analyzing your crimes-“

“Spectacles.”

“Whatever you wanna call em’. Now those are only one part of the man you call the Joker-“

“That is, ah, my name, doll face.”

You hold your hand up. “Let me finish. We haven’t talked about you. About this person you present as the Joker. And yes,” you say roughly, before he can cut you off again, “I know you say that you and this character you present are one in the same, but nobody is exactly the person they put out. I mean, you did say we all hide behind a facade. So, let’s talk about Joker, the one we see on TV getting the best of Batman.” You scribble a little picture of him, smiling wide and in his signature purple suit. Jutting your chin, you gestured for him to look at it. “This will be the outside Joker…” You do another little doodle, one of Joker without his makeup and in the Arkham garb. “And this will be the you in here.”

The Joker looks down at your drawings and bites the inside of his cheek. “Not much of a difference, doll face, except that I look even crappier in here.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you proud of the person that Gotham has come to know?”

“Define proud.”

“Do you feel a sense of satisfaction over the person you allow Gotham to see? This crazy clown figure?”

Joker tilts his head back, thinking, and you can’t help but stare intensely at his neck, tracing down his throat to his Adam’s apple, which moves as he swallows. Geez, what is up with you and the staring today? Luckily, he doesn’t think for long, tilting his head back down to look at you. “I’m just fine with whatever I showed to Gotham. And I don’t regret-tah one bit of it.” Looking all smug, he smirks. “I’m not proud of who I am, I relish it. Bask in it. The Clown Prince of Crime, they call me! Nothin’ better than that, doll. Means I’ve made a difference.”

“You’ve certainly made an impact, Mr. J. For better or for worse.”

“And whaddya get out of all that, doll? That I’m some kind of egotistical maniac?”

“Let me do the analyzing, please, Mr. J.”

He grunts. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile. “You say you’re proud, but clearly it’s not enough,” you tell him, scribbling notes underneath the doodle of him. “When you get out of here, you’d like to go back to all that, wouldn’t you? Go back to testing the B-Man?”

“Batsy and I just fit so well together, dolly. We’re meant to chase one another to the end of our days!”

If you can find him. “All the stuff you pulled then, did it really amount to anything if you want more?”

“Oh, doll, it’s not that I want more. I’m not just some kinda freak gettin’ a good fix when I cause havoc. My point just keeps needing to be made!” He winks at you. “Course, I know that if I get out of here I’ll have to behave.”

You seriously doubt Joker even knows the concept of behaving. “B-Man would just get you again, would he not?”

Joker cackles. He laughs at everything but you’re always confused when he laughs at something you don’t find remotely humorous. “That’s the fun part! He and I, we’re like a cat and mouse, like in those old cartoons. We’re just chasing each other in damn circles and, ah, the fun doesn’t-tah stop until one of us falls.” With a cruel smile, he flicks his fingers, as if toppling something over. “And I don’t intend to be the first to fall.”

“And after B-Man falls?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose. Doesn’t sound very fun. Why, you got a soft spot for the Bat?”

“For Batsy?” Technically, you’re not supposed to be very vocal in your own opinions, especially when they do nothing to help, but wouldn’t it be good for Joker to know you’re with him on some things? Not that Joker has too much disdain in Batman, he clearly loves to mess with him, but obviously the two are on very different sides. You want to show Joker you stand with him. “Absolutely not. The Bat hasn’t done anything to benefit me. If anything I feel more… useless. This man in a mask gets to go around fighting criminals and gets praised and here I am busting my butt everyday and what do I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You clap a hand over your mouth. Way to go overboard. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

The Joker, of course, doesn’t care that you rambled on. He looks amused. No, not just amused, he looks pleased. His whole face contorts into an evil grin. “Well well well, doll face, nowwww we’re talking. Why didn’t you tell me you loathed the Batman so much?”

“Didn’t think it important.”

“Well, ah, I find it important. Looks like we wanna both go after the Batman, don’t we?”

“Go after him?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Obviously I’m not going to do that.”

He scooches forward. “But you’d like to. Come on, doll, given the chance, wouldn’t you wanna, ah, take the Bat down?”

For some reason, you actually think about it. If you really did have the chance, would you want to bring down the Bat? He was already down now, obviously, but if you had had the chance before then, would you have taken B-Man down? Before you can even dive into it, you snap yourself out of it. Why would you even care to do all that in the first place? Imagine you, beating up Batman? You’re not crazy. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Joker shrugs. “That isn’t a no.”

Things are going far from where you need them to be. “Let’s take this conversation back to you, Mr. J. How about we talk about the Joker in here? Nothing left for you to do except sit and think. You’re not out causing havoc, you’ve been stripped of your weapons and your makeup, what do you feel about yourself now?”

Already, you can tell the Joker isn’t too fond of the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his chair, muttering things under his breath that all sound nonsensical to you. For some reason, you kinda like it. It’s about time you get under his skin too.  “I feel like I wanna hurt someone,” he answers, clenching his fists. “I just wanna get out there and get back to everything.”

“Okay… see, you’re angry at being in here, and you don’t know how to handle your emotions so you’re resorting to violence.” As much as that’s probably true, you’re almost sure that if you were stuck in Arkham, you’d wanna hurt a few people too but that won’t help.

“Violence solves a lot more problems than ya think.”

“Not mental ones. I think I’m seeing what’s going on here, Mr. J.”

Joker taps on the table, a random pattern of noise. “And that is?”

You point with your pen between the two Joker sketches. “Both these people have unresolved problems, problems coped with by violence. Plenty of people do this, but they don’t go around trying to make their points to the whole damn city. These huge acts of violence are outcries and you don’t even realize it. You have no one to turn to to sort your feelings out with and this is what the outcome is.” You look back up at him, and it’s clear he’s confused. “I told you at our last session, you need company. Someone you can relate to, empathize with, talk through these feelings with.”

He frowns. “And what about you, huh? You’re, ah, just as alone as me, not a soul to talk to, and yet you’re not blowing up hospitals.”

Will he ever quit trying to analyze you? “I have other means of coping, Mr. J. Whatever happened to you… it made you hurt. And this hurt, it turned you away from people, even though we need companionship. We seek attention and validation and yet I fear you’re seeking it in all the wrong ways.”

“Who says we need companionship?”

“Human nature. Our hearts. Your mental state,” you say harshly.

His tongue pushes out his scar as he licks the inside of his cheek. “Feistyyy. I like it when you’re all, ah, riled up.”

Joker was really pushing your buttons now, and it was worse that no matter how upset you got at him, he’d find some kind of enjoyment in it. You really couldn’t win some of the battles he put you up against. Yet, the purr in his voice made your cheeks heat. You could never tell when to be angered or enamored. “I really do think that whatever happened in your childhood resulted in your detachment from emotion, and a distrust in people, and this mix of the two… well, it hasn’t been the best for you.”

“So, whaddya suggest? I go mingle with some of the other Arkham patients? Spend some quality time together finger painting and singing Christmas carols?” His laugh comes out as a sharp exhale. “I don’t think friendship is gonna fix me, doll.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest any of that,” you assert. “I just think that isolating ourselves from not just people but also feelings, now that doesn’t get us anywhere good.”

“Clearly,” he giggles, lifting up his cuffed wrists. “But I’ve been doing just fine, doll, aside from this little incident of being locked up in here.”

It was like the Joker just considered Arkham some bump in the road before he could continue his anarchy. That wasn’t good. He couldn’t have his heart set on going back to taking down Batman, no matter how good his reason. Especially considering, well, Batman was nowhere to be seen. Gosh, you wish you could just tell him. Maybe he wouldn’t see it as motivation, maybe it would shut down all his ideas. There was just far too much risk with everything. Say something, say nothing. The Joker was a lot of uncertainties. “But you shouldn’t have to be locked up in here. You don’t have to be if you just try and listen to me. I really want you to get better.”

“I don’t need to get better,” he growls. “The way other people feel, it’s just a soft spot for others to exploit. I’m already winning because nobody has anything on me. Chaos stirs something inside me, isn’t that enough?”

“No, Mr. J, you need more than that,” you plead. Why is he so stubborn? “Just a little company can do wonders. Just some faith in someone.”

“So they can do what? Push me down on my knees like some kind of sinner, making me beg for forgiveness? Making me change my ways? You really are crazy if you believe that.”

Joker is impossible, really. You don’t know how else to get your message across, how to make him listen. So instead, you think back on your deal, take a deep breath, and give him a story.

“When I was ten years old, the kids at school all decided they hated me so much that they all pretended I didn’t exist. I’d try and approach people and… and they never even acknowledged me. It followed me all throughout the rest of my school years.” You mess with your coat, fidgeting with the buttons, not quite able to meet Joker’s gaze. “I know how it feels when people hurt you.”

You wait, wondering if the Joker will give you a story back. You’re surprised when he opens his mouth to speak. “Once, ah, when I was just starting out, one of the criminals I hired managed to sneak up on me, knocked me to the floor real good. Kept babblin’ on about how I was a freak, how I’d never amount to anything, the heel of his boot digging into my back.” He stops, taking a deep breath, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to stop all together but he continues. “Course, with all his ramblin’, he failed to notice me grabbing a blade. I stabbed him right in the foot, and oh boy, did he scream. I gave him the nastiest beating of his life, I’m sure. Blood all over the floor. And right before I was done, I made sure to give him and I matching smiles. Die with a smile, no?” Joker holds his chin up. “I don’t need people. People don’t care.”

It’s only a single story yet you realize the Joker has so much behind him. So many incidents that seemed to have fueled the thunderous rage beneath his skin. This man, finding humor in the wickedness of the world, wanting to show that everyone is essentially just as rotten as he, has been torn apart over and over again. Society had crushed the both of you yet here you sat, a doctor, and there he sat before you, a madman. In your anger towards the world, you had sought to try and help it, and in his anger, he wanted to burn it all down. You still had hope left in people, he had let that all die away.

He said people didn’t care, but you cared. This was more than just a way towards a paycheck, you really did want to help him. That’s what you’d always wanted for every Arkham patient. Yet the others did not quite distrust people as much as Joker did. Joker didn’t have anyone for him. How was it that Batman, a murderer playing superhero, still had half the city on his side and yet everyone just wanted Joker to rot away in here? You think about yourself, and how much better you would feel if you did have someone, if you had been given love and support along your miserable journey. If you could give Joker the support you’d always wanted, well, maybe that would change something in him.

“We’re both pretty messed up, huh?” you finally say, deciding not to comment on anything specifically about Joker’s anecdote. No need to keep talking about something so horrific. Joker didn’t need that. He needed comfort. 

Joker blows air from his nose, smiling softly. “We are, aren’t we? Just a buncha freaks.”

“Freaks still need to stick with other freaks.”

“And who have you got exactly, Miss l/n?”

You freeze. Nobody. Absolutely nobody. He knows it. Yet for a moment you feel… well, embarrassed. Your hand creeps to your warming face, your eyes feel suddenly watery. You don’t have your parents anymore. No old friends from school or college, not that there were many to begin with. No coworker friends, shitty bosses. All you have is yourself and you hate it. 

Joker seems to notice that his comment didn’t go down well, and he holds up his hands like he’s gesturing for you to stop, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Uh, doll, I didn’t mean to pry…”

“No, no, it’s fine…” You quickly wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Just wasn’t expecting the question, I guess.”

“Right,” he mumbles. “It wasn’t, uh, meant to be an insult.”

You let your eyes flutter close for a second and take a nice, long breath in. When your eyes open again, you straighten yourself out, contemplating your next words. “I know how it feels to be alone, Mr. J. More than anything.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, your fingers drifting towards his own, which are splayed out on the table. He sits up very still, unmoving save for a twitch in his jaw, as he watches you place your hand on top of his. You’re not sure what you’re doing, but you need your point made. “I… I know how much you think you don’t need people, but people offer support and guidance, and if I could have some of that right now, for fucks sake, I would.” You sigh. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

Joker’s tongue slowly traces along his chapped lips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You hated how well he read you and you could hardly get anything on him. Finally, he speaks. “Well, you got one now.”

The Joker, a friend. It sounds like the stupidest thing in the entire world. This was someone who had hurt and killed and destroyed. Someone who was close to no one, the people around him with one purpose: to serve him. He had said how loyalty didn’t come for free, that it needed to be bought. If something so simple as loyalty was seen as a transaction to him, did he even comprehend the concept of companionship? He must have, at some point, whoever the man before the Joker was. But the person you were dealing with was not that man, you were dealing with Joker. Joker did not seem a man who connected with anyone yet he tells you how alike the two of you are, and you can’t help but believe it. Alone in the world, the two of you. Maybe he can’t yet bring himself to make a real connection with anyone but, goddammit, you wanted him to try.

Why not be alone together?

It would all be in hopes of helping him, you told yourself. Whatever relationship the two of you were forming. If he could have someone to talk to, not just in a professional sense, but someone who would really be there for him, you think that would help a lot.

That’s all this is. This is to help him.

You squeeze his hand. “I like the sound of that, Mr. J.”

—————

It started off as a joke, really. 

Joker didn’t want to be analyzed. The first night he had been brought into Arkham, he had been poked and prodded, as doctors tried to decipher what kinda pills to stuff him full of. Joker had tried to fight them off, but they had injected him with something that made him sluggish. Just a few hours later was when they had sent in all the psychiatrists to try and fix him. Joker didn’t need to be fixed. He was an agent of chaos, a force to be reckoned with, something they just couldn’t comprehend. Then you’d come along, and you were so lonely, and Joker liked toying with things that were easy to break. Except you’re nothing like the others. There’s something about you, this way that you interact with him, the way you don’t see him as some freak. When you stare at him, you don’t look at him like he’s a monster. It’s strange.

Joker doesn’t do friends. The term itself means nothing to him. It’s a meaningless word. Most words are meaningless to him, empty sayings. Yet when you look at him with those eyes, like he’s your equal rather than beneath you, Joker does feel something. Some kind of connection. He’s never thought about killing you, which says something. It’s the only way he can describe this feeling towards you, something other than the pure disdain he usually feels towards others. There is something… warm about you. Joker didn’t like it. Yet he let it happen anyways.

Long after you’re gone, when he’s strapped onto the metal slab the Arkham guards call a bed, he thinks on some of your words. You thought a companion would help him. Someone he could rely on. Someone who would truly be loyal.

He smiles wickedly to himself. You might just be right.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey

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[gf2bellamy]

heartbeat — isaac lahey

pairing: isaac lahey x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: isaac can hear your racing heartbeat content warnings: stiles eating alot , bickering between stiles and you , shy / awkward reader

You sat in the passenger seat of Stiles' old, beaten-up Jeep, the leather cracking beneath you as the vehicle rattled over the uneven pavement. The rhythmic hum of the engine might have lulled you into a daydream if not for Stiles' relentless chatter filling the small space. 

He was going on about the kanima, listing off every fact he’d dug up in his obsessive research. His hands gestured animatedly as he spoke, barely keeping one on the wheel.

“—and honestly, I can't believe Scott. Inviting Lahey? He couldn’t have picked anyone more annoying than—” 

“What?” you blurted, snapping out of your trance. Your head jerked toward him, heart suddenly racing. 

“What?” Stiles glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance, before returning his focus to the road. 

“Why would he do that?” you stammered, your stomach twisting into knots. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up dramatically before returning one to the steering wheel. “I mean, Isaac Lahey? Mr. Broody-McBrooderson with his creepy silent stares and his, ‘Oh, I’m so mysterious and tragic’ routine? Please. We don’t need that guy sulking in the corner while we’re trying to figure out how not to get murdered by a lizard monster.” 

You barely heard him. The name Isaac was bouncing around in your head, louder than the Jeep’s sputtering engine. 

You swallowed hard, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. Of all the people Scott could’ve invited, why him? You’d had a hopeless crush on Isaac Lahey for what felt like forever, and it had only gotten worse since he’d been bitten.

He’d always been cute in that quiet, shy way, but now? Now he looked like he belonged on the cover of some edgy teen magazine with his sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and that perpetual messy-haired, tortured-soul thing he had going on. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Stiles asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

“Huh?” Your head snapped toward him again, and he gave you a look like you’d just grown a second head. 

“You’re spacing out. What’s the deal?” Stiles squinted at you, his brows knitting together suspiciously. 

“Nothing! No deal! Just, uh… processing,” you said, stumbling over your words and crossing your arms defensively. 

“Processing? Processing what?” he pressed, his tone sharp with curiosity. 

“Nothing!” you repeated, maybe a little too loudly. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes but thankfully returned his focus to the road, muttering under his breath. “Weird. You’re being weird.” 

But before you could respond, the Jeep turned onto Scott’s street, the familiar sight of his house coming into view. 

As Stiles pulled into the driveway, your stomach churned with nervous anticipation.

You climbed out of the Jeep, the gravel crunching beneath your boots as you followed Stiles up the driveway. His pace was brisk, determined—typical Stiles.

Stiles reached the door and, with his usual enthusiasm, began banging on it like it was some kind of emergency. "Stiles, stop," you hissed under your breath, your voice tight with nerves. 

"What?" He turned to you, brows furrowed, completely unfazed by your discomfort. He shrugged his shoulders and knocked again, louder this time. 

Before you could protest any further, the door swung open with a groan, and Scott stood there, eyes wide with surprise.

“Will you stop?” Scott groaned, stepping aside to let you both in. He didn’t look angry, just… used to Stiles' antics. “I told you to stop,” you muttered under your breath as you passed Scott. 

Stiles gave you an exaggerated, sheepish grin, as he passed you, heading straight toward the kitchen. 

Scott followed him immediately, his voice rising in frustration. “Stiles, we’re supposed to start planning, not—ugh, you’re already eating!” 

You stood there for a moment, watching them head toward the kitchen, your fingers absently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. The sight of them bickering made you smile slightly—this was familiar, the way they always were.

But then your eyes drifted across the room, and your stomach lurched when you saw Derek standing by the map on the table, his sharp eyes scanning over it without sparing anyone a glance. 

You wandered toward the couch, pulling a random book from the stack on the coffee table and sitting down, grateful for the distraction. You'd been friends with Scott and Stiles for years now, so it was easy to slip into the comfort of Scott’s living room.

As you flipped the book open, you heard footsteps approaching and glanced up to see Stiles plopping down beside you, a crinkling chip bag in his lap. He leaned over your shoulder, his usual curiosity piqued as he tried to see what you were reading. 

"Seriously, do you need to know what I’m reading right now?" you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it wasn’t like Stiles cared. His head was already too close, eyes peering at the page with exaggerated interest. 

“You're reading this?” Stiles made a face, tapping the cover with a chip. “I thought you were all about the paranormal stuff, not romance novels. What, are you a romantic now?” 

As Stiles leaned closer, still teasing you about the book in your hands, you decided you’d had enough. With a mischievous grin, you reached into the chip bag on his lap and grabbed a handful. 

“Hey! Stop that!” Stiles exclaimed, pulling the bag away and holding it just out of your reach. 

“These are mine!” he grumbled, glaring at you like you’d committed some sort of heinous crime. 

You smirked, unfazed. “If you didn’t want to share, you shouldn’t have brought them in here.” You made another grab, earning a dramatic gasp from him as he twisted away. 

“Guys, can we start now?” 

Scott’s voice cut through the room, and you froze mid-snatch, your hand awkwardly hovering over the chip bag. You glanced up to see Scott standing in front of you, arms crossed, wearing his usual exasperated expression. But what really caught your attention was the figure standing beside him. 

Isaac. 

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly dropped back into your seat, trying to act nonchalant as you let Stiles deal with Scott’s frustration. 

“Finally,” Stiles muttered, getting up from the couch with his precious chips in hand. “Stop stealing my food,” he huffed before shuffling over to the table where Derek stood waiting, a map spread out before him. 

Scott followed Stiles to join Derek, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. Isaac was still standing there, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as his eyes flicked toward you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low but warm. 

You forced yourself to meet his gaze for a fraction of a second before quickly looking away, your nerves making it impossible to hold eye contact. “Hi,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You stood up from the couch, and made your way over to where Stiles was loudly explaining some wild theory about the Kanima, grateful for the distraction.

You felt Isaac approach. He moved to stand beside you, his tall frame close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. 

Your heart was racing, and that was a huge problem. You were in a room with three werewolves, all of whom could undoubtedly hear it. You swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself as Scott and Stiles debated over a detail on the map. 

Then, as if the universe had it out for you, Isaac leaned in. His shoulder brushed against yours, the light touch sending a jolt through your body. He pointed at something on the map, his voice smooth as he added to the discussion. 

Your breath caught in your throat. There was no way they didn’t hear it now—your heart hammering against your ribcage like a drum. You didn’t dare glance at Isaac, afraid of what you might see in his expression.

Instead, your eyes flicked across the room, landing on Derek, who was watching you. 

His sharp gaze met yours, and his brow lifted ever so slightly. It was subtle, but the meaning was clear. We can hear you. 

You felt your cheeks flush a deep red, and you quickly looked away, your embarrassment nearly overwhelming. Great. Just great. Now Derek knew, and by extension, probably everyone else. 

Meanwhile, Isaac didn’t seem to notice—or at least, he didn’t let on. He stayed where he was, his shoulder brushing against yours once again as he adjusted his stance.

It was maddening. You could barely focus on what Scott was saying because all you could think about was Isaac standing so close, his presence practically enveloping you. 

The sound of keys jingling at the front door made the entire room freeze. The faint click of the lock turning was followed by the door swinging open, revealing Melissa McCall. 

The group turned as one, Stiles mid-crunch with a mouthful of chips, Scott suddenly standing bolt upright and awkwardly shifting to block the map on the table. 

“Mom!” Scott exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. He reached behind him, hurriedly folding the edges of the map in a poor attempt to hide it. “I thought you were working!” 

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her eyes scanning the room full of teenagers and one brooding adult - werewolf. “I got off early,” she said, her tone skeptical as she stared down her son. “What’s going on here?” 

Stiles, in true Stiles fashion, tried to fill the silence with something that, in his mind, probably sounded reasonable. Instead, he mumbled through a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying everywhere. “Uh, homework club?” 

You slapped his arm before he could make it worse, glaring at him. “Why would you say that?” you whispered harshly, though the exasperation in your tone was loud enough to draw attention. 

Isaac, who had been standing close enough to overhear, let out a quiet chuckle. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your gaze fixed on Stiles.

“Homework club?” Melissa repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief as she crossed her arms. 

Scott, still scrambling for an explanation, stepped in to intercept. “We’re, uh… just hanging out! You know, normal hanging out.” His smile was painfully forced, and you couldn’t help but cringe internally at how obvious it was. 

Melissa’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Scott to the rest of the group. Her gaze lingered on Derek, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, leaning against the wall with his usual brooding expression. 

Derek glanced at Melissa briefly before muttering under his breath, “I think we’ve got it figured out.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed away from the wall and strode toward the door, brushing past both Melissa and Scott like they weren’t even there. 

Melissa frowned, watching him leave. “Figured what out?” she asked, her tone sharp with suspicion. 

Scott threw up his hands, laughing nervously. “Oh, you know… just… things.” 

You winced. Real smooth, Scott. 

Melissa gave her son a long, pointed look before sighing. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but as long as it doesn’t destroy my house or involve the Sheriff showing up, I don’t want to know.” 

Stiles, having recovered from your earlier slap, grinned through another mouthful of chips. “See? She gets it.” 

“Stiles!” you hissed, your face heating with embarrassment as Melissa’s gaze turned to him. 

Scott, clearly desperate to shift the focus, quickly ushered his mom toward the stairs. “Thanks, Mom! Love you! You should get some rest!” 

Melissa paused, narrowing her eyes one last time before reluctantly heading up the stairs. “You all better clean up before you leave!” 

The room fell into an awkward silence as her footsteps receded, and once the door to her room closed, everyone collectively let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. 

Stiles turned to Scott with a grin. “Well, that went great.” 

Scott groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even let you into my house ?” 

You leaned against the table , shaking your head with a small smile. Isaac, who was still standing nearby, caught your eye. His lips quirked up into a faint smirk, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Homework club, huh?” he said quietly, the teasing lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn. 

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way your pulse betrayed you. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

His smirk widened just a little, and before you could say anything else, Stiles cut in. “Alright, now that the mom crisis is over, can we please focus on the Kanima before it decides to show up and eat someone?”

Once the group got back to discussing the Kanima (without Derek, who had clearly had enough), Stiles predictably wandered off into the kitchen, announcing he needed to refuel. 

Scott groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stiles! We’re trying to plan here!” He sighed, giving in and following his friend to presumably drag him back—or at least stop him from raiding the fridge. 

That left you alone with Isaac. 

The room suddenly felt much quieter, the weight of his presence amplifying everything. You tried to focus on the map on the table, but the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears made it impossible. 

“You heading out?” Isaac’s voice broke the silence, his tone low and casual, but his question caught you off guard. 

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking with his startlingly blue ones. For a moment, you forgot how words worked.

Then, snapping out of it, you shook your head quickly. “Nope,” you said, the p popping more than you intended. 

You immediately cursed yourself. Smooth. 

Isaac tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned against the edge of the table. 

“Stiles drove me here,” you added, trying to sound nonchalant. “So I’ll be waiting until he’s done… y’know, with eating Scott's entire fridge” You rolled your eyes, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen. 

Isaac’s lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken—again. He noticed, of course. Of course he did. 

Your heart was racing so fast now that you were sure it was louder than your voice. A tiny, irrational part of you hoped he hadn’t noticed, but deep down, you knew better. He was a werewolf, after all.

Isaac tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the side like he was trying to stifle a grin. Then he leaned in just a fraction, closing some of the distance between you.

“You know,” he started, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, “you should really work on that.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “Work on what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Isaac’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tapped a finger lightly against his chest, just over his heart. “That,” he said, his tone almost playful.

You froze, your face heating instantly as the realization sank in. He could hear it—your racing heartbeat—and he was absolutely calling you out on it.

Before you could even attempt to recover, Isaac stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he passed. The touch was brief but enough to send your nerves spiraling.

“I’ve got to head out,” he said, his voice soft now. He paused near the door, glancing back at you with that same teasing smile. “But don’t worry. It’s kinda flattering.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, equal parts mortified and exhilarated.

You let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Great. Just great,” you muttered to yourself.

From the kitchen, Stiles’ voice rang out. “Hey! Did Isaac just leave? Did I miss something?” 

You let out a long sigh, glaring at the doorway. “Just eat your food, Stiles!”