#and mind you they can even have my blood!! I don't care!! I itch all over constantly anyway so what ever

[visdiefje]

I MISS living in a house with bug screens... For any future housing unless it is windy enough to blow anything small away, bug screens are a NECESSITY

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We’re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

[greyskyflowers]

I really really really wish that Edwin had stay all bloody and filthy when he and Charles came back from hell.

Blood feels weird. It's got a weird.. texture? Consistency? Idk. Anyway, if I was in a dark room and someone said can you guess if it's water or blood on your hand? I would probably be able to tell by feeling it. As it dries it gets a sticky tar feeling and personally, it makes me itch when it dries.

Not to mention the smell and taste of it.

It's unpleasant.

Listen, I had a lot of nose bleeds when I was little, like my parents took me to prompt care because there was so much blood and it'd go on for like a hour straight heavy nose bleeds. I was also played a bunch of sports and was outside a lot so lots of experience with blood.

I think Edwin would absolutely hate the feel of blood on him. Now, ghosts may not be able to feel it like the living would, but I feel like it would still feel weird on them. Maybe like when you walk through a spider web and it's just that almost unnoticeable wispy tug on your skin?

I feel like Charles wouldn't mind it. In a way, he's probably used to it.

And he's the brawn so like of course he's cool with blood, greysky. Where are you going with this?

I think there's a specific intimacy with cleaning someone up.

They're familiar with cleaning blood off each other, although never to this extent and usually it's Charles getting clean up instead of Edwin. He finds he doesn't quite like the role reversal.

So what if...

Edwin came back from hell still bloody and filthy, hands sliding on the floor when he tries to brace himself to get up, looking at Charles with huge, terrified eyes.

A unspoken I don't know what to do is this real please help me what do I do what if it never comes off Charles please

And Charles doesn't even hesitate. He's on his feet and helping Edwin up in seconds.

He ignores the way the blood is making his own skin sticky and probably getting all over his clothes. Instead he notices how in the light he can see there's faint lines running down Edwin's cheeks that don't seem as filthy as the rest of him, how he's still barefoot and it makes him a little shorter than he usually is, how he's grabbing back at Charles a little desperately and is doing everything he can to keep him close.

They could feel each other down in Hell. Charles could feel how cold Edwin's fingers were and his own skin had broken out in goosebumps. Leaving seems to have returned them to normal but there's a little extra sensitivity, a little extra rawness, to his skin.

So he makes sure the water is warm, because he doesn't know if Edwin's skin feels the same way and taking a chance by cleaning him up with cold water feels cruel.

It doesn't stop the shaking though.

And the water swirls down the drain in shades of black, red, and pink.

One of the girls leaves a few big towels by the door and Charles brings them in by opening the door just enough to squeeze them through. He's not ready to let the real world in yet.

Edwin sits there, all wrapped up in a big, fluffy towel and looking lost in the quiet of a bathroom that still smells like mud and rust, like he's still not sure he's really there.

Charles takes a smaller towel to his hair, dries it until it's all messy and Edwin looks so young in the florescent lights as he blinks up at him. The shadows under his eyes seem worse without the filth covering them.

Charles cleans himself up too because the idea of getting blood on Edwin now makes him want to throw up. Edwin sits in the same spot and stares off into space in a way that makes him keep the shower curtain half open to watch him.

It feels like the world has narrowed down to just them. The mirror is still fogged up from the steam and it's quiet except for the occasional drip from the faucet.

There's a dampness in the air as they sit there next to each other, but it's nothing like the heavy humidity that seemed to linger in those hallways where he found Edwin.

They sit there on the floor, wrapped up in damp towels, backs to the door and they stare at the wall. Edwin tilts his head just enough to cautiously rest in on Charles's shoulder, like he's still scared this will turn out to be a trick, and Charles finally let's out the breath he's been holding in since Edwin was taken.

💧💧💧

I don't know. The vulnerability and intimacy of cleaning someone up, taking care of them like that, it always gets me. 😢

[thatwritterbeach]

One messed up bat pt.1

Dc masterlist all other parts found here

Batfam x femreader Jason x reader eventually

Warnings: angst, self harm, self hate, depression,

Summary:Y/n gets caught self harming by Damian, and Tim calls in some backup

A/N: I do not own dc booohooo ooc Tim, I don't spend much time watching/reading his robin sorry **^ so I can't remember if it's canon or from a fic but at this point who cares the storyline is all fucked so in this story I'm saying that Jason tried to call dick for help with his mom but dick was asleep/didn't pick up so Jay went alone and died, now Dick CAN NOT miss a phone call it sends him into a panic attack, thank you for coming to my trauma talk

ok so we all know the timeline is shit so this is the ages for this story only found it on a reddit post, fight me at dawn if you don't like it

Bruce Wayne (Batman) at 45

Barbara Gordon (Oracle) at 27

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) at 25

Jason Todd (Red Hood) at 22

Tim Drake (Red Robin) at 18

Damian Wayne (Robin) at 11

Y/n 21

not my gif^

(2 weeks ago)

"Y/n, you can't keep acting like a child you're twenty-one," Dick whisper shouted in the corner of the batcave.

"Dick, I'm not going to apologize for helping people-"

"You disobeyed a direct order. You could have been hurt, you can't be that kind of influence to Tim and Damian."

"You don't even live here, Dick, you can't just-"

"You're benched until further notice."

"You can't-"

"Benched," Bruce confirmed stepping over to them.

(1 week ago)

"Hey, Dick, do you have a sec," she asked into the phone then immediately bit firmly into her hand to hold back a sob.

"You're still benched," he said without remorse.

"That's not-you know what never mind." She hung up on him and threw the phone onto her bed heading to her en-suite bathroom to release the itch.

(present)

"Beloved! Beloved, look I-," Damian shouted with glee but cut himself off with a scream when he opened her unlocked bathroom door. He thought she was doing her face masks not...in the bathtub with blood dripping from her arms into pink bubble filled water.

"Damian wait," she called after his retreating form. Shit, shit. She hurried to drain the water and throw on her over sized t-shirt just managing to pull some boxers on when Damian burst back in with Tim, practically dragging him into the space.

"Damian what's the problem-"

"Fix her," he shouted with haste and was about to shove Tim into the room when he noticed y/n standing there looking fine.

"Damian, I'm ok, I promise," she tried to convince him softly. He looked from her to the tub, not even a drop of evidence in sight.

"No, you-I saw the blood. Tim she cut herself I saw it," he told the older boy trying to lunge for her arm but she side stepped him.

"Damian, give us a minute," Tim tried to gently shoo him away. Damian shook his head aggressively and latched himself onto her side, clinging to her like a koala. She combed her fingers through his hair and gently detangled him.

"Dami, Tim and I just need to have a quick chat, he's gonna fix me right up, aren't you, Tim," she asked, sending him a look that clearly gave direction.

"Yeah, kid, I'll take care of her, she'll be right as rain."

"You won't hurt yourself again?" He was giving her puppy eyes, looking his own age for once and it pulled on her heart strings.

"I won't," she agreed patting him on the head and crossing her fingers behind her back with the other hand. Damian gave her one last hug then hurried out of the room. There was an awkward silence as Tim stood blocking the doorway, his jaw ticking and toe nearly tapping.

"You know I have to tell."

"Please don't." She shook her head then grabbed the first aid kit beneath the sink.

"Let me," he said softly, taking it from her and getting out the supplies. When she set her arm on the counter for him to work he sucked in a breath. "Those are deep," he accused.

"I wasn't trying anything. I'm not stupid, just a heavy bleeder." She rolled her eyes where he couldn't see and hissed when he dumped alcohol on her arm.

"They almost need stitches."

"Butterfly stickers are fine," she said digging them out of the kit one handed.

"I at least have to tell Dick-"

"NO," she said so firm he actually stepped back to look at her.

"I have to tell someone, I can't watch you 24/7."

"I don't need babysat," she seethed.

"I can tell Bruce or I can tell Dick first. Either way you aren't doing this alone."

"I cant stop you?"

"Not a chance."

"Dick told me I needed to be a better influence for you. Sorry for fucking that up, but to be fair there's worse things about me. I tried to call him a week ago, I was feeling the um...the 'itch' so to speak but as soon as he picked up he told me I was still benched. I was so pissed that he immediately thought that's what I called for I told him never mind and hung up. You can't tell him that, after Jason you know he-"

"Hates missing phone calls," Tim finished for her. **^

Tim had every intention of telling him, he knew it would hurt but come on, she tried to get help. Of course she didn't ask anyone in the house, but he wasn't about to be offended she didn't ask the child or his newly adult self for help, and he sure as hell got the not wanting to tell Bruce.

"Why not Alfred?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you go to Alfred for help."

"He deals with enough shit from the rest of you, coming in half dead each night."

"That doesn't mean you come second, and sure as hell not last, we love you."

"Yeah, well it doesn't feel like it most of the time." He was finished with her arm and she resisted the urge to yank it away from him. One of Jason's flannel was on a towel hook on the wall and she quickly put it on to hide the bandages.

"I'm gonna go make sure Dami's ok," she said gently moving him out of the way. The second she was gone he hurried back to his room for his phone, that he'd left on the charger and yanked the cord out. He hit speed dial 3, Dick's cell, and held the phone to his ear while he headed out on his balcony to totally not scale down the wall instead of taking the stairs. Dick picked up on the 4th ring with a tired sigh and a 'this better be good' Tim told him to wait a sec while he got way out of hearing range.

"Did Y/n call you last week?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"Did you jump her case and not give her a second to speak?"

"You sound a bit pissed timbers, cut to it and tell me what I did. I haven't slept in 37 and a half hours."

"And you call me an idiot," he snorted.

"Tick tock bro," Dick mumbled head already sinking into his pillow.

"She'd been cutting herself and she called you to ask for help, well, she didn't say that word, but she was calling to tell you what she'd been doing to herself," Tim stated with little to no remorse for the heart attack he'd just given his brother.

"She what," Dick shouted throwing off the blankets and grabbing his go bag.

"I assume you'll catch the next train?" The sound of Dick falling and cursing while he hopped into pants could be heard and Tim nodded and hung up. Thankfully because the author said so Dick had switched from his police job to a remote roll in Wayne industries he just stayed in Bludhaven to have his independence and not deal with Bruce more than he had to. Alfred insisted he come for monthly dinners and he did.

Tim went back inside to hunt for Y/n and Damian and found them having mugs of hot chocolate together on the kitchen counter.

"So, you're ok," Damian asked in a small voice using a stir stick to hold his marshmallows under the liquid.

"I told you, Tim fixed me, and he probably ran off to call Dick so he could come make double sure I'm ok. You don't need to worry, I promise I'll always be here to have hot cocoa with," she replied, crossing her heart and holding out her pinkie to him. He hooks his with hers and to her surprise continued to hold on, not moving to actually hold her hand but simply letting their hands rest on the counter pinkies linked. Not wanting to interrupt Tim quietly made his way back out, he still had some calls to make.

Jason picked didn't pick up on the first call, or the second but finally on the third he answered out of breath and with gunshots loud in the foreground.

"The hell dya' want," he all but shouted into the line dodging hits and getting in several of his own.

"Sorry, I'll call back later-"

"No, talk now, I got it under *way too loud thud* control."

"Just uh, get here as quick as you can, nobodies dying so-"

"Make it quick but don't freak, got it." And he hung up. Next was Bruce who surprise surprise didn't answer a call or text, so Tim left a message.

"Get off Selena and come help your kid," he said with more aggression than snark. (this doesn't feel at all like something Tim would say but i'm not familiar enough with his character to fix it)

This time when he went to the kitchen it was just Y/n on the counter Damian had gone who knows where.

"So who all did you tell?"

"Just Dick so far, he's on his way. Jason was in the middle of a fight so he's coming later but I didn't tell him and Bruce didn't pick up-"

"Shocker, dude nabs all these kids then can't be bothered to spend time with them outside of a Halloween costume," she scoffed rolling her eyes.

"You're not wrong but-"

"Oh, don't start Stan." She waved him off hopping down to wash the mugs not willing to leave them for Alfred.

9-20-24

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

Don't Stop - Law x FemReader

Hey all! This is my first attempt at writing smut that I feel like is good enough to publish. Since it's kinktober, I wanted to contribute to the community in some way. I typed it up this morning and went over it a few times. Its fairly short, a little over 3k words and features mutual masturbation.

Edit: I keep going back and making changes when will the perfectionism leave me lol. I also changed the title bc I like it better.

This is for my Law girlie's. Hope you enjoy!

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Law had decided early on that day that he wouldn’t allow any distractions. He had let the paperwork build and build over the past couple of days, something that has greatly troubled him. It’s not like him to avoid work, but he couldn’t get that damn woman off his mind no matter how hard he tried. The feeling of her curves, the valley between her breasts, the sounds she’d make-

Today is different, though. Today will be productive and disciplined. He’s the damn Captain, a surgeon - he can handle a little discipline. But no matter how many times he reads through his paperwork, fills out variables and dots his signatures, he struggles with maintaining focus. He’s never felt so needy before, so goddamn horny. It’s annoying the way you completely flood his senses in every way. More than that, it’s irritating. After what feels like hours, but has likely only been maybe one hour of mindlessly dragging his eyes along the papers, he groans in frustration. Law leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He can’t. The moment he closes his eyes, all he can see is your beautiful smile. The way the light shines through your hair, the sway of your hips and the shape of your ass. How your lips looked wrapped around him last night. His thoughts get more jumbled, more needlessly arousing that he feels his cock twitch in his jeans. Fuck. Goddammit. This is bullshit.

Get a grip, Trafalgar. Get a goddamn grip on yourself.

He can’t take it anymore. In one swift motion, he stands abruptly from his desk and exits his office. Law can be a patient man when he needs to be, but today is not one of those days. He can’t focus until he sees you, until he gets the opportunity to bring you both to a fucked-out state of bliss. He needs to feel his body against yours, to light the fire in his veins that pervades and itches beneath his skin. Law barely even registers the faces he passes, the familiar friends and colleagues of his crew with their faces twisted with either concern or a knowing expression. They aren’t even on his mind. His feet move fast, echoing through the metal halls of the Polar Tang. He needs you. He needs you like air.

Law makes it to his quarters where he had left you this morning. He’d exchanged a few sweet chaste kisses in the early morning hours to try to convince the both of you that he’d come back for more later. Later arrived far sooner than either of you might have anticipated, but his control had snapped and he's now a man on a mission. He takes a deep breath, his hand lingering on the doorknob. This is it, Trafalgar, your one last chance to walk away before you-

“Fuck.”

A breathy moan reverberates from inside of the room. Law feels his heart stop and his blood turn cold. He knows that voice, the quality of swears that leave you when you’re in the throws of passion. Are you…?

Another moan, this time longer but softer. His eyes widen and his heart suddenly quickens at the sound. He can’t believe it. You are.

An internal, agonizing debate begins in his head. Should he walk in, give you what you need? Should he walk away, try to take care of business himself? At this point he’s too far gone - he knows what you’re doing and god does he want to join. With the sound of another wanton moan, his primal urges win out and he gently pushes open the door. He's careful to move it in just the right way that it won’t creak, unsure if he wants to get caught and possibly interrupt it. He slips in, quickly closing the door behind him to observe the debauchery going on in his bed.

And fuck, is it debaucherous.

Law takes in the beautiful feast before him - you lying back on the mattress, only a thin sheet haphazardly resting against your lower waist, blocking the full view of your activities. Your back is arched, eyes closed as your hands move desperately in tandem beneath the sheets. He can hear the wet sounds of your slick being invaded by your digits and, judging by the trembling of your legs, you’ve been at this for a while. A small, shaky breath leaves him as he hears your noises - god, those noises that haunt him and invade his dreams. Those enchanting, goddamn helpless sighs, little gasps and hiccups that escape you when you’re really enjoying yourself. Law swears he could listen to them on repeat and never tire of hearing them. The flush of your cheeks is so mesmerizing that his eyes linger there in particular for a moment, a growing desire rising in him to make that blush deeper. His eyes trail back down, and this is the part that really makes him really feral; you’re wearing his shirt, and it’s hoisted just above your breasts to expose the beautiful peaks of your areolas. Everything about you is so intoxicating, and the fact that you’re completely surrounded by him, his scent, his private quarters - all of it just sets him off. He is immediately hard in his jeans, feeling the tightness constricting him like a vice.

“Fuck…” Law breathes, accidentally falling back against the door.

That’s when you hear him. With two fingers still curled inside you, your finger desperately rubbing your needy clit, you halt your movements dead in your tracks. Your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend leaning against the door, his own face slightly flushed despite his usual resting-grumpy face. Your heart is racing and you can’t even think for a moment from the combination of the lustful haze and embarrassment filling you. You’re both quietly observing each other, watching with acute awareness that this isn’t what either of you were expecting. Finally, you can’t stand the awkward silence anymore, and you decide to speak.

“I thought you were working.” You say breathlessly, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your actions only moments ago.

“Yeah, I can see that.” You respond quietly. You’re trying to get a handle on your breathing, but your hands are still posed to attack at your aching center again. You don’t know why you haven’t moved them away yet, but now it feels awkward to call attention to that area.

“I was.” Law answers simply, a little more quickly than even he meant. “I’m not now, though.”

It doesn’t matter if you do call attention to it or not, though. Law’s eyes are already trailing down your body with a silent reverence and a hidden, predatory intention. His throat bobs as he makes it to the sheet that’s covering you. It’s silent again but only for a few moments this time. It doesn’t take long before Law’s self control breaks.

“Don’t stop.”

Your breathing hitches at his words, the way they sound so firm yet strained making your walls clench around your fingers automatically. Don’t stop - don’t stop? Your brain doesn’t even fully comprehend the command before your hands are already working you over again. The middle and ring fingers of your right hand rub slow circles at your clit, the same fingers on your left hand beginning to pump back into you. It’s not as intense as it was when you were interrupted but it’s enough to elicit small, needy whines from you. Your eyes stay trained on Law’s and the way his pupils seem to have darkened over his expression. You trail over his body in a quiet admiration for your boyfriend. His muscles that are taut beneath his shirt, the way his belt buckle rests on his waist, and his cock that's so hard and dying to escape his pants. The sight makes you groan and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from getting too loud.

A small smirk rises to Law’s lips. He sees exactly what you’re looking at and it drives him crazy with need. His arms are crossed over his chest as he watches the show, but he’s not sure how long he can last with the throbbing in his groin.

“Move the sheet.” He instructs, his voice smooth but commanding. It’s the same voice he uses when he’s giving out assignments or instructing a surgery. It’s also your favorite voice he uses in the bedroom.

You take your hand away from your clit, shakily moving it to remove the sheet that blocks his view. Once you’re fully exposed, your hand returns to your clit and a soft whimper escapes your throat. You’re pulsing around your fingers again when you see the way his eyes zero-in on your pussy and the good work you’re doing. Fuck, it’s such a turn-on to see the way his cock twitches in his jeans. Through breathless gasps, your hands increase their speed and your own gaze is fixated on Law.

“Touch yourself.” You instruct, using your own commanding voice despite how much you’re falling apart.

You don’t need to tell Law twice. His hands move to undo his belt with practiced ease, but his eyes never leave you. His smirk stays fixated on his lips even with how flustered he’s feeling. You’re so beautiful to him, you hung the goddamn moon and now you’re putting on the most perfect show for him. He can't get enough.

“You want me to get off to you touching yourself, (y/n)?” Law asks in almost a mocking, teasing tone.

You nod weakly, biting your lip when you see him toss the belt aside carelessly. His hands move to his buttons and zipper, and the sound of the zipper echoing in the room is enough to make a few needy sighs leave you. It’s only heightened when his cock springs out eagerly as though it was dying to greet you and make an appearance.

“Fuck, you’re so hard…” You groan, your eyes shutting briefly to try to get a grip on yourself.

That’s not good enough for Law, though.

“Hey, eyes up here. You’re the one who wanted me to touch myself.” Law says, his tone both firm and somehow still laced in mockery.

Your eyes snap open at his command and you can see he’s already making quick work of his shaft, his hand pumping in slow, measured movements. His tip is already red and inflamed, glistening beautifully with his precum in a way that makes you lick your lips. Without your permission, your hands have already started picking up the speed. Your two fingers are curling and moving in and out of you with a force that makes your body tense. Your fingers at your clit circle the bundle of nerves furiously, causing your body to shiver from the pleasurable sensations. You’re already so close from building yourself back up. This scenario, it’s the hottest thing that you and Law have ever done, which is saying something.

It’s so primal, so horny and hungry that both of you have to watch each other masturbate while longing to touch the other. The sounds in the room are absolutely sinful - moans, low curses, huffs, and the sound of skin being assaulted echo against the metal walls. Pure unadulterated lust fills the room and it's enough to make both you and Law feels completely enraptured by it. You’ve never seen Law so undone so quickly before and you’ve certainly never seen the way he touches himself. It’s almost hypnotizing to dart between the focused look on his face and the way his hand eagerly strokes his cock.

“Add a third finger.” Law commands, his voice breathless and strained.

You immediately do as he says, a third finger poking into your core with little regard. Another whine leaves you and the way your face contorts with pleasure causes Law’s hips to buck towards his hand involuntarily.

“Fuck, (y/n)...you’re so goddamn needy for me. You couldn’t wait a few hours?” He mocks breathlessly.

“No, I-...I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Clearly. You’re so wet for me, I-” Law hisses, his hand clenching around his cock. “God, you’re so beautiful like this. Using your hands and pretending they’re mine.”

You groan, your body arching slightly at his praise. He always knows exactly what to say to get you there but you always give it right back to him. Dirty talk has almost become a game between the two of you. Ordinarily the surgeon is very introverted and stern, but in the bedroom he has a way of opening up far more than you’d ever expected.

“Yeah? You like that I couldn’t stop thinking about you, that I- ah-...that I needed to fuck myself?” You respond just as breathlessly before biting your lip to suppress another whiny moan.

Law doesn’t respond immediately, a strangled huff leaving his throat instead. He’s not one for making a lot of noises, but you have a way of bringing out the worst - and best - in him.

“What were you thinking about?” Law asks quickly, almost like he’s compelled to.

Your hands increase their speed, your fingers almost slamming into you and dragging along your walls. Every now and then you touch that beautiful, spongy g-spot that makes your pussy clench tighter.

“You bending me over your desk, slapping my ass and calling me a good girl.” The words fall out of your mouth, and you’d almost be embarrassed if you weren’t so worked up.

That doesn’t matter to Law, though. He groans, his head falling back against the door he’s still leaning against. He can feel his heartrate quickening and every word you say is pushing him closer. Your voice alone is like a goddamn aphrodisiac.

You’re not doing much better, either. Seeing him almost lose himself from your admission sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t take your eyes off of his cock - you’re completely fixated by the way his veins decorate his shaft and the tattoos on his hands moving fervently to bring him to a release. You can feel yourself reaching that peak, teetering on the edge towards absolute nirvana.

The noises coming out of you are not even controlled anymore - they’re animalistic, urgent, and your hands are moving with that same energy. It’s been quiet for a minute now since your admission, but Law speaks up quicker this time than the last.

“Look at you, taking your fingers so good. You're such a mess.” He breathes, his hand stroking his cock a little faster now. He can see the sickness of your fingers when they exit you and it's so delicious looking. “A goddamn mess. So fucking tight you can barely move your fingers.”

“Law.” You whine, your body tensing. He's absolutely right - with how much you're tightening and pulsing on your fingers, you can barely move all three of your fingers. Your walls have a firm grip on you as if trying to swallow you whole.

“Yeah, baby? You say my name so goddamn perfect. Say it again. Say it.” He commands, small huffs of air leaving him. If you could hear anything over the noise of your pussy and the sounds leaving you, Law can be heard groaning so softly.

“Law. Fuck, you feel so good.” You gasp, your mind completely hazy. It's not even him in you but you're so preoccupied by the movements of his hand that you can't help it. It's what comes out.

“Mm…do I? You wish it was my cock stuffing your pretty pussy instead?” Law groans, his head falling back again. He's so close that he can't even begin to hold himself together anymore.

“Yes. Please, I want…fuck, I-...oh my g-...” You choke out, your words barely even coherent anymore. You're so close, right on that precipice, and it makes Law let out a breathless chuckle.

“You gonna come already? Fine, do it, then. Be a good girl and look at me while you cream on your fingers.” Law commands breathlessly, his voice strained but stern.

That's all it takes for you. With a final curl of your digits, you're sent firmly over the edge and into complete unfettered ecstasy. The way you tremble and keen makes Law finish too, though his is more controlled and fairly silent save for one quiet groan.

Law can't peel his eyes away from you as you finish. It's mesmerizing watching you writhe and work yourself through your orgasm. It feels like he's watching some taboo art he's not supposed to. Your body is so gorgeous to him that it makes his heart pound. How in hell did he get so lucky?

After a few moments of panting and quietly recollecting yourselves, Law pads off across the room to grab a towel and clean his hand. He'd managed to catch most of his release, though he has to wipe some of it from his shirt. With a sigh, he removes the material, chiding himself silently for making such a mess. He finally glances back over at you, seeing the blissed-out limp expression on your face. Law smirks before making his way over to the bed, taking a seat next to you.

It's quiet for a moment and he can tell that you've fully come back to yourself. Your flushed cheeks indicate the embarrassment that seems to have finally settled in. He chuckles softly, taking a hand to brush some hair from your forehead.

“You have a good time?” He teases quietly.

You groan, annoyed, and avert your gaze from his. You've never been caught masturbating before, much less masturbated with someone else. It was as vulnerable and shameful as it was hot.

“Shut up.” You pout. “I didn't think you were coming back for a few hours.”

“I know.” Law says gently, moving his fingers delicately through your hair. “It's fine. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yeah, well I disagree.”

“What? You didn't like it?” Law asks with a small smirk. Judging by how you two got off, he knows that you'd be full of shit to deny it.

“Tell you what. I still have some work that I need to get done. At lunch, though, I want you to stop by my office.” Law leans in close, his breath tickling your ear. “Maybe we can make that fantasy of yours a reality.”

You don't even bother answering. You know he knows the answer. After a few moments of silence, Law clicks his tongue his fingers moving to drag his knuckles across your cheek gently.

[catcze]

oh btw i know that a werewolf is a pretty obvious pick for your newest man but he does look like he'd make for a great vampire who has to actively resist the urge to feed on you because "your blood is... so sweet... and you're so... enticing... just a taste, please..."

or not! who knows ehe <3

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 CWS : 」 A little suggestive due to the intimate nature of blood drinking, but nothing sexual or even leading up to any sexual activity happens. That being said, if ur bothered by Wrio finding the reader tasting delicious + Reader enjoying being drank from a lot, maybe dont read;;; this is 2k words of non-sexual intimacy and love and trust !!

I have a confession;;;; I really really really love the vampire x human trope,,,,,, even just a teeny tiny bit more than I do the werewolf x human trope,,,, so,,,,, SO,,,,,,,,,, vamp! Wrio is setting all kinds of good signals off in my brain rn;;;;;;; i have;;;;;; many;;;;; many thoughts;;;; ON MY HANDS AND KNEES DONT LET THIS FLOP PLS 💔💔💔

You're on his lap. Wriothesley's on his chair, hands practically clawing into the armrests. You wouldn't be surprised if he'd rip it. His eyes don't know where to look— they flit around every inch of his office, avoiding your own. But they always end up glancing back at your neck no matter how much he tries to pry them away.

He gulps.

"You're hungry."

"I'm not," he immediately denies, ignoring the way his fangs ache at just being able to smell your blood so close.

You frown. "You haven't eaten in a week, Wrio."

"I have—"

"Animal blood doesn't count. That shit can only work for so long, and you know it."

He swallows, hands clenching even tighter, nails digging into leather armrests. He looks away from you, rendered silent.

You watch him as how he tries to ignore you. Delicately, you place a hand on his cheek, urging his eyes back to meet yours.

"Why don't you just ask me?" You murmur. "You know I'd say yes. You know I'd do anything for you."

His face twists. "That's the problem," Wriothesley says bitterly, teeth clenched. Even from here, from the limited view you have past the curl of his lip, you see how his sharp fangs gleam. "I— if I drink from you, I won't want anything else. Ever. I already have a hard enough time just being around you, but if i get even just a taste..." he trails off, swallowing. "You're all I'm going to crave, sweetheart."

Wriothesley expects you to pause or hesitate. Maybe even extract yourself from him. He wouldn't blame you. Ever since the first time his thoughts betrayed him and he wondered what you'd taste like on his tongue (honey and nectar and heaven and ambrosia, all in one) he's been so careful to hide how he hungers for you, lest you think he's a monster who'd hurt you for his own gain.

In an ideal world, you never would have had to see him like this— starving, thirsting. Every single cell in his body urging him to get on his knees and beg you for just a taste. He'd get the fear and the apprehension, even though it'd crack a little piece of his cold, unbeating heart.

But you just roll your eyes and unbutton the collar of your shirt. leaning down so the side of your neck is right within his sight. His mouth dries as the thump of your pulse comes ever closer, freezing him in place.

"You're not going to hurt me," you say, conviction in your voice. You inch closer.

Wriothesley feels another part of his self restraint collapse.

Against his better judgement, he's actually thinking about it now. He crumbled so fast that it might be a little pathetic, he knows. Maybe his mind is addled from the hunger, maybe he's addled by his hunger for you, but he knows that he's fraying with every millisecond that you spend so close.

"No, not— not there," He protests quietly, even though he's itching to reach out and sink his teeth into your pulse. Fuck, you smell delicious up close. He's damn near losing his mind here, the object of his love and the greatest temptation to his gluttony practically sitting on his lap, offering up something that he's craved for so long. Still, he gathers what bits and pieces of his restraint that he can and manages to gently nudge you back, just enough that he can think without being driven mad by the idea of his mouth on your neck.

The protest is already ready on your tongue, but he takes a gentle hold of your wrist instead, pressing a kiss to the tips of each finger. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the skin, and the pulse under his fingers makes the emptiness in his stomach increases tenfold.

"Here," he tells you. "It'll be easier to push me away if you need to."

You say nod, pushing your wrist closer to his mouth. "Drink up," you tell him. He pushes away his hesitation, and with one last lingering kiss, he presses his mouth to your wrist and bites.

And fuck, he was right.

Heaven and sunlight and euphoria bursts on his tongue, making his brain practically short circuit. Wriothesley concludes then and there that compared to you, anything and everything else he's ever tasted was bland in comparison. He can barely even attempt to describe it— with each drop you willingly give, his hunger is both sated and amplified. A sound escapes him, a mix between a groan and a whimper muffled into your skin.

When you hum, warm fingers carding through his hair and urging him to take more, he feels like he ascends. Acting on instinct, his arm snakes around your middle to hold you in place— to keep you close. His grip on you is firm, but he's careful not to dig his fingers too hard into your skin.

And as much as this is affecting him, it's affecting you too. Your head grows light in the best way possible, like you're experiencing a euphoric high. You scratch a bit harder at his scalp, pulling a desperate noise from his lips that makes you tremble in his hold. You'll sit here for as long as he needs to feel better, for as long as he needs you.

Quicker than you would have wanted, Wriothesley reluctantly pulls away. By then the color's only just started to come back to his face and he's panting like he's been on a brisk jog. He looks much less sickly, yes, but you observe with a frown that he's still not quite yet at tip-top shape.

Hesitantly, almost reverently, he presses a kiss to the wound on your wrist, then gives the smallest of licks. it tingles, but after a moment the sting of it fades to a dull throb, and then nothing. But before he can push you off, you're leaning down again, same position as before, with your neck in his line of view. An open invitation.

"You need to drink more," you murmur. You try to ignore the rush of blood in your face, the tingle in your core. For as much as he was scared of getting addicted to you, you fear now you're getting addicted to him, too.

"I shouldn't," Wriothesley says, barely above a whisper.

He should push you off— should let you rest. Should wrap you in his coat and get you some water and a snack after you've already let him drink so much of you.

It had been hard enough to resist earlier, but now? Your blood is pumping so hard he can practically hear it. And you taste so sweet. You had made the slightest of noises when he fed on you— he doubts you even realized it, what with the haze you were in. Just the smallest of whines when he drank from your wrist, but each breathy sigh and whisper of his name was enough to make him crave more.

A small, traitorous corner of his mind wonders if you'd be even more vocal with his teeth on your neck.

He swallows, knowing he's already fighting a losing battle. He's so, so weak for you. His one arm doesn't budge from around your waist, but his hand moves up to cup your cheek. He drags your eyes to meet his, and you can see the seriousness amidst the hunger.

"You tell me if anything hurts." Wriothesley's arm around you tightens almost imperceptibly. "Anything. Please."

You hum, happy, nuzzling closer into the cradle of his grip. "Okay. I know you'll stop if I ask." And oh the faith you have in him has heat pooling in his gut and a foreign pressure grow behind his eyes.

His voice is hoarse he says, "Yeah sweetheart. Of course I will."

He comes close and you shift your head, giving him more space to work. First thing he does isn't even bite— he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, decorating your skin with kisses and licks and nips, delighting in the small protest of 'that tickles!' that he elicits from you.

You let him shower you in affection a little bit more, but eventually your hand works into his hair, tugging. "Okay, no more stalling," you say, breathless. "C'mon, time to eat."

And he's still nervous of taking too much— can feel his stomach roil at just the thought of hurting you, but he trusts you. Trusts you as much as you trust him, too. So he takes another deep breath, presses one last tender kiss to your skin, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

A small whisper of him name escapes our throat just as a groan leaves him because fuck— you taste even better. Flavor multiplied times what feels like a hundred, making his cold cold heart do flips and tricks in his chest. The hand you bury in his hair tugs, pulls, but brings him closer instead of away. You push him further into you, begging him to take more, and he happily obliges.

Wriothesley presses kisses and licks to your neck between drinking down mouthfuls, making sure not to waste a single drop. He's pulling you against his chest so tightly— hand bunched in the back of your top that you fear he might rip the fabric, but you decide that you don't really care if he does.

With each drink he takes, each satisfied, muffled noise that leaves him, you feel yourself melt more and more against him until you're boneless in his hold. Despite how he drinks as if it's his last, he still has the good mind to shift you a bit higher in his lap, to make sure he's holding you comfortably. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip, and he tries to recline back into his seat as much as he can so you can lean into him.

Your heart pounds even harder, the blood rushing to your ears, and you think he feels it with the way his hunger seems to double.

Your eyes are half-lidded, gaze hazy and growing sleepy with each progressive second. But it doesn't hurt in the slightest. You feel warm, if anything— warm and happy that you were able to help him, and make sure he's well.

He's slowing a little. His hunger finally abating and making way for something more tender and soft. You scratch his scalp lovingly and lean your head against his. A sweet, sleepy kiss pressed to his temple makes his pace falter.

Wriothesley soon separates himself from your neck, pressing a kiss and a kitten lick to your newest wound. Like the one on your wrist, it tingles for just a bit before any stinging or pain vanishes entirely.

"Hey baby," he murmurs, pulling away slightly to look at your face, but making sure his arm is still wrapped around you. To keep you steady, to remind you that he's here. He smiles a little at your happy, dazed expression, but even now you can see the lingering worry. "You with me?"

You respond with a hum, nodding as best as you can. "Yeah. 'm okay."

Wriothesley laughs a little, watching you stumble over your words. He lets you fall flat against his chest with you head hanging on his shoulder and cradles you against him. One hand goes to twine your fingers with his, desperate to hold you as much as he can, and the other snugly tucks your head under his chin. In his embrace, you feel the beat of your heart gradually slow back to a calm. It leaves you boneless and tired, the crash of it all finally hitting you and making your eyelids flutter.

"That's good." You can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. "Did anything hurt at all, honey?"

You shake your head. Too tired to look up at him, so you squeeze his hand instead. A kiss is pressed to the apple of his throat. "Nothing. I'm just tired, 's all. I'm fine."

He holds you closer, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good. Thank you, my love. Let's get you something to eat and drink, then we sleep— how does that sound?"

You just hum your agreement, limbs feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second. Wriothesley places a kiss to the crown of your head. With utmost gentleness, he cradles you in his arms as he stands, trying not to jostle you as he makes his way out of the room.

"I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs, heart growing three sizes in his chest, arms full of the most precious thing in his world.

You bury yourself further into him. "Love you more, Wrio."

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[cydanite]

"You remember that you are a distinct being with a finite form and a mortal body."

!!SPOILERS for the ending of StP!!

Concept sketch for my interpretation of Slay the Princess’s protagonist. I like the canon vagueness of his design, but I came up with a concept I wanted to explore c:

He has 2 pairs of wings, one on his head and one on his back. The "Narrator", in trapping him, clipped his wings and disguised them as hair and a cloak. Best to not to give any reminder that flying out of the woods is even an option.

The smaller pair wrap around his head like hair, the few remaining primaries folding over each other as bangs. On the “thumb” of the wings are birds feel, decoratively chained together. Don’t be fooled into thinking that chain isn’t meant to hold, though.

The larger pair drapes limply off his shoulders like a cloak. It’s fastened by an X shape. You know the one, when people are lazy with drawing medieval clothing (myself included) we use it as a closure, a formless cross drawstring. You don’t question it when you see it. You wouldn’t suspect it’s two massive metal staples puncturing his flesh.

He can’t see his wings for what they are, so he doesn't feel through them. Not until he can manage to remember...

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(also i wrote a snippet hehe)

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The Narrator: The pain is threefold.

First comes stiffness, an ancient ache creeping in from the edge of your perception.

Awareness of this newfound sensation latches on to your mind and pulls, quickly fracturing into a sprawling map of new body parts.

It’s your hair. It hurts, in ways hair shouldn't be able to hurt. Every fiber protests against you despite being just hair mere moments ago.

The fabric of your cloak betrays you as well. You're inescapably aware of the space you now take up. New, itching, uncomfortable, ugly sensations form all down your back.

Voice of the Hero: It's like we just regained blood circulation there. We're being stabbed a thousand times over.

The Narrator: It doesn't end there. Injuries that previously gone unnoticed now make themselves known. You recall running sharp fingers through your hair. Only now can you feel the dried blood. You would've taken better care of that cloak if you'd known it was made up of you.

Voice of the Hero: But what's happening to us?

The Narrator: The web of pain maps out its shape. Two pairs of feathered wings become part of your body once again.

Voice of the Hero: 'Once again'... having wings makes sense, I suppose. But how could we have forgotten this? It seems so inescapable now.

The Narrator: But as you go to reign motor over your limbs once again, the third pain rears it’s ugly head… cold, harsh metal digs into your flesh.

It pins your limbs in their poses. A tiny set of cuffs pull small wings taught around the circumference of your head.

The closure of your "cape" is two enormous staples, staked through your flesh and clamped down hard. There's no blood here, the wound long since healed.

...Who or whatever did this to you, it was never intended to be removed.

Voice of the Hero: Maybe we should keep more vigilant in the future. If we can't trust our own body... I don't want to think about it more than we have to.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I think that during the first and second wars Death Eaters did attack Muggles, but nothing so extreme that it would make Muggle headlines. It seems like when it comes to attacking Muggles Voldemort kept the Death Eaters on a tighter leash than when they would attack their fellow wizards and witches.

Why do you think that is? I can imagine a fair few Death Eaters itching for the chance to really let loose and go on a rampage, to break the Statute and show the Muggles just how "inferior" they are. Why do you think Voldemort kept them mainly focused on the Wizarding World?

I think it might be because, growing up during the Second World War and especially during the Blitz, Voldemort knows just how dangerous Muggles really are, something that the Death Eaters truly don't get at all. Muggles have waged war on such a destructive scale that the Wizarding World never has, which Voldemort has seen first-hand.

I already talked about it here and here, and you're right. During the first war, Voldemort clearly kept more of a leash on his Death Eaters — both when attacking muggles and fellow wizards. The only wizards that seemed to be free reign for the Death Eaters to attack were those affiliated with the Order of the Phoenix, and even then he only allowed them to be killed really towards the end of the war from 1979.

And I think that's because he doesn't really want a lot of people dead. Like, he's not a good guy, he won't mind if some died, but Voldemort consistently tries to avoid what he considers unnecessary casualties, both magical and muggle.

In the second war, his patterns change somewhat since his goal is different. As I talked about here. He no longer just wants to distract the ministry with war while he does his thing, he wants to kill Harry Potter. Because that's his sole focus, he isn't nearly as involved (He is so uninvolved in his own government takeover Umbridge can walk around with Slytherin's locket and claim it as her family heirloom without dying a torturous death) and the first chapter in HBP shows how that effects the muggle casualties:

How on earth was his government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough on bridges. The bridge was fewer than ten years old, and the best experts were at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below. And how dare anyone suggest that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very nasty and well-publicized murders? [The murders were Vance and Bones, both witches] Or that the government should have somehow foreseen the freak hurricane in the West Country that had caused so much damage to both people and property?

(HBP)

The Death Eaters clearly attack muggles in the second war when Voldy just isn't there to tell them no. Yes, the two outright murderers were of witches, but the bridge collapse and the hurricane clearly hurt and killed muggles.

So, in the first war, yeah, Voldy didn't want to cause unecessaariy death among both muggles and wizards. In the second war, he cared way less about keeping his Death Eaters in line, but, still, when given the chance, when he was on the scene, he did limit them:

You have fought,” said the high, cold voice, “valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. “Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. “Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. “You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

(DH)

Yes, he is ready to kill each and every one of them if it means he gets what he wants (killing Harry Potter) but Voldemort wishes to avoid unnecessary death, both magical and muggle:

He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away. . . . Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH)

Voldemort lets muggle kids go after they saw him because their deaths aren't necessary. He thinks of himself as merciful. He doesn't kill without a reason and when he's around, he forces his followers to obay his own moral code.

But I don't think it has anything to do with him fearing muggles. I don't think he's too concerned with the well-being and secrecy of the wizarding population. Voldemort doesn't really care for ruling and would likely not lift a finger to help wizards if muggles found them out and decided to nuke them. I don't think he'd care enough to do something.

Like, he won't kill someone when he doesn't have a reason to, but he won't save someone if he doesn't have a reason to either.

Like, I think Voldemort is wary of muggles and would rather not reveal wizards to them, but I don't think that's his top concern in how he manages his Death Eaters. Because while he is wary, he does look down on muggles and thinks they would just never figure it out because they're too stupid (he thinks the same about most wizards, tbh). So, I don't think that's a big part of his motivation on why he avoids muggle casualties.

[thithesandofferings]

Title: Be-comings of Ardor- pt. 3

Synopsis: Raian is tired of waiting.

Tags: 18+ MDNI. Choking. Raian being nasty as per usual. Masturbation. PnV Fem! Reader, whos absolutely obsessed with Raian.

Authors Note: Tumblr made me repost this twice and im so heated. Thank you @hoe4rairai for the gif because they wouldnt let me do anything else... This was supposed to just be practice but- yknow some things dont always pan out that way

Part 1

Part 2

"C'mon- take my cock Master" He sneers. Its mocking and it only makes you clench tighter. "Cant-fuck- thought you could take me" Raian grins maniacally when he fucks roughly into you at the same pace as your hiccuping cries. Its about time he got you to shut up. All those desperate looks and stupid fucking questions just to have you exactly where you belong. Underneath him. Worshiping him with your tight wet cunt.

"All that big bad hero talk and now you're whining in my pillow"

"Hips up, I want to dig deeper into whats fucking mine. C'mon" He's laughing gleefully as he fucks into you, hips bruising from the force of his cocking driving into you. "You said 'please' so take what i fucking give you".

You dont know how much you can take, he's already come inside you more times than you care to count. Heated and slick and gushing out of you in embarrassing squelches, but you still hold your hips higher for more. No matter how badly they're shaking.

"I know" Raian mockingly coos "Is it starting to hurt? Hm? My Master having a hard time taking her demons cock? You want a break?" You cant even consciously nod before he's yanking you up against his chest and pounding you harder. He's holding you by your throat, keeping you upright. You're useless to try and do anything else. Warmth pulsing around him at his words. Doesn't help that he's right. And that you want him to keep going.

"Asking all those stupid-shit you're tight" fucking questions" He's growling as he moves your bodily so easily the way he wants, pressing you back down into the bed and holding your neck firm as he grounds into your g-spot. Laughing over your sobbing

"It's what you get for blue balling me all this time. You know what you did- so you'll be punished for it. Be grateful that your cunt even gets my cock"

Maybe you shouldn't have teased him for so long.

It starts small. Things of this nature usually do. Pieces of puzzles clicking and echoing in victory when they are launched into each other. It makes sense. Those pieces. For you and your demon are one in the same now. Hearts synced to beat together no matter location or time. It slows when you drift off to a dreamless slumber, and very nearly beats out of your bones when it trips over itself to catch needed blood flow. All you can think of is him. Every waking moment catches the scent of his ash. Makes the words clog through your throat when he walks pass. Tongue heavy with an itch that needs to feel- to taste.

You think at some points he very well may be able to read your mind. But it wouldn't be surprising when your souls are encapsulated to one another. The heated looks begin, and for days you feel scorched and burned. It wouldn't be so bad if you didn't return them in tenfold. You are unashamed at your desperate perusal over his body whenever you get the chance. Though you don't say much and you're strong enough to not need protection, when you do ask him things- it gets his blood bowling. His cock throbs when you look up at him and ask if he can open a fucking jar.

You? A human that has murdered countless of your kind just to greedily get your hands on him. You ask, pretty and pouting when you look up at him, if he can open a jar of pickles for you. Knowing that if you squeeze lightly, you could break the whole jar. It nearly makes him want to bend you over the counter, fuck that cute expression of faux helplessness into sobbing cries of his name. He doesn't care if there are onlookers. Let them see the demon claim his prize.

But he wont do it just yet, he wants to see what his quiet little master will do. Wants to see if you'll beg for it.

You didn't know why you were teasing Raian. He was in fact, a literal demon. But you couldn't seem to get passed the power trip of you having a practical shadow by your side. After the match you two were pretty inseparable. He was just a hair breath a way at all times. Except when you slept. Raian practically let no one touch you on the battlefield. Or anywhere really. The growling would begin and the heat would start to permeate through his hands. And you were not pressed to stop him. The Kure clan hardly gave you looks anymore and they practically ran to get out your way. And you're perfectly fine with that. Even getting closer to him just so you can have your piece and quiet.

It becomes a problem. Him. Raian. He becomes a problem. An insufferable tease. Passing by you so closely, just so you can feel him drag his weighted length against your back. Doesn't even say excuse me. You find that you don't want him to. He's a dick to you, but that really is just part of his nature, not something you can help when you're one of the most powerful demons on Earth. He makes you feel dirty for just staring at him. Especially because you know that he knows how much you want him.

You find that at night its keeping you awake. Heart racing, but you know its not your doing. Its his. You can hear him through your shared wall. One forced upon you once you got the demon. You hear the heated hiss and growl. Hitting his head on the wall when you know he's grabbed his cock tight. Slick sounds permeating both your rooms. He's vicious, talking to you through the wall. Knowing you're listening. "cant wait till i get my hands on that little cunt of yours" "Been practically begging me with those stupid eyes" "I'm going to fuck you into the ground, but i wanna hear you beg before you do it"

You don't really help your case, especially when you whine against his groans. Clenching your thighs when he talks like that. No one has ever spoken to you so disgusting before. So ashamedly. You've never had someone want you to this degree. You shouldn't be so excited about this prospect, but you were never the most sane to begin with.

When you finally get up the courage to go to the demon, he's talking to some of his clan members. You stand there, staring at the purpling veins clinging to muscle under his skin. Blonde hair damp from one of the fights he'd been in. Perusing and devouring his figure so greedily, you don't care if anyone notices. He's mid sentence, giving instructions that make your tummy quake, when you utter the word please.

The archaic demon freezes at your soft utter, you cant tell if the followers even heard you. He shoves them out of the way just to come as close as possible, chests touching and it almost scares you. How much his smile is so wide its cracking his face, his eyes turning red in the need to devour.

He quick to grab your face, you dont even try to stop it. You're tired of waiting.

"Knew it'd be a matter of time before you fucking begged for it."

[angstflayer-council]

July Drabble #7- Breaking Like Dawn

He's warm.

That's the first thing Steve notices as he slowly comes to, almost like swimming through molasses. It's not how he usually wakes up these days. Since the accident, Steve can't remember sleeping more than three hours at a time, always waking up with a start, drenched in sweat, panting, shaking. Even though he can't remember them, he knows he has nightmares.

This time, however, his body is heavy and comfortable, his heartbeat slow and steady. He can see the bright light of a new day through his closed eyelids, and it takes him a moment to realize what it means. He slept through the night. Inexplicably, this makes his nose itch, and his eyes burn.

Taking a few soothing breaths, he slowly opens his eyes and lets the world come into focus. Sunlight comes from a large window slightly to his right. He has no recollection of ever having been here before, but no fear accompanies this thought. There's just this heavy feeling, like there's lead in his veins instead of blood, as his eyes wander over the unfamiliar walls and furniture. It looks cluttered, lived in, and real in a way that his sterile designer loft decidedly does not.

A rustling sound draws his eyes to the floor in front of the sofa, where a mop of dark brown curly hair, frazzled and wild, is peeking over the edge of the cushions, the angle blocking Steve's view.

Steve moves silently, careful not to wake whoever is sitting there as he tries to get a better look. With his elbow under him, he slowly pushes himself up, just enough to look down at the sleeping face.

It's breathtaking, a study in juxtaposition. Prominent nose, bridge straight, tip wide and round. Long, dark lashes kiss high cheekbones. Plush pink lips add unexpected softness to a face that could easily be all edges and sharp lines. Something stirs in the back of his mind as the warm golden glow of the early day paints shadows across the hills and valleys of those lovely features.

Another room, another morning, the same beautiful face bathed in soft light. The same fascination, a fluttering feeling in his stomach that he can't, won't, examine.

A memory resurfaces, once buried deep, rising like the sun.

"I dunno, you're the boss's son, I don't want any trouble."

"You saying I'm not worth a little trouble, Munson?"

"I'm saying a quick fuck is not worth risking my job for, Harrington."

"Awww, who says it has to be quick? Gonna take my sweet time with you."

Those lips against his. On his neck, his thigh, his cock.

His own lips moaning a name. Eddie.

Him waking up to the sight of this man in his bed, sheets tangled between his legs, body covered in bruises, bite marks, red streaks left by fingernails.

"You should leave."

"But -"

"You don't want anyone to tell my father, do you?"

Well, fuck.

[uranianshivers]

Hello!! Hope you’re doing okay! I’m so glad I found another good twst wonderland author 🥺

I read the rules and I’m not sure whether this is okay or not, but could I please have Dorm Leaders (or just Riddle, Vil, Idia and Malleus if it’s too much) with a magical girl s/o? Pronouns she/her please! Like she transforms with a magical accessory, i just think it would be so funny while, in the middle of an overblot, reader’s like “oh, well ig this is where I come in!” And then just transforms. And because nobody knew she was a magical girl, they’re all staring in disbelief. Comedy + Fluff please <3

sorry for the huge word dump, take your time with this!! Make sure to take care of yourself :3

thank you!!

Hi! I'm glad that you liked what I write, I appreciate your words and I hope you like this! (Also I will add Hcs and a little scenario for the overblot part thanks to I didn't understandt if you wanted an one-shot or just headcanons, also sorry if this is short, I run out of ideas)

Warnings: use of female pronouns, mentions of injuries and blood (?).

Notes: I don't know very much about all the magic girls thing so I tried my best, pls if you find any errors make me know.

Pd: I didn't put neither Azul and Kalim because I was struggling with them)

Riddle Rosehearts

he felt like something was off with that rose you had always in your hair

Never really questionated it thought, maybe just aesthetic thing?

Really didn't matter about it, you focused in your studies, followed the rules and loved him, it was just a flower after all, right?

You looked at him in awesome, you never thinked you really needed to do this but it seems like you were wrong "with the power of mind and heart!" you shouted while everyone looked at you weirded out "is she crazy?" some students said before the petals in the rose you had all the time in your hair started to be around you and slowly your normal school uniform fade away and in place let you with a pretty red dress and the stem transformed in a long spear with a sharp tip which you holded with an iron force, surprised stares directing at you "YOU COULD DO THAT?" Ace screamed to you in deslief thinking in all the moments him, Deuce, Grim and you were in trouble and you just choose did this now, you started to give atacks of different elements fast so Riddle can focus on you while you said to your friend to atack him directly to finaly give a powerful atack fulled with magic directly to his heart.

You obviously go to comfort him after all that, he don't know if he was more stunned by all the overblot thing or the fact that you got magic power, a weapon and a whole outfit only by saying a phrase and the innocent looking rose in your hair

Definetly will ask what was that, you can use magic and no one knowed?

Why did you use it only now and not every other time you almost got killed?

You were powerful but why only now?

After all what happend the answer that you were just worried for him and actually cared for him that much to reveal that to the entire school maked his heart warm.

You two have a long conversation talking about your now not so secret identity and all what maked him overblot before (mother issues included, yes, it was very long).

Leona Kingscholar

He didn't even care about the artificial bone that were in your collar

The maximun he cared about it was when hewas hugging you when going to take a nap and that was itching his chest

Maybe asked you about it once because you carried it everytime

Ruggie was hurted and everyone was scared but you, you holded your collar tightly and putted it out, the fake bone converted in a beautiful trident and with a spin a gorgeus dress appeared on you instead of the simple school uniform "is that a trident?" Deuce asked like you didn't just transformed your whole outfit only because of an spin "So you think you're better than me?!" Leona said before trying to convert you into sand, well, this is gonna be hard to you.

You definetly got some injuries after that (probably because of trying to make you disapear)

"You think i'm an awful person now, don't you?"

He was curious about what the heck was that when you fighted him but was more worried about you goting injuried because of him and you hating him now.

He tried to hide how worried he was about you, he was feeling awful, his girlfriend, the person who love him not because of his status or anything to beneficiate herself injuried because of his anger.

Evitated you for a little period of time before getting the courage to speak to you and apologize to you.

Very most worried about what he has done to you more than the fact that aparently you had some type of magic that also changed your outfit, hair style and make up when you used it, there are most weird things here (Talking cat who breath fire) most probably waited for you to explain it.

Vil Schoenheit

Even whe he feeled suspicious he just thinked it was a pretty accesory.

Never really thinked so much about the apple brooch you had in your hair, probably most focused in you brushing your hair and using selfcare products correctly.

He didn't understand why you were so negative with not using it but eventually just helped you find clothes to match up with the brooch.

Everything was destroyed by his anger, his still gorgeus form floating above chaos, you tried to rasonate with him but nothing seemed to work "well, it looks like I have to go for the hard way" you said to yourself before touching the beautiful broosh two times and do a little dance, making a light purple smoke appears making you un-noticeable, students looking with a mix of confussion and fear because of the overblot. The smoke finally dissapeared after a few seconds letting everyone see you now with an purple and gold dress, a wand as beautiful as your dress being hold tightly by your hand, Vil's angry just growed by it "you dare to trying to look more fairiest than me?!" Vil screamed at you, maybe this was not the best moment to reveal it...

It was a hard fight, Vil's anger thinking you were trying to look better than him definetly difficulted more the fight.

But hey! You succesfuly winned and now you have to explain a few things to him.

Also you have to take beauty tips for not ruining your clothes while fighting, he was not gonna let you comfort him very much for a while.

"You were awesome and gorgeus in battle, my dear! But we have to change of how you do that spin when avoiding atacks"

Idia Shroud

Probably thinked the weird skull pin in your shirt was from some video game or anime.

Asked what was the name of the game or anime of your pin with that idea too.

He got a little dissapointed when you said it was just a normal pin, maybe he can show you some really cool animes with cool skull symbols.

"You know? There is this cool anime I discoveredafewagoaboutaboywhodiscoversasupercoolruinandagodoffershimtobehisrighthandandafterhegiveshimaweirdlookingthingwithmagic" yes, is with a very fast talking.

Look the good part! Idia finally got the chance to be the super cool looking powerful villain he wanted to be in sometimes, but looking at the bad part he will probably kill someone in that state, you guessed it was your time to shine. You touched the pin and with a spin your uniform got transformed into lightly cyber themed clothes and blue tinted shades appeared, it wasn't the best for when you have to identify a color but you didn't have to do that now tho "Y/N don't touch the blue thing!" Ace yelled at you, dammit, you were already having problems with beating your boyfriend and this didn't help.

So... Uhm... This is awkward, you were comforting him while he was struggling with understanding what happened with you.

"So it's like the animes?" "Yes, Idia, it's like the animes"

Still trying to understandt while you tried to communicate with him.

You finally could comfort him and got him venting after explaining how it worked all the magical girl thing.

A few days after that you heared "Yes! And she had this super cool glowing blue smoke around her and- What?! I am not lying!" when he was talking with his online friends.

Malleus Draconia

You have this necklace with a dragon in it, do not expect him to not ask.

"It has some meaning?" "where did you get it? " "it involves some tradition in your world?" "why a dragon and not a bat for example?" "why..." "how?" "where-" "who?" "when..."

He is curious about his girlfriend, don't blame him.

Probably finded out what is the function of it even before you had the oportunity to tell him but never telled you he knowed.

It was a while since he overbloted, nothing seemed to work. Lilia, Sebek, Silver and you already tried to talk with him but he simply didn't listen, many of the students were hurt and many also had fear, including you, he was one of the most powerlful mages after all, luckily he hasn't killed anyone yet, the circumstances maked you take a decision, you got off the necklace "Victory shall be mine" you whispered to yourself and lights started to glow off the little dragon in your hand and when everyone getted the vision back which was taked away because of the light they could see you wearing gorgeus black and green clothes, a proud dragon made of rock in the tip of your trident "HUMAN YOU COULD DO THAT AND YOU DO IT NOW?!?!" Sebek with a bandage in his arm yelled at you, you had to explain to more than one person apparently.

It was very hard, you admmited it, you even got injuries because of the fight! Maybe you should keep putting that bandage in your leg, you don't wanted to clean blood after all that.

He already knew so he wasn't that surprised.

You had to listen and comfort him for like 2 hours after he screamed to you worried about if you were hurt only to him saying "you were gorgeus!" after crying in your shoulder for 1 hour straight.

"Wait, you knew?" "of course I knew! You're my girlfriend" you had more questions than him probably.

You probably had to sleep with him, he didn't want you to get more hurt while he wasn't at your side.

»»————> sorry for the waiting! I had a creativity block, I hope you liked it even with the long waiting.

[hlficlibrary]

Hello hello! I was wondering if we had any Larry fics where it’s interview with a vampire-ish? Thank you in advance!!! X

Hi, anon! You're welcome! Unfortunately, I couldn't find any Interview With a Vampire AUs. I tried to find some with maybe some similar vibes in some way. So here's what I came up with...

Run and I'll Give Chase by orphan_account

“You go out every night and maybe you’re able to drink without hurting anyone, but you’re still thirsty, aren’t you? Still have an itch you can’t scratch. A need you can’t put a name to. You desire a companion.”

“You mean a keeper?” Harry corrects with venom in his voice. “Someone to put a leash on me.”

“Wouldn’t need a leash, love.” Louis whispers sensually, and he is suddenly behind Harry, too fast for his eyes to keep track of. “You’re practically pliant just by being in my presence. Of course, if you’re into that sort of thing, I could always get you a lovely collar with a matching leash once you decide to take me up on my offer.”

Or, Harry is a fledgling vampire without a maker. Louis is graciously offering to fill that role.

Soaked In The Blood Of Angels by whoknows

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape.

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago.

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

Can I just be the same? by Star_Henderson

“Are you skint?” Louis studied his face. “I can give you the bloody bus fare home, Harry. You don't have to walk.” His voice was soft. Caring.

Harry stopped, his body tingling. Fuck. He shouldn’t have crossed the road. Keep walking. Always keep walking.

“I’m not skint, but thanks for the offer. There’s not many kind people like you around. You’re lovely, you know that?” Harry reached his hand out tentatively, cupping Louis’ elbow and squeezing. “Thank you.” His voice hitched a little.

He’d roamed the country for centuries, coming in and out of people’s lives, never able to forge bonds. Or, if he did, breaking them and suffering the pain of lost love. That was his life forever. Stuck in this limbo with not one other person in the whole world who cared about him. So the kindness of a stranger really hit home, and this stranger with the bluest eyes and brightest smile was making Harry feel alive again. Reminding him of what he was missing

OR Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

[hel-phoenyx]

Oli is @thal-ent's character and Kaizarz @corneille-but-not-the-author's

Wing cleaning duty is quite the mandatory task when you know Oli these many years. It can happen very quickly, because of unexpected rain, some beastmenphobic idiots throwing them mud on their face or just some teasing remark earning them a little seawater shower.

In the last case, I'm often the one in charge of the very important duty. Really, the situation is ironic. Shutting down vicious mockery takes you like ten seconds, to earn a dozen or two minutes of calm, and then you need to spend four hours on preening bullshit.

You're lucky you mean a lot to me, Oli. Genuinely.

I sit down, and starts cleaning the feathers. They're soft under all the salt and the water, even if it doesn't stop me to litteraly feel them itch. While they're drenched, Oli is still kinda in my domain, so my senses toward her own sensations are heightened.

I really gotta control this.

Close my heart to everything outside so I can't let myself hurt or be hurt again.

Oli's wings shudder when I go to the primaries. Sensitive part, I guess.

"Hey, you're better at this than I thought."

I sigh.

"Be careful, Oli, I just started. Nothing is stopping me to drench you again."

"Com'on, Tyr, that was a compliment."

I once regretted letting them, all of them, use that nickname. It was not theirs. I thought it will never be. Today, it's somewhat comforting.

I let myself smile a little bit.

"You're not the only beastperson I know..."

Knew.

"So I had experience. My hand is not too much of a handicap in this situation."

"Good, good. Wouldn't want you to spend the day preening my feathers, you wingwetting bully."

They stick their tongue toward me, enough so I can see the tattoo. I always wondered why so many marking on their skins, but I never asked. I'm not much of a curious person anyway.

Me, at least. I can see Oli has something on their mind. Their wings are shivering in some emotion I can't itnerpret, and their face is crisped in pensive worry. I have an idea of the question she's gonna ask, and of course, I'm not dissapointed.

"I never asked you how you lost it ?"

"Because you knew I wasn't gonna answer."

They laugh.

"Good point. But seriously, Tyr, only thing I know from that day is Kaizarz fetching the doctors. I'll never forget his expression. I thought... I thought someone died."

"Maybe someone did, who knows ?"

"Com'on, don't joke with that, it's not funny."

I'm not joking, Oli.

But those are words I am not able to say. Not yet. Not while I have to endure the shame and the pain. My honor, shattered in pieces. My childhood, drowned in sorrow. Everything I believed in, tainted in blood.

The silence is enough of an answer for my dearest rukkorn friend. They shrug, let me move onto the wingpit. This place always accumulate a lot of dirt and salt, I'd better be careful.

My peace and quiet do not last long, however. Oli may ended up getting tired of the silence, or they just want to talk to me, while I can align more than three consecutive words. I've never been a talker, but ever since that event, it's been so hard just saying hello to them. I couldn't even look Kaizarz in the eyes up until not too long ago.

And then it was too late.

"Hey, Tyr, there's something else I wanted to ask you."

"Hm ?"

"You went to the Tournament for Glory, right , How was it ?"

I don't think they're asking that question without any hidden thought. Out of all of us, I am the only one that could go. And it was because I regained some fighting ability, enough to defend my sovereign, even if my former level was the one of a genius.

I could have reach death battles and all of them know it. So, I suppose they're several reasons behind that question, and not all of them are about Kaizarz.

Still, it is too personal to answer.

"It was... Something."

"Aw. Nothing else ?"

"You're on dangerous grounds, Oli."

They laugh again.

"Look at him being all-mysterious. Come oooooooon, Tyr, I had Kaizarz' point of view but he doesn't talk much these days, he's too occupied with the war and you're always free since you lost your hand, I want your point of view, please tell meeee~"

My point of view ?

Mine ?

I could tell you everything about how I saw a man vanquish a dozen enemies in a fraction of second before laughing with me at the festival. I could tell you the story of how a double-sided axe almost killed the Khan of Khans before the wielder, the victor shook his hand in respect. I could tell you about a god's might and the one that never yielded, that landed a hit on the Herald of End of Times.

What's so interesting about my point of view ?

What so interesting about a pile of books with taboo subjects, laughs inbetween battles and the warmth of two hands taking mine at different times. Harmless jokes and alcohol that loosen up my tongue and the sun in my eyes and a back turned towards me. My throat hurting and the sun kissing my burning cheeks and words I never deserved, I'll never deserve. A hug behind a tent and words that would forever mark me because I hold them true in my heart there's no world we I can ever be happy.

What's so interesting

About me ?

[fixomnia-scribble]

For @smittywing! Since we're sharing unpublished Criminal Minds snippets, here are Prentiss and Morgan, in December Season 7, getting gently toasted and trying to reconcile their friendship with Emily's undercover past. Derek interrogates, Emily rambles, Clooney snores in the corner.

December 18, 2011

They were drinking again, looking out over a slushy December night in Virginia. Morgan's place, because while Sergio was content with his box, Clooney couldn't wait. They’d taken Clue for a chilly walk, letting the dog amble at will and set the pace, while Emily told him stories about the haute doggy culture of Paris. And then, back home, Morgan had spun the cap off a half bottle of scotch and tossed it somewhere behind a desk.

“Sergio can hang tight until morning,” Morgan reminded her. In case she needed to talk and drink all night, and crash somewhere she didn’t have to keep one eye open.

"Nah, I do have to get home sometime tonight," Emily said. Lightly glowing on her second dose of two and a half fingers in a comfortably heavy glass tumbler, she stretched her toes for the mohair blanket over the arm of the couch, and pulled it towards her. "And I need to spend time with my boy. Garcia's stolen his fickle feline heart away. But this is good for now. Really good. Thanks."

She rubbed a careful palm over the top of her chest, under cover of tugging the blanket up over herself.

"You've been scratching again." Morgan told her, from his easy chair near the window. He’d never ask her to sit with her back to a window or a room, ever.

"I know I've been scratching again."

The brand was worse than the surgery site below. At least she could be careful, and scratch delicately around the tender skin, while she was awake. Even if she managed to resist the subcutaneous phantom itch of burned nerves, during the day, she still woke up some mornings with blood smears on her sheets and under her nails, and another patch of angry new scab. So much for proper aftercare. But then, getting branded on her poor left boob was hardly a body mod she would have chosen.

"Anyone touches you here, you'll think of me," he'd said, calmly and coldly, as her flesh smoldered under the iron's tip. He wasn't doing this for enjoyment. This was a means to an end. She was only a safe to be cracked. Until she cracked him, instead.

That's when he saw her clearly again, and set about killing her.

"You could get it fixed, you know, Em. Plastic surgery." Morgan reminded her.

"It would probably hurt more. Plus, I'd lose more sensation and a patch of skin from somewhere else. I think I'm going to let it stay. Bastard did a decent job, all things considered. Maybe I'll get it tattooed, make it my own. Think that'd be hot?"

"Tough girl." he returned, unfooled.

"It's mostly bullshit." she admitted. "You didn't see what a mess I was in Paris, when I had nothing to do but think and drink. But my past is part of me. I don't want to pretend anymore about who I was. Scars and all."

"You never had to."

"Yeah, I did. You would, too, if you'd been doing that kind of work. Derek, I was in deep cover. International covert ops cover. The kind you're never supposed to admit, even fifty years later. Trust - " she shook her head and lifted her scotch for a sip. "Trusting you had nothing to do with it. I trust you with my life. You held my life in your hands and wouldn't let go. I would do the same for you. God forbid it happen, but I would. But I couldn't speak about it. I still can't tell you everything we got done, how many conflicts we prevented before they had a chance to flare up. Even if it might help you understand..."

She heard Morgan sigh, and shake his head, leaning over his scotch. He was trying hard. Which spoke volumes about the respect that had grown between them in the relatively short time they'd known each other, and how deeply he'd let her into his guarded inner circle. 

Of them all, Morgan and Reid were having the hardest time adjusting to her reappearance, she knew. Morgan, because he so rarely gave his trust, and Reid, because he trusted too easily. Reid was alarmed and confused and ashamed of his reactions to the whole bleak scenario. Her death, having to admit and learn to navigate his overwhelming grief, and now her reappearance. Of all the team, Reid was the one who needed to know he had some bedrock under his feet, in order to function in the world. 

She'd try to get through to Reid soon. Probably somewhere in the open, where he could get up and walk away if he needed to, and not feel trapped or obligated to talk. Soon. Tonight was about mending fences with Morgan.

"Did Hotch know?" he asked, refilling his scotch. "There must've been some gaps in your resume."

"He knew I was undercover with the CIA, and he confirmed the dates I gave him with the Agency. He never probed farther than that." She managed a smile. "He did ask me how many languages I spoke. When I asked him if he meant idiomatically, academically, or just enough to cuss someone out, he shut me up."

"I guess being your mama's daughter had some uses after all."

"Yup." she raised her eyebrows and blew out a breath. "But you know - the more I think about it, the more I think Lauren kicked ass, and I don't mind remembering her. She stopped a terrorist from engaging in more than a few major raids, and made him think it was his decision. She never once broke cover. She kept a little boy from harm in the middle of hell, and put him in a safe place. And Dec…Derek, even in that insane world, Declan trusted us. We all kept him so safe, and gave him so much love, that it never occurred to him not to trust us. He let me..."

A small tremor started in her hands, and she set her glass on the coffee table before rolling onto her side, and tucking herself deeper under the blanket.

"He was only four, and he trusted me so much that he let me hold a gun to his head and spray pig blood all over his face and hair. All I told him was that we had to pretend he'd been in an accident, so that a really mean man wouldn't try to hurt him or his father. I told him it was like making a scary Hallowee'en movie to scare the man off. Louise was too frightened to say a word. I think she wondered if I was going to kill them both, no matter what I said."

The tremor set in deeper, creeping up her arms and through her middle, and she pulle up her knees and crossed her arms and pinned her hands in her armpits to stop it.

Morgan did not miss this. He didn’t comment upon it. "I think I just got something I needed to get," he said, leaning forward. "Prentiss, I'll tell you straight up, I was pretty shocked. Not that you'd been working at that level, but where you let it take you. Not just into Doyle's business, but - "

"Into his bed." she said flatly.

"See, I know you. I know you'll use whatever you can to fight a good fight, but I couldn't wrap my head around that part till now. It was Declan that kept you there. Not Doyle. Not really."

"It was Declan that kept me there," she agreed. "It's not a pretty business, my friend. You get that Lauren was an arms dealer too, right? That was my in. I didn't expect him to...to offer me so much access. He wasn't psychotic. He was obsessive, hypervigilant and manipulative, but he treated the people close to him like royalty. So yeah, you can say I fucked Doyle to get into his sentimental little heart, after I got into his head. I did that. I'm hardly the first to use sex, and I won't be the last, and I saved a lot of lives by putting myself there. And it wasn't all a lie. He really treated me very well. Does that make me a whore? Or just a damn good agent? Honest to God, I don't know. I could sure as hell name my price with him. Anything I asked for. He tried to give us a good life. But yeah, if there hadn't been Declan, I don't know how much longer I'd have stayed. I'd have had to fake my death sooner or later. Ian would never, ever have let me go. But with Declan there, I was almost his...Well. He thought I was…he was so little, it only made sense to him. How would he know anything else?  But there wasn't much I wouldn't have done for him. So I stayed. Most days I just lived and breathed it all in. And occasionally reported in to my operator while I was supposed to be having my hair and nails done."

"My point is," Morgan said, slowly, "It's the mom-thing you got inside you. I've seen you go there. One of your babies is in danger, you turn mama-bear and get all eaten up inside until you know they're safe. That Kira. Honest to God, I think if her aunt hadn't been found, you really would have taken her in, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, like you and Ellie? You even had the paperwork ready to bring her across the country. I saw it. Cross-jurisdictional guardianship application, signed and witnessed. And I know she still e-mails you." Emily smiled at him, a little wet about the eyes. “That mattered, you know. Ellie knew you were fighting for her. That mattered, even if she found her home.”

"I do know. That's why I get it. I gotta be honest, I've been wrestling with the whole undercover sex thing, but you're right, it happens. I know it does. But hearing you talk about that kid - maybe it's just a handle I can wrap my head around, but I get it a little better."

"It wasn't any kind of Stockholm syndrome, you know." she cautioned him. "That’s a made-up bullshit thing some shrink came up with to get interviews. I knew what I was doing."

"Yeah, but didn’t it..." he paused. "Em, didn’t it wear on your soul? Or was it really just the job?"

"Fuck, yeah, it did. But maybe less than I'd like to admit. Women have been using sex as a power tool since the very beginning." She held his gaze. “It was a game I was trained to win and I won, Derek. D’you get that?”

“Except it wasn’t a game, and you lost nearly everything. And we lost you.”

“That’s also true. And I’m sorry for that part. Again.”

"I guess I've spent my career trying to protect women from being used like that, so it's...I just never knew anyone who...you know, worked at that level."

"High class all the way, baby." She raised her glass in a mirthless toast. Morgan didn't smile. She shook her head and tried again. "I'm sorry if it changes your opinion of me," she said. "But sometimes that's how the world is. If I hadn't consented freely and knowingly to be what Doyle wanted, he'd still be alive, there would be well-armed conflicts in parts of the world you don't even want to think about getting hot, and Declan would be training to be his successor."

"He is a pretty great kid." Morgan admitted, after a moment.

"And I hope he stays that way. At least now he has a chance."

"Tell me about Declan. From the beginning."

So she did.

[kraken17]

One quote from Wednesday Addams per every chapter of Kooky Spooky in which she has been present.

"I need you to tell me who you are and how you got here." (Chapter 1)

"From your meager words and the snippets of conversation I overheard coming here after you, you're the daughter of a version of me and a male version of Enid in another universe." (Chapter 2)

“The only thing you need to keep in mind is that an Addams is an Addams." (Chapter 3)

"It looks like our last day at Nevermore is going to be as memorable or more so than the first." (Chapter 4)

"Looks like we'll have to save the explanations for later, but you should know Eugene that Enid and I won't be attending the party tonight." (Chapter 5)

"If she had agreed to take the Addams name already instead of keeping Sinclair she would be here beside me instead of you, Barclay." (Chapter 6)

"Try to hold him, we'll need answers one way or another." (Chapter 7)

"I'm going to have to be a hero." (Chapter 8)

"I can only say that since you are the most physically perfect creature I know, it makes sense that a male counterpart of yours would also be an excellent example of virility, mia cara lupa." (Chapter 10)

"Through my veins runs blood of wolves like yours. And of Amazon cat people, Scandinavian dragons, Egyptian vampires and other unnamable things that sleep in the crypts of human memory." (Chapter 11)

"I told you to devour me, didn't I?" (Chapter 12)

"I applaud your lack of prudeness regarding our privacy, grandmother, but a knock on the door would have sufficed." (Chaptyer 13)

"Since this is your dimension and I'm the visitor maybe you should be Wednesday and I should be the one to adopt a temporary moniker." (Chapter 14)

“They are worse than rabbits, the Oryctolagus Cuniculus do not deserve such an unfair comparison." (Chapter 15)

"I'm afraid Enid is carrying a lot of stress lately. Maybe she could use a little of your company, reminisce about old times.” (Chapter 16)

"Galpin, wait!" (Chapter 17)

"It's horrifyingly delightful to see you again, Woe." (Chapter 18)

"You're not a werewolf, are you?" (Chapter 19)

 "An Addams is an Addams, no matter what universe or reality they come from. And that means that an Addams can never really harm another Addams or put them to death, no matter how extreme the act." (Chapter 20)

“I've found myself in similar situations with my Enid where she's like a spotlight of lucidity capable of dispelling all my doubts or more twisted thoughts." (Chapter 21)

"You're a creature of the night, you can withstand the itch of disinfectant." (Chapter 22)

"Those screams... Am I wrong in venturing that they were exerting some kind of psychic damage on us?" (Chapter 23)

"What is the Nevermore Society?" (Chapter 24)

"With everything that has happened all the minority groups must have been monstrously reduced and some even disappeared, but from the way you express yourselves something exceptional occurred in this case due to that third apocalyptic event." (Chapter 25)

"I wouldn't know what to tell you, she was a woman who knew how to hold a grudge very well." (Chapter 26)

"You're talking despite being completely transformed." (Chapter 27)

"Something tells me that merely ignoring your childish pretensions and waiting patiently is more likely to hurt your ego." (Chapter 28)

"Watch. They're purposely leaving gaps. They want us to attack." (Chapter 29)

"You're as showy and pretentious in your appearances as you are useless." (Chapter 30)

"I don't care who you are. It doesn't change anything." (Chapter 31)

"Why this privilege, why not send me to the cells?" (Chapter 32)

"I'd sooner swallow an infusion of flesh-eating bacteria." (Chapter 41)

"You certainly have been busy, mia cara lupa." (Chapter 42)

"Have you lot been wagering on who The Bright One was?" (Chapter 43)

"You really don't realize you've already lost yet, do you?" (Chapter 44)

"Looks can be deceiving." (Chapter 46)

"Mia lupa, I'll be happy to do all kinds of private experiments with you when we get back home." (Chapter 47)

"Looks like we have a good gathering before us, mia lupa." (Chapter 48)

"As much fun as desecrating bodies is, I don't think this is the right time." (Chapter 49)

"And if anyone tries to ruin this day for you, mia lupa, I'll rip out their intestines, put hot irons in their guts and force them to dance on nails smeared in platypus neurotoxins." (Chapter 50)

“I don't know what it is Enid, but out there, beyond all boundaries, something has moved.” (Epilogue)

[edogawa-division]

ヒプノシスマイク -Rhyme Anima- (Fatal Four Ver.)

In honor of Season 2 premiering soon here's this!

Bring the Beat!

[Wicked Requiem:]

Wicked Requiem!

[Yuriko:]

I'll only say this once to any enemies who appear 

Dare threaten my family, and the only thing left of you will be a bloody smear

[Kaoru:]

Think you can hide your secrets from me? 

Oh, please! Nothing can be hidden from my sight! 

[Kanra:]

With the face of an angel and the rage of a devil 

Try your luck, I’m just itching for a fight 

[Silent Tragedy:]

Silent Tragedy!

[Kanon:]

How amusing, scurrying around my lab like rats

You won't get very far, I can assure you of that 

[Reika:]

A girl can get used to this, you know? 

The feeling of having the world in the palm of your hands 

[Sakura:]

A blood-stained crown rests on my brow

Who are you to give me a command?

[Death Row Block:]

Death Row Block!

[Akihisa:]

Call it a desire for vengeance and strife 

But I still have more to do before heading to the afterlife 

[Touya:]

Think you can leave me all alone? 

Just for that, I’ll make sure to give your throat a slash 

[Rintaro:]

What a pretty picture-perfect life you live

Makes me want to burn it all to ash!

[Valor Guard:]

Valor Guard!

[Seiji:]

Tough as steel and stronger than any shield 

Even against the entire world, I will never yield! 

[Lyall:]

For those who commit the worst of crimes 

I’ll see you judged by Anubis the Jackal! 

[Ayumu:]

The life of a medic isn't for the faint of heart 

You’ll find that it's a constant uphill battle!

[Fatal Four:]

Hypnosis action ends corruption

Lyrics that kick away verses

Nautilus diving into your mind

Attacking by surprise, ignition!

Beyond this endless game

Even if the world ends

We'll continue to fight

At the Division Rap Battle!

[Wicked Requiem:]

Deadly song!

[Yuriko:]

I can see it in your eyes that you’re afraid 

Fear not I’ll sing your final serenade 

[Kaoru:]

Even if I pray to the Muses for guidance

It's to the goddess Athena whom I dedicate my win 

[Kanra:]

Inhumanly born from the deepest pits of hell 

The masses would call my existence a sin 

[Silent Tragedy:]

Fierce blade!

[Kanon:]

Begging for mercy from a maniac? 

Fool, my heart has long since turned pitch black

[Reika:]

How can you say I'm horrible for being evil? 

At least I do it with stone-cold style 

[Sakura:]

Locked and loaded with my finger on the trigger 

I'll gladly put a bullet in your head with a smile

[Death Row Block:]

Execution!

[Akihisa:]

Opposing us is the quickest way to die 

Perhaps you ought to say your final goodbyes 

[Touya:]

Just the sight of you gets me all hot and bothered 

Come on, let's go a few rounds

[Rintaro:]

Think you can run the fuck away?

I’m hot on your heels like a hellhound!

[Valor Guard:]

Duty bound!

[Seiji:]

A warning for all there is very little I fear 

Especially when dealing with threats to all I hold dear 

[Lyall:]

With eyes that see everything like an owl 

I’ll catch you even during the darkest nights 

[Ayumu:]

Even when everyone else has long given up 

I'll keep on going with all my might 

[Fatal Four:]

Hypnosis action ends corruption

Gimmicks that burn synapses

Nobody can stop this now

Ignition!

Now we invite you to catharsis

Rhyming all over the place

Carving into history

With this Division Rap Battle!

[Kaoru:]

Mind racing faster than you can comprehend 

Even now it's plotting your bitter end!

[Reika:]

Even decked out head to toe in jewels

I’ll destroy anyone who tries to overthrow my rule! 

[Touya:]

Seems like you’re someone no one will miss 

How about I seal your fate with a kiss? 

[Lyall:]

Hidden like the dark side of the moon 

Your doom approaches soon! 

[Kanra:]

I’m quick to anger and, with my strength enough said 

So careful, or else you’ll end up dead!

[Sakura:]

Don't even think about trying to be brave 

You'll only just dig your own grave! 

[Rintaro:]

A battle between divisions, call it a nuclear winter!

Leaving nothing but ash and cinder!

[Ayumu:]

I might be here to heal 

But that doesn't mean I'll kneel! 

[Yuriko:]

That's it I’m done playing nice 

It's time I leave you in agonizing pain! 

[Kanon:]

A verbal barrage rains upon the psyche 

Let's see you undo the damage to your brain!

[Akihisa:]

This is our reality now 

One where words have all the power! 

[Seiji:]

Opponents stand all around 

The Division Rap Battles are no place to cower! 

[Fatal Four:]

Hypnosis action ends corruption

Lyrics that kick away verses

The Nautilus dives, invading the brain

Ignition!

Even if what results from this endless game

Is the end of the world

We'll keep resisting

With this Division Rap Battle!