#be it a god or an explosion something had to be killed for us to be here surely

[necromancers-incorporated]

Unholy disinterest, the opposite of divine intervention

[abysswalkerastraea1]

Concurrent Resurgence

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. And now, reborn and unhinged; bound to that creature they call the Miles County Clown, you'd witness first-hand just how far your depravity could go.

17k words

Size kink

Art is so dominant I needed an outlet to express this

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. Just like any regular woman, you screamed and cried and ran from the miles county killer, in a state of frenzy and terror up until the very end.

Your life hung on the precipice as you lay upon the ground, torn open from the midsection and gasping on wet breaths, watching that demonic clown hunker down low, leaning over your friend Vicky as he devoured her face.

You remembered the world becoming dimmer and dimmer, wondering when you'd be devoured next, hoping to God you'd die first so that you didn't have to feel the excruciating pain Vicky had.

Your wish had been granted mercifully, the sound of police sirens and shouting fading out as you heard the final cacophony of a gunshot, and then your world turned black.

Lying as a bloodied corpse in the morgue, you didn't expect to open yours eyes ever again, life beating steadily throughout you even as something dark and heavy like lead anchored you boundlessly to miles county.

You came to the conclusion that you and Art miraculously died at the same time, yours from your injuries while his was from a gunshot to the head. You both breathed your last breath, and now you were both alive.

It was as though his dying soul had latched onto your corpse, a shard of it replenishing what should have been dead and burdening you with rot, decay and evil.

Art had tried to kill you on many occasions since then. He was pleasantly surprised at seeing you whole again, grinning and waving jovially, eager to murder you all over again, only..

You couldn't die, it was as though you were both the oxygen and the blood that keeps one another alive; if one dies, so does the other.

It took some back and forth, cat and mouse antics to learn this. He'd try and catch you, gripping you by the hair with a mallet in the other hand, bringing it down in a devastating blow. You think he realised something had changed when you caught his wrist with an incredible strength you never used to possess and forced his head through a break wall.

Art had given you something, and he cursed you because he knew he could never get it back.

You were two halves of the same coin, polar opposites and yet vastly similar now. Humanity remained within you, somewhere, but your emotions became dim, your morals deathly low, and evil began festering.

You became violent. Explosive, uncharacteristically wrathful. It didn't feel wrong, either. It felt good, and the effort it took not to absolutely maim someone was immeasurable.

Still, humanity lingered in certain things you did, and especially the way you processed emotions, even if they were as muddled as dirty water.

You and Arts lives were intertwined now, and although he had eventually gotten over the fact that he couldn't kill you, you saw him more often than you liked, your meetings often tedious and full of hate.

For the most part, him seeing you often resulted in the biggest, most dramatic eye roll you had ever witnessed, his middle finger sticking right up at you. He didn't find you fun anymore; you were as immortal as him, and that meant you were untouchable, as was he.

You don't know if it was coincidence or some sort of fucked up connection that made you cross paths so often. It made sense, considering a part of him lived within you.

And just like always, Art was there to make everything worse.

For the longest time you tried avidly to enter civilisation again, whether that be from trying to get a decent job, to going to parties and attempting to make friends, or even just simple things like getting your hair done and a manicure.

Half of you wanted your humanity to be in complete control again, enjoying the freedom of joy and life. The other half began condemning regular humans, wanting to be forcefully ostracised from society and it's confinement.

Parties didn't help. On your list of things that did help, partying was the absolute rock bottom. Your alcohol tolerance was still horrifically low, and your ire and hate for the people around you jumped tenfold.

So, all that would really happen is you'd try as politely as possible to make friends at a party, get rejected, and savagely smash their heads into nearby picture frames. Or whatever happened to decorate the wall.

You'd then drink, alone, and become devastatingly drunk. And of course each and every time, Art would find a spare minute or two to observe you once you made your horrible walk of shame home, appearing from the darkness just to point and laugh at you and buckle over.

With your newfound strength and wrath, this often led to fights with you being the instigator.

Bottle in hand, you smashed it into the clowns face viciously, watching his expression turn to one of dramatic shock as he fell backwards from the force, your drunk self falling with him.

You were so intoxicated that once you hit his body you could hardly stand back up. Head laid against his shoulder awkwardly, you groaned and tried to ground yourself with a hand against his chest, collapsing with your feeble attempts.

You winced as your face made contact with the floor all of a sudden, Art having pushed you off roughly with a grimace.

Art knew he couldn't kill you, but he could break your ribs for good measure, grinning at the sickening crack of his boot ramming into your side. It caused you to vomit and go unconscious.

You woke up the next day in broad daylight, laying in the piss stained alleyway littered with rats. Chunks of your vomit and dirt spelling out 'Whore' across your forehead.

Since then, you and Art had toned down your rivalry somewhat, no longer fighting like cat and dog every other night, viciously finding ways to carve each other up.

You avoided each other for the most part. On occasion Art would seek you out just to be an asshole, slicing your cheek with a scalpel just after you'd finished doing your makeup, which infuriated you. Or after having your hair freshly done, he'd smear questionable substances all over it.

You had gotten so angry at that, that you'd went to his rotten workplace and tore half of it down before he managed to stop you.

Art - having realised the repercussions of having an enemy that he could not kill, that would be around with him forever and that would ruin his artisan-level work - certainly toned down his pestering.

You didn't see sight of him for a month after that. Let the asshole cry and lick his wounds, you had thought joyfully.

And now, he breaks into your home like it was his own, eating from your fridge and using your shower. You detested it at the beginning, throwing fully fledged tantrums at the fact that no matter what, you could not kill him. And hurting him too badly would in turn hurt you.

It was something you came to accept. After almost a year of fighting and stubbornness, you both began to yield, realising a stalemate when you saw one.

Art no longer smeared literal shit in your hair and you no longer broke his weapons. Seemed fair.

On the two year mark, Art frequented your home even more. Probably because it had everything he needed, and it had gotten to the point that you didn't even bat an eye at him. You'd still fight, where he'd end up laughing and mocking you and you'd end up furiously screaming at him, but it never really escalated from there.

Physical confrontation did happen rarely, but nothing..drastic. That shard of him within you had made you struggle to control your anger even after two years.

And then other times you sat silently on your settee, blanket drawn up to your chin as you watched a horror film alone. Just like every night, Art would come in and ignore you, but sometimes he'd be curious as to what you were doing, and flop down beside you far too casually.

You'd spare him a neutral glance, carelessly throwing the end of your large blanket at him. He'd excitedly accept it. He viewed it as one of your ritualistic customs when watching something you deemed as scary. Him accepting the blanket meant he was curious to know just what this 'terrifying' movie was about.

"Okay so, they can't find the key to unchain themselves to escape, so that guy has to saw his leg off.", you elaborated quickly, watching the scene unfold.

It wasn't your favourite film but it was on TV at the moment. Art folded his arms, watching patiently as the story proceeded. Your attention eventually faltered as a text message came through.

You responded promptly before putting your phone down. Then, another came through, and another, and you'd giggle to yourself quietly, typing. Art lolled his head back and to the side, watchful. You never really used that device anymore, he wondered what it was that gripped you so much.

He didn't have to wonder much longer as he ripped your phone from your hands and darted up, standing to his full height as he swiftly perused the text messages.

You jumped up after him, reaching a hand up to grab at him only for him to lift the phone above his head, gaze staring up to read them.

"Give me my phone now! I swear to God Art I'll fucking--", the rest of your complaining fell on deaf ears. Art rolled his eyes, all you ever did was pull tantrums and shout. And you never shut up, prattling on about one thing or another, screaming profanities and empty threats that Art didn't even deign to laugh at anymore, that's how common they were.

Eyes scanning the messages, a grin began to grow on his face, until full fledged laughter erupted silently. You seethed at him, clawing at his hands to try and grab it. Art eventually gave in, rolling his eyes at your continued threats, putting a hand against your shoulder and roughly shoving you away, phone thrown into your lap as you fell against the settee.

Before he left, Art turned back with his horn held between his legs obscenely, stroking it with a surprised face, eyebrows high and lips forming an 'o' shape.

You glared at him, but couldn't deny the way your cheeks reddened as his stroking got faster and his eyes rolled back in mock euphoria. You folded your arms and shrugged; you had nothing to say to that. Yes you were sexting some random guy and yes you wanted some dick.

Art tipped his hat with a dead expression, his mimicry representing a gentlemanly 'farewell and adieu', and his expression reading 'desperate whore'.

Before he finally departed, Art held up a scissors in one hand and a pliers in the other. He snipped them sassily, threateningly, grinning all the while.

"Yeah, well, if he's shit you're more than welcome to use them on him." You assured, and you meant it too. This guy seemed a little odd anyway, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Art seemed pleasantly happy with that, giving you a thumbs up with his back turned as he left the house in his Santa getup.

It was probably because you were overly horny, but...

No, you shook your head. Now is not the time to think of him like that. Honestly, you were getting more depraved every week.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You don't know what you were expecting, but it was.. anticlimactic.

You had become so sinful since your rebirth, average sex no longer doing it for you. The first guy was okay, an asshole, but okay. You tried so hard to be pleasant and normal but frustration and an unhinged desire coursed through you desperately.

It wasn't as though his dick wasn't to your liking, he was just so average and fucking human that you didn't even manage to get to the part that you desperately craved, your disgust evident.

Anyway, he seemed to think you had a bad attitude - you did - which led to arguing. You were not backing down and neither was he.

Raised voices turned into insults, both of you storming out of your bedroom and down the stairs as you reigned your anger in and told him to get out.

You could see Art from the front door, he must've came home at some point, focus taken from the TV as he watched you both scream at each other, boots propped up on your fucking coffee table which you told him not to do so many times-

And then your cheek was turning as this assholes hand met the side of your face.

You could feel your teeth clenching. Your face remained stoic, eyes burning with fury. You could see Art chuckling cruelly in the background, shoulders moving silently, incredibly invested in how this is going to play out.

It was only then did the asshole seem to notice a flash of black and white in the background, turning with an ugly scowl to the clown who now suddenly stood with a large smile, hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

He faltered, mild confusion and anger still evident in his scowl. An angry finger pointed in the clowns direction. "Who the fuck is that? You got a queue lining up after me, honey?" He spat the vile words at you, acidic and full of disgust.

You didn't have a chance to respond, lips quirking in mild amusement and eyes smouldered like a fiery, dark pit. The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at the demonic clown, before gazing back down at you with his lips snarling enough to bare his teeth.

"I knew there was something off about you, you fucking slut. Too proud to put out and, let's be honest," the man gave you a slow, disgusting once over, "not much to look at."

Something in you snapped, but all that came out was a gentle, breathy laugh, your eyes shining and dancing with a peculiar emotion. You wonder what it reflected. Judging by the way Art tilted his head from afar, assessing, before beginning to chuckle to himself even more, it must've been something ominous.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, asshole? Want me to come over there and give you something to really laugh at?!" The man roared at Art from across the room, utterly furious, fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.

Art began pointing and laughing now, wide eyed and crazed as he nodded vigorously as though to say 'please do!'

Before he could, you gripped his arm gently; your expression depicted a mocking sense of disappointment. "I've ruined your night, and wasted all of your precious time." You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat for him, indignant at yourself. "And like you said, I'm really not looking my best, am I? I apologize.", you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes squinted almost cutely.

The man paused at your admittance, evidently not used to any woman ever agreeing with him. He relaxed somewhat, nodding to himself as though to say yes, you are the problem, not him.

Arts dark eyes bored into your form, entranced, unsmiling, deadly.

"I'll make it up to you."

Your smile spread eerily wide, slow and deliberate and full of glee, frozen on your face. There was something ominous about you, mouth spread so far it looked as though you were doing a poor imitation of how a human should smile. It was too wide, too happy, unnatural. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.

The man appeared shocked and faltered, squinting at you as though to decipher what's going on. It felt like his eyes deceived him, searching desperately. Did he hear wrong? Did he miss something? Turning back towards the clown for some semblance of an answer, he seemed to have vanished. There was no trace of him ever being there, and there was no sound.

All was too silent, too calm, and it made his nerves stand on end, unsure, horrifically uncertain about everything he had just witnessed. He needed to leave.

The man tensed, back stepping at the sudden eeriness. It was so quiet, in fact, that part of his mind doubted that he had ever spoken to someone in the first place. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this. Without another thought, he turned and made his way to the front door.

If not that, then the knife embedded in his back surely did.

His keys suddenly dropped to the floor from his hand. The sound was loud, and would probably shock anyone out of a daydream.

Though, a second later, the horrific cry that surely tore his vocal chords was loud enough to make it evidently clear that this was all very real.

The life that had been temporarily drained from the house now sprung to life viciously, all at once.

Gripping a fistful of his hair, you dragged him roughly through your living room, kicking him so hard in the chest he convulsed, air struggling to enter his wheezing lungs. Blood covered his chin, eyes wide and unable to comprehend these sudden events; Questions swirled in his horrified orbs.

Lips curling in disgust, you jumped on top of him and began violently beating him. The man struggled hard, trying to buck you off of him and attack you back but to no avail. You were as immovable as a wall, face stoic and nonchalant as the man flailed back and forth, desperate to escape.

His eyes were wide, terrified, blood pouring down his face. In a flash, you held his fist tightly, catching it before it could make contact with you. You began to chuckle, mirth dancing in your irises, squeezing so hard you could feel the bone snapping.

It wasn't normal, this level of power, but it felt so beautifully natural to you, something dark and radiantly evil crying out in glory at your actions, delightfully satisfied.

He roared in pain, tears involuntarily streaming down his face, hand mangled and deranged looking as he cradled it to his chest. He shuddered violently, eyes wild in horror. "What the fuck are you?!"

"Me?", you thought aloud softly, bloody hand to your chin contemplatively as you stared up at Art, who was so suddenly by your side that it made the man flinch and choke on his breath in fright.

"I'm a..slut, right? That's the word you used?" You looked at the man for confirmation, who shook his head swiftly in regret, face contorting miserably as he realized his grave error. He began to sob.

You gazed up at Art, who was clenching his hands rhythmically again, laughter shaking his shoulders. There was more than satisfaction at watching this asshole get beaten; almost a hidden connection of evil sparking between you both. He was corrupting you, but you yourself made these choices. You, avidly, enjoyed this outcome.

"Is that right, Art? He said slut, didn't he?", you hummed in thought, scratching your head for an answer. Your crimson hands dyed your hair a terrifying red as you curled a lock thoughtfully between your fingers.

Art nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off the way your blue orbs became corrupted, like sediment contaminating a clear pool. They shined as black as his now.

"It's funny," you began with a dreamy sigh, eyelashes fluttering back down at the miserable sight below you. The whites of your eyes appeared disturbingly bloodshot. "For being such a slut, I haven't managed to get a good look at you yet. We didn't get too far earlier, did we?"

The man below you was hyper ventilating now, shaking his head furiously, knowing and fearing where this was going. His mangled hand joined the other in what looked like to be a feeble prayer, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I-Im sorry! Youre not a slut, you're--youre stunning and I'm so, so fucking sorry--"

Your act dropped then, eyes dead and void. A sense of dread hung heavy in the air for this man; There was no way out, and no amount of pleading would change that. You lifted your knife carelessly in the air, twirling the weapon hauntingly. The look the man gave you would stay in your memory for a while, it was full of pure, unadulterated terror.

You brought the knife down, slicing in his groin. The man screamed so loud you thought his vocal chords had torn. Blood pooled around you, soaked you, bathed you in a pretty crimson to match your nails.

Art was a hysterical mess, hunched over and pointing and laughing, miming a condescending, fake sobbing at the pathetic man. He held a sinister mirth in his eyes, absolutely buckled.

Grotesquely, you dug your hands into the gaping wound you had made in the man's genitals, rummaging around with the sounds of squelching blood permeating the air. Finding what you were looking for, you held it up high between your finger and thumb, expression holding that all too familiar disappointment.

Your lips quirked, "Not such a big man now, are you?"

Art was rife with laughter and joyfulness, and before you knew it, your giggling turned into cackling, blood smeared all over yourself as you held your stomach, tears falling down your cheeks in sick, dark satisfaction.

You hadn't laughed this hard in years, hadn't felt this liberated and happy in a while. Everytime you calmed down, giggles becoming quiet, Art would hold up the castrated organ absurdly, wiggling it like an ugly worm with a look of surprise on his face, eyebrows high and mouth open, and you'd be on the floor cackling madly once again.

It must've been a grotesque sight, you on your knees upon the floor, blood sinking so deeply into your clothes you wondered if it would come out, wiping tears of laughter away only to smudge deep streaks of red across your cheeks. You looked like an animal, rabid and violent.

Art gazed down at your crazed form with a smirk of satisfaction, chaos swirling in his eyes. It was as though he had been waiting for that part of him to corrupt you, for your anger to explode, for your unhinged desires to manifest.

After some time, everything fell peacefully quiet. It was comfortable, and dare you say amicable. Your breathing was the only sound in the room, slowing down as you gazed down at the way your feet were absolutely soaked red.

Leaning back on your hands, you caught sight of the demonic clown with his arms folded, leaning against the wall. He seemed serene, no longer smiling but definitely not frowning either. His black eyes perused the coating of blood on the floor, making their way up to study you deliberately.

His stare was intense, and you couldn't stop your cheeks from lifting upwards into a smile. Pushing yourself to a stand, you grimaced at the mutilated body on the floor and shivered in disgust.

You nudged at the corpse with your foot, cringing. "Maybe mortal men just aren't for me, anymore. "Though," you began as an afterthought, "even if I had a boyfriend, you'd probably kill him anyway." You sighed, fully acknowledging this.

You weren't even aggravated by that fact anymore. It would've really angered you once, but what's the point? You and Art seemed bound together forever, by the looks of it. You couldn't imagine him sitting idly with another person in the house. But then again, neither would you.

Art deliberated, gazing upwards in brief thought, before shrugging too. Yeah, probably. Just to get under your skin, mostly. And maybe an inkling of something else. He finally nodded, eyes staring down at you from his nose, like an old librarian with their glasses on the end of their nose. Snobbish. He had a reputation to up hold, you know. His nonchalant expression read 'well, you're not wrong.'

You scoffed, though offered a small smile nonetheless. He was amusing. For a silent clown, he was awfully verbal with his theatrical ways.

But now you began to think solemnly; What you just did - the killing, the maiming, the castrating - was vile. It was unforgivable, sickening. Your human half knows this, and something is conflicted within you. It felt like two halves of yourself were at war.

Even still, you felt joy. And you know that's wrong, and it's absolutely maniacal. But what's even more astounding is right here, on a late Saturday evening, you and that stupid clown stood with an air of tranquillity and comfort, together. If this was two years ago, you'd be within inches of maiming each other.

Like a domesticated couple, Art got to work on disposing of the body, dragging it with ease to your back door, before disappearing. It left a streak of smudged red on your tiles. You got to work cleaning, rolling your sleeves up as you hunted for something to make your floor shine again. It took a while, but he was gone for some time anyway.

By the time everything was relatively tidy, it was past midnight. The stain on the floor had disappeared thankfully, and you felt refreshed after a hot bath, changing into comfortable pyjamas and fluffy socks.

You sat in your bed, blankets pulled comfortingly up to your stomach. Your bedroom was filled with dim lights, and they had their necessary effect of making you feel content.

You had chosen a random film to watch on tv. It didn't really matter which one because your thoughts were otherwise occupied. It played serenely in the background, but something was bothering you.

A part of you felt slightly deflated. You were still undeniably frustrated and borderline desperate to have this desire quelled within you, and now that you had a moment to yourself, it barrelled to the forefront of your mind.

It was a ridiculous feeling, but you couldn't help that you were so pent up. Maybe you were ovulating. That did tend to make your hormones go haywire.

Even still, you hadn't long killed a man. It would be wrong to..indulge after that, wouldn't it? You pursed your lips in thought, two sides of yourself fighting menacingly. You couldn't tell if your good was being corrupted, or if Arts evil that had tainted you had brought out repressed, dark feelings that most humans surely kept hidden.

You didn't feel guilty, which was peculiar. Your nature before meeting Art often held a lot of empathy. You could feel yourself shifting, but you could never pinpoint the change until it had already been demonstrated. From the way Art pierced his black eyes into you, you bet he could see the transformation easily.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the background noise of the TV suddenly became incredibly interesting to your brain. You paused, peering at the TV as the sounds of quiet gasps and sloppy kissing filled your room.

It wasn't even particularly erotic, but..

Even just the sounds had your pulse increasing ever so slightly. In your desperate state of mind, it was easy to imagine how that messy kissing felt, tangled up in somebody else, remembering the feel of bolts of arousal shooting down your body in tingles as it became more passionate, more eager.

You were in a trance, frozen as you watched and drank up every detail. Male hands gliding down a womanly figure, cupping her heavy breasts and listening to the shaky inhales and exhales she made, back arching into his hands needily.

You felt a hot warmth bloom in your abdomen, a pulse beating steadily between your thighs. How were you so affected by this? You weren't even just mildly turned on, you were in a state of full blown arousal, a stickiness oozing between your legs. You felt like some of that was from earlier, mostly from the anticipation of sex rather than the futile attempts that asshole made on you.

The image now depicted the man positioning the woman on her hands and knees, readying her. You gripped your blanket, wanting so badly to be touched like that again and actually enjoy it.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, hyper analysing every detail you could take in. The world around you faded.

The actor on screen gripped the woman's hips roughly, situating himself behind her. He gave her no time to prepare before sinking in slowly, and you watched the way her lips spread open in a quiet moan, brows furrowed and chest rising and falling rapidly.

A wave of heat flashed through you, making you warm enough that you had to kick the blanket off your person. What film was this? It was incredibly pornographic, not that you were complaining..

Your bottoms were next to go, tossed haphazardly to the floor; you were sweltering. Granted, the room was far too warm anyway, but what you were witnessing on screen had you in a completely different state of over heating.

All you had on now was a pair of black, silky underwear and an oversized top. You felt dishevelled, and sighed as the scene ended far too quickly for your liking and the TV adverts started to play.

You watched on in boredom as Christmas adverts began popping up colourfully with the sound of bells ringing. You felt mildly irritated, your arousal fizzling considerably, but still prominent. You were left with the sticky reminder between your thighs, head lolling back against your bedframe.

Your head rolled to the left, eyes staring down your nose at the sight of your bedside drawer. Specifically, the one that held a lot of intimate objects. You felt a little cautious using the vibrator because knowing Art, he'd curiously come up to see what the noise was; he seemed to have acute hearing.

But if you went under the blankets, vibrator hidden between your thighs, there's no way he'd hear that. Your door was firmly shut and the buzzing was incredibly muffled under your duvet. You'd be quiet and keep it on the first setting.

You were astounded once again at just how wound up and sensitive you are, vibrator delicately touching your clit as your phone displayed a pornographic video.

The cock on the screen was a good size, and as you watched it's girth spread the woman's puffy labia, a sudden desperation gnawed through you. You pressed the vibrator onto your clit more directly, the bottom of your t shirt caught between your lips as your tits jutted out prettily on display, nipples pert.

You bit down on the fabric to quell your whines of delight, breathing sharp and fast through your nose as the vibrating against your clit became over whelming, body alight with a white hot fire that spanned from your abdomen down to your toes.

Your sodden hole clenched needily, you wanted to be filled but you needed a man to do that. You wanted to receive a worthy dick that would split you in half just like the woman on your small screen.

The scene changed abruptly, and what was shown next had your hips bucking desperately into the vibrator, teeth now clenching the fabric hard as your breathing became heavy through your nose, pleasure intensifying.

The man had the woman on her knees, his member shoved ruthlessly into her mouth as he gripped a fistful of her hair and used her like a toy. Saliva decorated her mouth, and you watched with rapt attention as the mans heavy balls slapped her chin; it all seemed degrading, but..

A moan escaped you, muffled, and your back arched as you moved a hand between your thighs and touched the outside of your entrance; you were absurdly wet, sinking straight through your underwear and smearing your inner thighs.

You so desperately wanted to grab the dildo from your draw and push it deep within yourself, hard, but you refrained. Your climax was approaching anyway, and you could hardly stop yourself from whining at the thought of being the woman on the screen, sucking a hard dick as you made a messy pool of wetness below you, begging to be split apart.

From there, it was a hasty descent into blinding pleasure, your wariness dimming as low moans escaped your lips. Your eyes were shut now, permanent soft frown creasing your eyebrows as you were so close to your peak, cresting at the very precipice--

A loud bang resounded in your room, loud enough to drag you out of your delirious stupor. Your eyes shot open in annoyance, wondering if you had kicked your remote control off of the bed, but then your blood turned to ice in your veins.

In fact, you sat so absurdly shocked that all movements ceased, eyes wide and unblinking at the now ajar door of your bedroom which you definitely, without doubt, unequivocally, had shut earlier.

You blinked rapidly, vibrator dropping from your hand. It buzzed obscenely on the bed with a sheen of lubrication covering the tip, but you hardly registered it.

The door was less than halfway ajar, your dark hallway the only thing you could see, and..

A hand flew to your mouth in utter mortification, cheeks flaming crimson. You felt dizzy with a multitude of emotions.

A messy, hand written note was celotaped to your door. In jagged, capital letters spelled 'Art was here'. With a crude, childish winky face drawn beside it.

Your breathing increased suddenly, limbs shaking with not only the almost-orgasm you were about to receive, but also the unusual fluttering of your stomach in nervous humiliation and something else.

You felt severely perplexed, biting your nails as you tried to reminisce, tried to pinpoint when and how he had opened the door without you knowing and celotaped that preposterous note to your door. How was that even possible?

Clearly, Art wanted to grab your attention just as you were about to orgasm, most likely banging your wall from the hallway, hard. It sounded like a picture frame had fallen.

That made sense. At the very least, one thing did. But what about the rest, how was he able to furtively open your door, noiselessly, undoubtedly watching you?

You bolted up straighter, eyes darting around anxiously. Oh my God, he hadn't just intuitively known you were touching yourself, he must've heard something. Were you loud? You couldn't remember, you were so dazed.

Your mind created pictures of your thoughts, envisioning him opening your door just a crack and--

Your hands covered your face. You were so embarrassed. Had he been watching you? He surely had. And alongside this humiliation, why did you feel a flutter of nervous excitement roll through you? Were you so depraved?

Your hands kneaded your blanket, gripping handfuls and releasing rhythmically. Holy God, Art had made you feel many things over the years.

Hatred, annoyance, recent joy and laughter, fear, anxiety, you could go on and on, but this?

This was something new. And yeah, maybe he only did it to get under your skin. What better way to mortify a woman than catching her red handed, touching herself, and calling her out on it?

But..

Your thoughts took it a step further.

Was there..any other reason?

You bit your lip in contemplation, arms wrapped around yourself comfortingly. At some point over the past two years, brief thoughts of the demonic clown had entered your mind, fleeting sexual thoughts that left as quickly as they came.

Because, well, you were evidently desperate at this point. And he had a certain charm about him, once you got passed the ire you once held for him. And he was a man, or in a man's body, anyway.

Your mind swirled with questions, dirty thoughts, and unending embarrassment each time you realised he probably saw everything that you did.

And he probably saw the way your teeth gnawed into your shirt to silence yourself, heavy breasts poking out beneath, fully exposed, expression one of unbridled, desperate pleasure.

Your heart beat felt like it was in your ears, anxiety high. The door remained open for a reason. He wanted you to come out, and then wanted to absolutely humiliate you.

You got along a lot better now, as evidenced earlier, but that didn't mean that he'd stop messing with you.

Begrudgingly, you knew that even with your enhanced abilities and strength, you were no match for him. If he wanted to truly be hidden, he would. If he wanted to truly be swift and unseen in his movements, he would be.

You often found your bizarre abilities only worked when you were angry, or felt some sort of negative emotion.

Otherwise, you were just a regular human, having no control over that shard of terror that lingered within you from your rebirth.

Steeling your nerves, you took slow steps towards the door. You were still clad in your long t shirt and fluffy socks, and schooled your expression into one of stern stoicism.

You couldn't avoid that asshole forever.

Gripping the door handle, you stepped fully into the darkness of the hallway, enveloped. Standing still for a few moments, you realised he obviously wasn't outside your door, waiting to terrify you.

Swallowing nervously, you made your way downstairs. The stairs groaned and creaked like they always did, but it sounded absolutely deafening to you as it signalled your descent.

Out of everything that he had ever done to you - from killing you, to breaking your bones, stabbing you and everything else - this made you feel the most vulnerable.

Your living room was pitch black, not a single light illuminating the area. You held your breath, listening as intently as you could.

Silence.

Your throat felt too dry to call out to him. You knew your voice would shake, your words would stammer. It would make the situation even more shameful, so you remained quiet.

Your eyes surveyed the living room in darkness, honing in on any unnatural shadow that seemed a little too eerie; he wasn't here. That frightened you more than if he had taken this moment to jump out at you.

Uneasy frustration welled up within you. Not only had your pleasure been ripped away from you, your legs uncomfortably sticky, but now you felt incredibly exposed.

Inhaling deeply, you glared holes into your kitchen door. Two things could happen here: Either he was in there waiting to scare the hell out of you, or he wasn't in there at all, making you more on edge.

You pushed the door open, trailing inside with faux confidence, switching the lights on.

Nobody was here.

If anything, the kitchen was still surprisingly how you left it earlier - clean. Eyebrows drawing together into a scowl, you grabbed a glass of water, chair screeching as you took a seat.

Art must've pulled that trick on you and then promptly left, entering the night to no doubt destroy another victims life.

Brushing your dishevelled hair out of your face, you sat back against the chair defeatedly. Well, your emotions aren't going to change what's already happened, and you'd have to face that asshole at some point.

Evidently, tonight was not the night.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't believe that it was already 3am. Your eyes felt heavy, your limbs felt weary and you were burnt out.

Peering around the kitchen, you realised that you must've left your phone upstairs.

That's fine, you needed to sleep anyway. Pushing yourself to a stand, you trudged sleepily up the shadowed stairs, rubbing at your burning eyes with the back of your hand.

You felt content at the moment to sleep off the crazy events of the day and worry about them tomorrow. Your door was open, just as you had left it, and the comforting glow of your warm lights that emitted from inside welcomed you with open arms.

Stepping into the safety of your room felt relieving, and as you turned back to close the bedroom door firmly, you came face to terrifying face with a chest.

You froze, mind pausing in fright at the sudden, tall body that blocked your doorway. You blinked rapidly, face displaying astonishment, and snapped your head up at the perpetrator, wide eyed.

What stared back down at you made caution well up inside you. Art stood tall, appearing out of thin air clad in his absurd Santa costume. It suited him, and the bulky material only served to make his structure appear even bigger, more menacing.

Your eyes fluttered up at him with uncertainty, darting rapidly between his face and his chest as you struggled to maintain his intense eye contact.

The clowns face was all sharp contours, edged smile of amusement plastered to his face as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed languidly across his chest, widening his overall structure considerably. Has he always been this big?

He watched you with a wide, salacious grin, eyes alight and unwavering, and from the glint in his eye you knew what was about to come.

You swallowed, feeling your mask of neutrality betraying you as your body heated up, displaying a pink hue to your complexion. You didn't know what to say, how to act. Art could see this, the way you'd open your mouth only to close it, eyes darting around nervously.

You were usually so full of complaints, insults and incredibly argumentative when he had 'crossed the line', as you so often called it. As he so often did. Since your rebirth, you were all fire and wrath, near enough ripping his head off for something as simple as leaving a bloody mess on your floors or your door handles, if he didn't clean it anyway.

Of course, Art had begrudgingly agreed with you long ago to cease the truly harsh fighting, but that didn't mean that you didn't bicker, in a sense. He liked your ire, the way your teeth would grind together in anger, the way you'd go into an absolute fit if he threatened to childishly mess with your makeup and clothes, or anything you held valuable, really.

It was funny, and he knew you secretly got a kick out of it. Once the cat and dog game was over, you'd snap back to being a sweet, little human. It was interesting, and so amusing.

But this? Art peered down at you deliberately, perusing your flushed exterior with a smug, self satisfied grin.

He had been looking for new ways to get you to crack. So far, everything annoying he did was met with your aggressive screeches, and that was fine. But he needed something juicy, needed something that would really bother you, rile you up.

For a while, he struggled to find anything. He couldn't go too far with his schemes - you were both bound together, after all, so that would be met with futility.

He truly enjoyed bothering you, that was true, but his methods got boring. What could he possibly do that would make you think twice, or go silent? What would really shock you, make you revert back into your humanity, so full of emotion?

As a point of reiteration, he could have done many crude, evil and horrific things, but he couldn't because of your peculiar connection. So, he had to settle for something that was..bearable to you, but also astounding.

He came across this opportunity by pure chance. He knew what you got up to behind closed doors, you were a needy thing, but he didn't really think twice about it. He kept the knowledge of it quiet, however, just in case he ever needed to utilise it for fun.

It didn't interest him, initially. He enjoyed inflicting pain, mentally and physically, so the fact that you would so often touch yourself to induce pleasure wasn't particularly within his territory of fixations. He had other things that kept him occupied.

However, hearing your laboured breathing and quiet little moans had piqued his interest on this particular day. He had no reason for that, other than the simple fact that he wanted to spy on you. It was an urge that came by on a whim; it meant nothing, it is nothing, but Art often acted spontaneously on how he felt in the moment.

Mortal flesh did so often have its urges.

And a light bulb certainly lit up within his mind - this was the perfect way to humiliate you.

He had watched the way you gnawed at your t-shirt to keep quiet, pretty pert tits on display as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. Art had grinned wickedly at the scene, hands fisting and shaking in excitement at the thought of never letting you live this down.

But, upon watching further, witnessing the way your head lolled back pleasurably, back arching and legs splayed wide in pure need, he couldn't deny the barely restrained desire to storm in and tease you until you were wracked with sobs.

Art had frowned in puzzlement at that feeling - it was incredibly rare for him - but his smile soon returned, shrugging as he accepted his feelings. If anything, this would only serve to embarrass you even more, he thought.

And now, dark eyes trained on your rapidly warming face, Art was enraptured by the amount of emotion that seemed to demonstrate itself. Your expressions changed quickly, and the details were minuscule, but he could see you entering a vicious cycle of bewilderment, embarrassment, anger and self consciousness.

It was as though your brain didn't know whether to lash out or guard itself. It was entertaining.

The silence hung heavily. Arts position remained the same, leaned casually against the doorframe, and yours remained as rigid and tense as ever. Your mind felt muddled. With a slow breath, your expression fell flat. Even still, you couldn't look him in the eye, and instead glared heavily at his chest.

"Stop it.", you began with a quiet, indignant scowl, chastising him. Your eyebrows drew together, so incredibly uncertain. His eyes bored holes into you and it was making you squirm. You were too stubborn to turn away.

Even still, you'd admit defeat temporarily. You didn't have the energy to battle him right now. With a huff, you turned on your heel and made your way to the bed, exasperatedly throwing your arms up into the air.

"Fine, stay there and stare all night for all I care; I'm tired." But you did care, didn't you? It gnawed at you.

Barely making it to the bed, you stopped abruptly at the sound of fingers snapping at you once, twice, seeking your attention. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly turned to look at him, expression thunderous. "Art, I'm not in the mood for this, and-- is that my phone?"

You barely breathed the question in masked panic, eyes wide once more as your phone dangled teasingly from his fingertips, wide grin stretching impossibly further.

The clown shrugged softly as though to say 'maybe', shoulders beginning to move rapidly, rising and falling in laughter as he held a hand to his mouth in faux astonishment at whatever was showing on your phone.

He feigned a look of bashfulness, fanning his face for a moment, eyes fluttering, before pointing and laughing at you some more. Your face twitched in it's attempt to remain calm and neutral, but Art could see right through you.

Covering his eyes obscenely at whatever was on the screen, but still very clearly peeking through the gaps in his fingers, Art swiftly turned the phone around so you could have a look.

That's when your mouth went dry and heat began to pinken your face even more. On the screen displayed the porn you were looking at earlier. You must've forgotten to close the tab, leaving the video running.

The volume had been turned up far too loud, the sounds of slurping and moaning vibrating through your skull deafeningly. A woman on screen had her hair gripped hard in a fistful, the man above her sliding his thick length between her lips. The sounds were filthy, and so so loud. You gripped the sides of your face loosely in devastation.

This time, you stormed up to him furiously, lunging and making a grab for your phone. "Stop it!", you repeated, shrieking this time.

You missed the phone entirely as he lifted it higher. You seethed, teeth clenched in frustration as the sounds continued, except now they had increased exponentially. From the way the screen turned down at you, you could see the man lifting the woman's thighs over his shoulders before he--

You shook your head furiously, shame blooming deep within your chest as you roughly slapped a hand against his chest for leverage, trodding onto his boots on your tiptoes to try and make another grab for your phone.

The attempt was futile, art was so tall and his arms were so long that you could never reach it. Your body was pressed up against his own, stretching high to make even minor progress in retrieving your phone. You could feel your anger boiling, scowling as you reared an arm back and aimed a punch for his sternum.

Everything happened incredibly fast after that. Before you could make contact, your forearm was gripped hard, your body was spun and your arm was wrenched behind your back.

You yelped, back pressed firmly to his front. You jerked side to side rapidly, releasing a cry of frustration in your attempt to get out of his iron grip, but to no avail.

"Let me go right now!" You attempted to sound demanding and aggressive, but it came out whiny, your voice shaking. You could feel the clowns body vibrating with laughter behind you, hand so tight around your arm you couldn't move at all.

On any other day, when you and Art would undoubtedly get into situations like this due to his pestering, you had a far better chance of escaping because you were often angry.

But today, you felt..more vulnerable than anything. You felt so puny, so small and human and fragile. It was a dirty trick on his part, and it prevented your usual unnatural strength from bursting forth.

Well, even with that strength, you don't think you could truly win against Art anyway.

Tossing back and forth regardless, you huffed and cursed at him repeatedly, knees slightly bent from the way he held you tightly and put pressure on you.

"You're a fucking asshole!", you seethed, practically feeling the mirth roll off of him in waves at your predicament.

A strong hand wrapped it's way around your delicate jaw, holding firmly but not painfully. Your head was pushed upwards almost playfully, fingertips tickling the underside of your face.

You met your own scowling expression in the body length mirror that decorated your wardrobe doors. It was as long as the doors and just as wide, giving you a clear view of Arts smirking face hovering above you.

You took in your dishevelled complexion, hair a wild mess, face lightly perspiring and your long pyjama t shirt barely reaching just above your knee.

You were hunched slightly due to being immobilised, and the hand that cradled your jaw looked absolutely massive. It was big enough to crush your skull if he wanted to, big enough to easily smother your mouth and nose without actively trying to.

Your scowl had lessened considerably at this point, that vulnerable expression returning once more. From this view, you hadn't realised just how tall he was compared to you. He was lithe, but wearing that Santa costume made him fill out a little, appear wider.

On a normal day his size would swallow your stature whole, casting a shadow over you, but in that costume?

He looked huge.

The stark realisation of this, paired with the absurdly intimate way he had your back flush to his chest and his calloused hand wrapped around your jaw with a salacious smirk, forcing you to stare at him in the mirror - you couldn't help but flush.

You found that you couldn't look away, your head attempting to move only to have his grip tighten, his grin sharpening. He loomed above you like an evil blight, eyes dark and calculating.

The sounds of the video continued in the background, a particularly loud cry having drawn you out of your thoughts, and it caused you to flutter your eyes to the floor and away from his charcoal irises.

You couldn't deny the heat that began to flourish within you.

It only increased tenfold at the feeling of a firm hand slowly gliding it's way from your jaw, descending directly to your waist, then further to your hip, squeezing.

Your eyes widened, head snapping back up at the mirror in bewilderment. You were met with the sight of his rough hand caressing you, smiling all the while.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You spat rapidly in disbelief, words shaken and sounding far weaker than you would've liked.

He had never done this to you before. Art liked to cause pain, not..

Not this. Not any semblance of pleasure, of intimacy. Your lips opened in a quiet gasp, body tingling as the heat of his hand drew circles along your hipbone before delving lower.

You jerked in his grasp, flushing heavily at the sight of his hand gliding lower and lower until his fingers played with the hem of your t shirt.

"D-dont you dare!", you squeezed your thighs together, body squirming against him with struggle. He had long since released your numb arm, and instead opted for wrapping a long arm around your waist, your head resting against his chest as his daring hand gripped the fabric of your t shirt and teasingly went to lift it, only to stop, awaiting your reaction.

His shoulders began to move with glee, chest vibrating. Your reactions were priceless as you squirmed and attempted to back away from his hand, only to back further into his body.

This infuriated you, your flushed complexion displaying panic and bashfulness.

Those mischievous fingers danced along your thigh, lifting the fabric once again, higher this time, before dropping it. His expression held one of mock surprise, lips downturned neutrally and eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.

"Don't-- don't do that! I mean it!", you whined miserably, heat encompassing your body. It caused him to pause, eyes snapping from your almost exposed thighs to your pleading gaze.

That sharp, predatory grin returned. The heat of his hand squeezed your thigh and slipped under the fabric, tickling the edge of your underwear, fingers playing with the intricate, laced detail.

Your breath shuddered, eyes wide, and you unconsciously moved a hand to grip at his wrist. Whether to push him away or pull him in, you didn't know anymore; you felt overwhelmed, and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly portrayed that.

Art snickered, unwrapping himself from your body and taking a step back, his boots thumping. With a playful roll of his eyes, he held his hands up in mock surrender, as though to reassure you that it was all a harmless joke, and attempted to smile softly, innocently. It made him appear all the more sinister.

You spun around on your heel, taking a step back yourself as you scrutinised his display of surrender. It was uncharacteristic. Despite that, Art shook his hands exasperatedly in the air, sighing as though to say 'it was a joke, don't you believe me?'

You shook your head slowly, lost for words. You couldn't speak, throat dry and mind racing. You wanted to run away.

Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, before rolling them back to you dramatically, grin plastered on his face. At your retreat, he experimentally took a step forward, rather comical if not for the situation, and chuckled at your jittery self.

You furrowed your brows, not falling victim to this act anymore. You were going to kick his ass tomorrow, but for now you needed to retreat into the safety of your blanket, tail between your legs. "Get out.", you pointed towards the door sternly.

Arts eyes followed your finger to the door, before blinking over to you once more. His gaze swept over your form, head tilting in thought. He began to smirk.

Before you could react, Art leapt forward three steps, making you yelp and scramble backwards, narrowly missing falling over the edge of your bed as you backed your way towards the wall.

The clown snickered again, standing up tall and no longer doing that comical hunched appearance when he lunged at you. Now, he stood to his full height, back straight and stature big, before his boots thudded along your floor as he slowly advanced in a predatory fashion.

"I swear to God if you come near me--", you pressed yourself against the wall, watching his looming figure get taller and taller.

Your neck craned upwards, stare defiant as he hovered above. Heavy hands suddenly planted themselves violently either side of your head, crowding you in.

You flinched, blinking rapidly at the way he leaned down to become eye level with you. Your cheeks were pink again, eyes darting across his face for an answer to his weird behavior. What the hell was going on?

He was alluring, you thought, and it made thoughts race in your mind. Was he going to suddenly hurt you? Was he truly just playing? Was he actively flirting with you in his sick type of way? You had never fell this silent in front of him before. You needed to gain equal ground against this asshole.

"That's enough. What, are you interested in me now?", you scoffed, daring to lean forward into his space, face so close to his you could feel his silent breath; it was a front, you felt jittery even now, but you wouldn't allow him to mess with you any longer.

Art grinned, not at all reacting to your faux bout of confidence. He shrugged half-heartedly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It left you dumbstruck. What he did next made heat spread so unbelievably throughout your body.

You were so flustered your head felt heavy, and it only increased tenfold as your wrist was gripped in his big hand, fingers limp and relaxed, before he brought the digits you had touched yourself with to his lips and slid them in slow.

You shuddered, inhaling sharply at this display of intimacy. His grip was slack on your wrist, seeming to omit to the fact that you could escape if you really wanted to.

But you didn't want to. The thought didn't even cross your mind, and his eyes narrowed in a knowing sense of smugness at that.

Arousal swelled in your lower belly, pooling between your thighs as Arts tongue danced between the seam of your fingers, the ticklish feeling sending tingles through your nerves.

Art peered down at you, mouth full of your fingers, his grin turning nasty as he bit them lightly. Despite the clear threat that he could rip them out of the socket, your eyes remained lidded, pupils blown wide and hand lax as you let him caress you with his tongue and teeth. Crowded so close together against the wall, he could hear your heart beat thumping.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, Art reached down, bending at the knees to hook two hands below your thighs. You cried out as you were lifted high, legs resting in his grip.

He did this with ease, as though you were weightless. Sitting down on the bed, he adjusted you so you could sit on his lap, facing away from him. You could see yourselves in the mirror.

Art hooked his legs between your knees and spread them open. You wiggled against his hold, embarrassed at your exposure. Your black, lacy underwear was displayed, t shirt bunching up at your hips. You couldn't bring yourself to snap at him to stop fucking with you because..

Well, you were eager, far more eager than you thought. Had you always harboured this feeling towards the clown?

You were crimson faced, lips quivering as you tried to make your expression as neutral as possible; He had you on his lap like he was actually Santa, and you were the one telling him what you wanted for Christmas.

The thought had you lowering your head in bashfulness. No innocent Santa would have you spread and bared like this one.

The expression Art made in the mirror was one of mock surprise, eyebrows high and mouth forming like a circle. Before you could even ponder about it, a large hand was brought down to your inner thigh, fingers inching their way further in, caressing the sensitive area before cupping your clothed sex.

You held your breath, staring stubbornly back at him in the mirror. His hand was warm, and you couldn't help but shudder at the feel of his hand trailing upwards slowly, dancing over your clitoris briefly, then your mound, and up to the waistband of your underwear.

His fingers dipped below the waistband, gauging your reaction, but you refused to give one. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, you felt his hand descend, lower and lower, fingers gliding over your silken lips before delicately resting over your hole.

You flushed darkly, gritting your teeth as Art made an even more astounded expression, shaking his head slowly as though to admonish you for the mess between your legs. His fingertips rubbed circles in the lubrication oozing out of you, dipping in slightly but never far enough.

A small sound escaped your throat, barely audible, but loud enough for him. A slow, smug smirk stretched his face wide, and you could only huff defiantly. "I-- That's not because of you! I was like this before you rudely interrupted, remember?" You pouted.

Art rolled his eyes, nodding his head in quick succession with a look of mock belief at your words. He knew you were lying and so did you. Then, with a sly grin, two fingers glided upwards towards your slippery clit.

You gasped that time, quiet but still embarrassingly deafening to yourself, gripping the fabric of his forearm tightly.

A tingling sensation flooded your system, your body shifting and legs widening. He continued to massage the area, direct and blissful. You bit your lip, unwilling to let him see how much you enjoyed this.

Art chuckled, shaking his head at you with a nasty grin, eyebrows low and cynical. His dark eyes swirled chaotically, full of challenge and amusement and something else.

Hand descending further into your soaked underwear, two fingers dipped into your slit, thoroughly lubricating his calloused fingers.

Art paused, winking at you in the mirror. You attempted to glare back at him in the reflection, but you lacked the effort, and instead your eyebrows were drawn together softly, lips parting as two fingers slid into you to the knuckles, delving deep and curling sinfully against your greedy walls.

"Oh!", you moaned, hips lifting instinctively. Art began to thrust his fingers into you deep and hard, listening to the lewd squelching and how it seemed to fluster you terribly.

The feeling was intense; you hadn't been properly touched in so long, so to feel his thick, rough fingers curling rhythmically within your hot core, it made your nerve endings sing and your hips buck.

You gripped his arm hard, gasping, body fully resting against his own, head lolled back against his shoulder. Arts shoulders shook with laughter, terribly amused by the sight of you falling apart, but he wanted more from you. He wanted to break you, he wanted to make an unintelligible mess of you.

You were so prideful, you'd never live this down.

A fist gripped your hair roughly, tangling the locks before his fingers began to pummel into you expeditiously. It was too much, too fast, and you couldn't help but kick your legs uselessly, crying out.

"Ah, ahh-- Stop it, too much--", you whined, panting as the sounds of your wetness became loud, thighs drenched. You could see in the mirror the way his hand moved ferociously, molding the fabric of your underwear.

Your pleas made him speed up, thrusting so hard and so fast you wailed, thrashing upon his lap and dampening the fabric of his costume.

This was what you wanted, you thought heatedly. You wanted someone to render you immobile, shatter your mind. The view of his sinister smirk boring holes into you was alluring, head forced backwards with the grip in your hair. It made heat prickle along your spine.

Your hips began to move with his fingers, desperately seeking more, any semblance of pride vanishing as you chased your high. Your constant grinding made you feel the thick, long length pressing up against your ass, and you couldn't help but moan wantonly, pushing yourself into it with need.

His hand was drenched in your fluids, and it made him snicker. If this was you now, imagine you later when he forced you to take his cock.

Suddenly, your underwear was torn off of you, exposing the image of his large hand going in and out, curling, and thrusting deeply. The visual was arousing, your eyes half mast and dilated.

His palm lifted suddenly and jerked back down with a quick, firm slap. You jolted, wincing at the sting it caused, but before you had a chance to return back to contentedness, it struck again.

Those sinful digits eased their way out of you, smoothing up the length of your puffy labia, cupping it soothingly. You sighed, panting lightly, body relaxed and pliant.

His hand was hot and it made you feel content.

This time, it was sharper, and you gasped, scrambling to sit up but being forced to remain where you were as an iron grip wrapped it's way around your midsection.

Again, that firm hand slapped your sensitive folds, and you whined miserably at the pain and pleasure it caused.

Your lips were beginning to darken red from his assault, and yet you were still undeniably wet from his ministrations.

Your legs began quivering from the overstimulation, and you drew them together, trapping his hand. He seemed to let you, tilting his head with a quirk of his lips.

"S-stop tormenting me. Can't take it, not today. Please, just..", you paused, gnawing at your lip; you didn't want to admit to him what you really needed.

Art blinked rapidly, almost innocently down at you. He held a cupped hand to his ear, his other hand waving for you to continue, as though to usher you to speak the words he knows you're going to struggle to admit.

You pouted petulantly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears from frustration and the light stinging of your folds. Your peak had been building, only to be abruptly halted.

"No," you groaned weakly, "don't make me say it, you asshole." Your words lacked any real ire, and instead sounded exhausted. You were so pent up, so desperate at this point. As soon as the offence left your lips, two fingers began circling around your clit, refusing to touch directly. Art all but smiled at you patiently, face splitting with glee.

You sighed softly at the soothing pleasure, head lolling back against his shoulder. It felt so good, and you tried to buck your hips to make his fingers slip over your clit, but to no avail.

This caused you to release a frustrated whimper, feebly bucking your hips again, but this time Art stopped his stroking altogether, fingers hovering above the area you needed them most.

"No, I-I'm sorry!", you rushed out insincerely, desperate for his touch. You could feel tears dancing along your lash line, threatening to spill pathetically.

"Don't stop. I.. I need this so badly. Please.", you relented, biting your lip nervously, eyes fluttering to the floor in shame. You felt that familiar vibration; he was laughing at you.

Even still, the clown did deliberate. On one hand, he could continue tormenting you. That would be fun, and it was the initial plan, but even he couldn't deny his mortal desires. He had a strong threshold for such matters; he wasn't often interested enough.

If anything, he never paid enough attention to whether it was a man or a woman that he was maiming. That only goes to prove how disinterested he was in the whole affair of carnality.

This situation was unique, however. He was bound to a human he had once killed, who had just as miraculously as him managed to rise from the dead, and was stuck with you for ever. And, you are a woman. He couldn't damage you terribly, and he couldn't kill you. What better way to make you submit to him than by fucking your prideful, spiteful, hot-headed little self into the bed?

You were so easy to aggravate, spitting venomous insults and screeching in anger at him. That was all well and good, but he wanted to see the look on your face when he pummelled you dumb.

If death was out of the question, then immobilising you with his own body would have to do.

Gripping your waist tightly, Art maneuvered your body with ease, spinning you in his lap until both your thighs sat either side of him. A hand held your lower back firmly against his body, standing up halfway to tug down the bottoms of his Santa costume. They fell to his knees, and he promptly sat back down, grinning.

You hovered over his thick length, flushing red in anticipation. Hands finding leverage upon his shoulders, you let your wet lips rest against the tip, shivering as you did.

He felt big. You hadn't really managed to look at it, but from the feeling you knew he was going to split you open.

He seemed to be barely touching you, grinning cheekily as he awaited your next move. His cooperation made you uneasy, you wondered what he had planned.

The thought disappeared swiftly as you bared your hips down onto him, letting the tip nudge past your swollen lips, sinking in an inch or two.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the beginning of his girth and pausing in your descent. "I-I haven't done this in a while and you feel--mmm-," you bit your lip, sinking down a further inch, your insides pulsating and stinging.

You squeezed him tightly, walls rippling and attempting to mold to his shape. You gasped again, lips parting in surprise as you lowered slowly, delicately, his size stretching you.

You gripped his shoulders, fabric bunching up in your hands. Your thighs were shaking from the effort it took to descend patiently. Even with how wet you were, his hot length dragged against your insides, another inch being enveloped in your tight heat.

"Nng, its--so big", you breathed shakily, eyes glistening again. Art observed your pained expression in awe, smirking and winking at your compliment.

Two hands held your hips tightly, fingers digging in to the delicate flesh. You sighed delightedly at the contact, not at all preparing yourself for the sinister spark in the clowns eyes, before he slammed your hips down into his forcefully, tearing through you and settling within you to the hilt.

You cried out woefully, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as a pained sob was wrought from you. He could feel you shaking against him, panting against his ear, and couldn't help but chuckle nastily at your pain.

"W-wait, I need to adjust--", you began softly, voice quivering, but was given no time as Art lifted you up to the tip then dropped you back down. Your soft ass slapped against his lap, a horrible pain mixing with pleasure inside of you.

"It hurts! You're too big--!", you whined pitifully, tears dripping from your eyelashes. You gripped around his neck hard, body contorting in pain, shallow breaths hitting his ear.

Art knew this. You were so tight he had to grit his teeth, but he revelled in the concoction of pleasure and pain that wracked your body. You were too weak to fight him, trying to lift yourself off of him only to collapse back down, crying out as he filled you again. He could feel your tears soaking into his costume, and it made his cock fill with blood.

You were so full, the stinging sensation unbearable, and as he lifted you again, dragging your sodden hole off of him, he thrust up into you, letting your hips drop as he met you halfway and slid in.

A surprised moan was torn from your lips, a boiling heat enveloping your body as pleasure tingled and spread throughout your nerves. Art enjoyed your pitiful, pained cries, but he knew that the pain began to melt away as your breathing went from shallow, pained pants to breathy exhales.

The stinging became a dull sensation in the background, your insides igniting blissfully as those strong hands lifted you up once more, sliding all the way out before filling you up rhythmically.

"Mmm, Oh-", you moaned breathily, lips permanently parted. You no longer contorted your body awkwardly and instead began to melt against him, curling about his form needily.

Your hips began to take control, moving up and down his rock hard length, eyes closed against his shoulder as he emptied you and filled you over and over, thrusting up to meet your downward motions hard, filling you deep.

"Yes--Oh--", you couldn't stop the noises tumbling out. He wasn't even doing much, merely meeting your thrusts, but he was so big and long and thick and mouthwatering-

"Need more", you whined weakly, nuzzling your face against his neck, the fur of his Santa costume tickling your nose. "Please.", you added softly, thighs shaking so badly you didn't have the energy to lift yourself up fully.

Instead, you lifted your hips half heartedly, attempting to at least try, feeling that over whelming pleasure every time he thrusted upwards into you.

Each downward pull made you needy, and each thrust had you seeing stars. You could feel the grin on his face beside your cheek, body moving with silent chuckles. You were so responsive, feeling those big hands trail from your hips and down to your soft globes, pulling the cheeks apart.

You could feel your hole opening, feel his rigid length sinking in even deeper. You realised that he could probably see himself driving into you from the mirror reflection, your sopping core on full display as it sucked him in greedily.

You peered over your shoulder curiously, lidded eyes honing in on the mirror. The erotic visual had you writhing in his grasp, gnawing at your lip as he stared right back at you, lifting a hand to wiggle his fingers at you.

It was weirdly humiliating, but before you could turn away to nuzzle back into his neck and hide, his hand was brought down sharply in a loud slap upon one of your round cheeks.

You gasped, lips parting as your gaze remained frozen on his slowly retreating hand, waiting with bated breath, before it bared down upon your jiggling flesh again, and again, and again.

Your body jerked each time, a gasp escaping upon each impact, but your eyes couldn't leave the sight behind you, infinitely aroused at how displayed you were, at how massive he looked below you.

Art soothed the red handprints on your cheek with a gentle rub, looking at you in the mirror with mock concern, lips pouting out at you as though you were the cutest little thing.

You couldn't handle the embarrassment any longer, and turned back around to wrap your arms around his neck, thighs giving out below you. Two hands returned to your ass again, before gliding up into you faster this time, one thrust after another, drawing longer moans out of you.

The increase in pace made you writhe upon his lap, mewling in delight. You let yourself be manhandled, swiftly reaching down to grip two hands at the bottom of your t shirt and rip it over your head.

Your breasts bounced free, nipples teased against his body with each thrust, igniting a white hot sensation directly to your clitoris. You moaned a lot deeper this time, mouth below his ear, gasping and mumbling pleas.

Art reached a fist into your locks and wrenched your head back, hearing you wince and watching the sultry way you bit your lip at his rough actions.

You finally made eye contact with him, face to face, your complexion a dark pink. You put up no fight against his hold, even as he wrapped his fist tighter and pulled your head back hard. Your neck was bared, and you watched those charcoal eyes drop smoulderingly to your jiggling breasts.

His teeth attached themselves to your neck, biting and caressing the column of your throat, before finding an appropriate area and sinking his teeth in hard.

You cried out noisily, the sound pleasurable but stunted by pain, sounding more like a yelp. The harder he bit, the faster he fucked you, and you were soon delirious on the pain and pleasure, feeling his teeth latch on harder and harder until warm liquid oozed from the puncture of your skin.

Tears dripped from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as you hiccupped and sobbed, your neck pulsating painfully. You didn't fight him, so caught up in the way he split you open.

The demonic clown paused, drawing back from your bruised and swollen neck, eyes flickering from the blood trickling down to your collar bone, and all the way up to your sparkling eyes, tears streaking your cheeks.

You winced, hair still wrenched back, moaning weakly at the pain, your breathing turning shallow again.

A hand cradled your jaw, thumb wiping a stray tear, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the warm palm, comforting and big. It wasn't often he got to see your tears. The sight made him want to make you cry more, spill those fat droplets from your eyes.

Art tilted his head a fraction, inquisitive at your display of affection. You seemed to latch onto him, needing to be touched, gripping at him and melting against him. It was a far cry from your usual self.

His fingers moved down to the puncture wounds on your neck, pressing onto the tender flesh and making more tears spring from your eyes. It felt bruised and the skin was beginning to rise.

Blood dripped down your neck, and he used two fingers to swipe a clean line up your neck, coating his fingertips in the red substance.

Your eyes honed in on his crimson fingers, alight with need. Art tilted his head the other way, deciphering, and burned his gaze through your intimate display as you gripped at his hand and brought his fingers to your lips.

You suckled the tips, cleaning the crimson off of him, before taking his fingers into the back of your mouth, lathering them slowly.

Your own fingers dipped into the wound, wetting the digits red, before you hesitantly brought them towards his lips. His thrusting slowed, eyebrows lifting minimally, a shard of surprise running through him at your carnality. Your blood was alluring enough to halt his ministrations.

Finally, that dangerous mouth opened, slowly enveloping your smaller digits, tongue curling around them sinfully.

Your stare was unwavering, blinking from his mouth to his eyes before settling on those wretched depths. They swallowed you whole, scrutinizing your own visage. His smiling had long since ceased, a stern neutrality overcoming him even as you drew your fingers back and wrapped your arms around his neck to press your bloodied lips onto his.

The urge overcame you, tongues battling against one another messily. The remnants of your blood mixed between your lips, a soft moan of delight escaping you.

You never thought you'd be kissing this maniac. It sent heat coursing through you, borderline delirious from the feel of being so wrapped up in a being that was so dangerous.

Your passion resumed, hips lifting enough to feel the drag of his dick in your tight heat, before gliding back down with a light slap of your ass against his lap.

You were so wet it began to lather your inner thighs, dripping down your legs and coating his balls.

Your desire began to reignite, no longer a simmering heat and instead increasing to a boiling wave that overcame you. You grinded your hips, breaking your lips apart to gasp at his depth.

Art became watchful of your eager display, letting you pleasure yourself with his body. You leaned back, arms around his neck and extended straight so that you still had some leverage, and moaned wantonly as your position changed and his cock began to stimulate that lovable spot deep within you.

"Oh fuck--mmm--", your head lolled back, tits bouncing rhythmically as you increased your pace. You could barely hold your moans in now, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his length hitting you just right.

Art recognized the increase in your pitch and the way your body moved desperately upon his, and grinned. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, gripping handfuls of your jiggling ass and beginning to meet your movements with his own, fucking up into you hard.

"Yes, right there, oh my god-", your legs were no longer folded below you, resting back on your knees. You had swiftly moved them, sitting fully into his lap now with your legs extended either side of his waist. This added even more depth to his movements. You could no longer grind your body against his, simply taking whatever he gave you.

"It's so deep, oh-" you began to quiver, needing so much more,  but all he could do was smirk down at you amicably, as calm as ever, watching you fall apart as each thrust directly pummelled into that spot.

You felt like ripping your hair out in frustration, body squirming upon his own in distress. Each thrust was like a shot of an addictive drug, filing you up and making you feel so high, but you needed that unrepressed carnality that you craved.

Shaking your head with a pinched expression of dismay, you leaned forward to wrap your arms fully around his neck once again, head resting on his shoulder as you whimpered.

His rigid length bruised against your cervix, hands on your hips and holding you down just to get that inch deeper. You were shaking, exhaling little 'ohh's into his neck, eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't care anymore; Need it harder", you whined pathetically, warming his neck with your hot breath; you were starting to crack. "Please fuck me. Need you so bad. Making me feel so fucking good-Oh--"

Your waist was gripped in a bruising force, lifting your body up and down like a pliant doll, fucking you vigorously. Your sweet admittance sent a thrill through his body, so he supposed out of the kindness of his heart, he could cease his teasing. For now.

Art gave you a lascivious smirk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. With a slight shrug and a nod, he seemed to silently agree with himself that it was time to get serious.

The world around you blurred as you were thrown onto the bed, hips forced into position. Your body bared itself on hands and knees and you tentatively peered upwards towards the mirror, fists clenching into the quilt in anticipation.

You watched the large, looming clown settle behind you, swallowing your body whole. With a playful wave at your watchful gaze, Art thrust forward and buried himself within you.

Your breath escaped your lungs in a silent gasp, body lurching forward from the force as he held you in place and began fucking you deep and fast.

He didn't tease you this time. Everything that had happened previously had been leading up to this moment, and it was mind shattering.

Repetitive 'uh's and 'ohh's sprung from you at each thrust, his cock splitting you open well and good just like you've craved for so long. He felt massive in this position, your velvety insides hot and tighter.

Gliding out until the tip, he'd push back in smoothly, coated in your arousal. It drove you wild, the lewd smacking of skin and wet squelching that increased more and more as he drove in faster, harder.

Your knuckles were white from how hard you gripped the bedding, unintelligible praises falling from your lips at the way he made you feel.

" 'm so full, oh my god-", you cried almost lovingly at the sublime feeling of him tearing through your snug heat, near enough bruising your cervix.

With a cynical pout down at you, mockingly awed by your kind praises of his ample size, Art reached forward to grab a fistful of your hair, wrenching your body backwards so your back bowed enticingly. It made your ass look rounder, made it jiggle and ripple more against his unrelenting thrusts. It hypnotized him, his cock rock hard.

Your upper body was suspended by the hand in your hair, and you could now clearly see how ravaged you looked in the mirror. The looming Santa behind you dwarfed your figure, all jagged smile and wiggling eyebrows at your pleasured expression.

Your tits bounced prettily in the reflection, witnessing the way his normally piercing gaze faltered and darted down to the erotic scene, before darting back up to your face. His smirk appeared lascivious at being caught, and he gave a comical, light shrug.

For some reason, an infernal fire roared within you at that; This creature was evidently attracted to your feminine form. It made you moan louder, reaching forward to play with your round globes teasingly, jiggling them with your incessant fondling, biting your lip at him in the mirror.

You were becoming feral for him.

Art cocked an eyebrow, head tilted in rampant interest at your display. That same jagged smile returned, and almost as a reward, he leaned forward and circled two calloused fingers over your sensitive clit.

Your reaction was instantaneous, legs shaking and body jerking at the intense pleasure. It made you nearly collapse forward if not for the grip in your hair, his cock still relentlessly spearing you.

"Fuck, just like that, ohh--", you cried blissfully, shuddering. Arts expression appeared sternly concentrated on your exclamations and the way your body sucked him in greedily. His thunderous expression was terrifying, but it only served to increase the heat within you tenfold, your body pliant and melting into his ministrations.

He shattered your equanimity, your mind turning to mush and only thinking of his thick hands and his fat cock-

Your thighs were violently quivering, struggling to not collapse. Your moans increased in pitch, high and breathless and weak.

" 'M so close, your cock feels so fucking good and I'm going to cum, im--ohh!"

Your body was roughly dropped, a violent hand forcing you into the bed. Your ass remained high while your cheek laid itself upon the blankets, face contorting in mindless, pleasurable relief as those murderous hands gripped at your hips and began fucking into you so expeditiously you wailed.

His heavy balls slapped your clit with each filling thrust, teasing the bundle of nerves to the point your knees began to quake, on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck, fuck!", you shrieked in repetitive succession, breathing erratically as his thick, long, veiny cock fucked you so good that you just burst-

Your knees did collapse this time, but firm hands kept your hips situated perfectly to receive his godly pistoning. With a high, keening noise you didn't know you could ever make, so desperate and whorish, your pussy contracted and gushed.

Your thighs were soaked and dripping, your bedding ruined. You could feel the way his grip tightened bruisingly on your hips at the feeling of your insides pulsating steadily, milking him, demanding he fill you up like you craved.

Your self consciousness and any semblance of pride were shattered into a million pieces at the mind numbing euphoria you felt. It enveloped your entire body in a blanket and made you feel like you were floating. Your insides fluttered intensely making your breathing erratic and short.

Your face was forced even further into the bed as you reached two arms back, planting a hand on either side of your round cheeks.

With a flushed, fucked out visage staring back at Art from the way your face was turned on its side, you spread your enticing cheeks apart, moaning. "Need you to fucking fill me, need you to fuck me so full please please-"

Art couldn't deny the intense arousal that shot through his body and engorged his cock unnaturally further. Your dainty fingers spread your cheeks so far apart he could see the way your hole split around his length, the muscles parting forcefully at his intrusion. Your virgin, tight puckered hole caught his attention the most, and he moved a thumb to rub the area tenderly, a promise that he'd make you scream yourself hoarse the day he managed to fit his cock into that narrow passage.

You'd cry, he'd make sure of it, and the thought and the visual in front of him was enough to have him seizing your hips so strongly that they would bruise, fucking you brutally and hearing your sobs of pain and pleasure, before his hips stuttered once, twice against your cervix and a flood of hot, ropey squirts painted your insides.

He filled you so deeply it made your body think it needed to pee, if only to expel the amount of cum within you. It was unnatural, but he wasn't a mortal. If anything, the absurd amount made you melt dreamily into the bed, thoroughly fucked and bred and satiated for the time being.

You felt the clown retrieve himself, sliding out with a lewd squelch. Your hole gaped and quivered, his cum oozing out of you messily and coating your thighs. You moaned pleasantly at the feeling of two fingers scooping out the sloppy mess, coating his fingers with it before pushing them into your mouth. You accepted the gift, a noise of delight escaping you.

It made you want to suck his cock and have him fill your mouth until you choked. The thought was arousing, clitoris pulsating lightly as you reached down and rubbed it in lazy circles.

His body moved behind you, two hands gripping your ass cheeks before a hot, long tongue nudged your fingers aside and lapped at your clit. You moaned wantonly, pushing your hips back into his ministrations, feeling that heat invade your abdomen again, signalling another orgasm.

"Oh God, fuck, your tongue feels so-feels so--", you cried out as two fingers sunk into you to the knuckles, pushing the sloppy cum back into your hole dirtily, all the while his tongue lapped at and lathered your clitoris, licking broad, rough stripes up the bundle of nerves until you were a whining mess.

"Fuck, fuuuck, don't know if I want your tongue or your cock more, mmm-"

Art chuckled into your sodden pussy, eyebrows low and sinister. You were shameless, your pleasure ridden brain void of anything else other than the need to be fucked dumb.

A high pitched cry of pleasure tore him out of his condescending thoughts about you, his mouth drenched in your splattering orgasm. His fingers curled within you, brutally fondling that area that had you outright weeping into the pillows.

Little 'too much!'s and 'stop!'s were cried out to him desperately, your body convulsing as though you were possessed. Wiping his mouth, Art sat back and admired his work.

You were panting, pleading in a high pitched, pathetic tone. Your body was overwhelmed, tired and bruised, and Art sat back on his knees and thought for a moment, hand to his chin.

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling in brief contemplation, and then he shrugged, situating himself behind you again.

You whimpered at the feeling of him forcing his sturdy cock into your puffy walls once more. The sound you made was strangled and weak, drool dripping down your chin shamelessly, body losing function of itself. You were crying openly, brought deeper and deeper into a submissive sort of headspace.

He grinned sharply, his cock hardening at the sight of your pathetic state. He bet he could make your body lose all inhibition and piss itself. You'd be so ashamed, and he'd make you lick the liquid off of his cock; a good girl for Santa.

He began to fuck you, patting your messy hair adoringly. You whimpered and wailed, pleading for more, pleading for less. But he found that he wasn't finished with you just yet. You wanted this, didn't you? You told him so yourself.

With a comforting stroke of your hair, Art smiled mockingly down at you, pouting his lips out at your cuteness. He couldn't go back on his word; he was going to fuck you until you couldn't walk.

Thrusting into you, your mouth opened in unbridled pleasure.

The comforting stroke of your hair turned sinister, gripping a fistful up to the root.

Your pretty, wet eyes stared back at him over your shoulder, lips quivering.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Epilogue

You had fallen unconscious. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point that you begged him to stop, crying so much that you couldn't breathe. Art adored your tears, awed and fascinated by them. The only reprieve you were given was your exhausted, slumped body falling soundly asleep. It was exquisitely blissful, but too much to bear.

You awoke with a weak groan, pushing yourself up to a seated position. You were naked in the blankets, but Art seemed to have the decency to clean you up slightly, your inner thighs dry and not at all the mess that they were a few hours prior. That was oddly sweet of him. And unexpected.

You wrapped a dressing gown around your body, wincing as you stood on shaky legs. Your insides felt battered and bruised, your hips dark with fingerprints. Making your way downstairs, your eyes were sleepy and lidded as you switched the kettle on to make yourself a coffee.

You had a moment of peace to yourself, or so you thought.

In came strolling that demonic clown, looking as fresh as a daisy and wide awake as he bounced preppily over to you, plonking his cup down beside yours in a silent request that he, too, wanted something hot to drink. Preferably hot chocolate.

He no longer adorned his Santa costume, instead dressed as he usually was in that monochromatic suit, face paint as immaculate as ever. He smiled down at you dazzlingly, or as brightly as a demonic entity could, patting your head like you were a golden retriever before grabbing the hot chocolate that you had barely stirred with your spoon and taking a seat at the table, newspaper in hand.

You eyed him warily, exhausted, and felt a small amount of embarrassment flourish within you at how normal he was acting and how drained you felt and looked and..

Not to mention the memories of last night either. You promptly locked them away in a box and threw away the key for now.

You reached up to grab a box of cereal from the shelf and sighed. You couldn't be bothered to eat right now, even though your stomach was grumbling noisily.

What you didn't expect was for a white hand to flash in your peripheral, grabbing it for you, before gripping your hips and spinning you to face him.

The pressure on your hips made you visibly wince, and Arts expression turned to one of shock, mouth an 'o' and eyebrows high. You frowned weakly at him before pushing his hands off of you with barely any effort behind it.

"Hurts." You pouted up at him, shaking your head lightly. You felt so weak, you really needed to replenish yourself and eat something.

Art cooed down at you, pinching your cheek lightly. You scowled now and moved away from him, thoroughly drained. He could sense that your usual fire had been doused at the moment, and held a finger up to represent a lightbulb moment.

Before you could contemplate it, you were picked up bridally and sped into the living room, making you squeal and giggle breathily. Art dumped you onto the settee, turning the TV on and putting on a horror film.

He jumped beside you, blanket covering both yours and his legs, and you couldn't help but smile dreamily at him.

He fucked you good and hard last night, and now wants to watch one of your favourite horror movies? What a gentleman. Art deadpanned at your bizarre expression, clicking his fingers in front of your eyes to snap you out of it. You only smiled wider, eyes crinkling.

"You know, you're sooo sweet when you want to be."

Art comically guffawed at your admittance, shaking his head swiftly to deny such a thing, lifting a finger to the side of his head and twirling it in a clockwise motion to signify you were crazy for ever thinking something like that.

The overly dramatic, rare expression had you giggling again, soft and sweet. Art rolled his eyes at you, waving you off as though to say 'yeah, okay, don't get used to it'.

Seeing this as a prime opportunity to tease, you were swiftly silenced as a slice of cake was shoved into your mouth. You don't know..where he got that, but he was a clown, after all, and it tasted edible.

Sighing contentedly, you chewed the sweet treat slowly, watching as the scene on TV displayed a possessed woman in the shower, scorching water melting her skin as she carved her mouth apart with glass.

You loved this movie, and Art seemed intrigued, cackling silently beside you. Wrapped up in the blanket, you leaned against him comfortably, and he seemed unperturbed by it, eyes honed in on the screen.

You don't know why he was being so gentle with you. Art never did things unless he wanted to, and that was enough of an answer for you; he simply wanted to act this way right now. Even still, it made you feel warm, and you supposed living eternally together wouldn't be so bad.

Well, that was until you fell asleep, awoken by the chill of having your thighs spread apart and cake smeared all over your puffy, abused folds.

"Art! What the hell are you doing?! I told you I'm in pain--"

Art chuckled evilly, leaning down to lick a gentle stripe up your icing covered lips, savouring the sweet taste.

Your breath hitched, but you still held your hands against his shoulders, faced etched with nervousness. "P-please don't. Can't..can't handle it right now."

Art tilted his head a fraction, staring up at you in awe. You had retracted to that submissive headspace again, and he found that he relished it. Repressing a cheeky grin, Art held his hands up placatingly, schooling his expression to one of neutrality, or rather barely masked amusement, and used his finger to draw an imaginary X over his heart.

"You mean you won't..be too much? Really? I'm having a hard time trusting you, you're literally grinning at me right now..." You huffed, expression incredibly wary.

Art covered his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clenched as he grinned and laughed. Even still, he coughed once, face falling flat to prove he was.. moderately serious about being gentle with you.

In truth, he just wanted to eat your juicy pussy and hear you moan his name again. He bet he could get you to ask him nicely to fuck you.

For added effect, Art splayed his wide hands on your thighs and tickled the skin with either thumb, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. Again, you had that dopey, dreamy expression on your face, and he began to think he really did damage your mind last night.

"Fine, just..be gentle, okay? I'm in no mood to quarrel today."

Art shrugged lightly. He kind of felt the same. It was refreshing hearing your soft voice instead of your screeching one of anger, or seeing your fluttering eyes at him rather than your stone cold ones.

Who knew that fucking you silly would make you so tame, so pliant. It was rather funny. Guess it proves that all you needed was a bit of dick to calm you down.

And Art was feeling surprisingly generous today. With a quirk of his lips, he settled between your thighs and placed them onto his shoulders.

Tongue darting out to lick up from your hole to your clitoris, he lathered the nub gently, lowering his lips to suckle it.

You gasped softly, widening your legs for him and biting your lip. The pleasure was instant, a heat boiling in your abdomen and fluttering down to your toes.

He was good at playing the part of devoted and gentle, and gripped at your hand delicately, lacing his fingers with your own in an intimate display. He watched you blush a pretty pink, mouth parting in awe at his uncharacteristic tenderness.

As you stared into his smouldering eyes, he smothered your clit beautifully, making you moan and buck your hips up into him.

He knew the moment your moans turned deep and sultry as he prodded a finger at your entrance, that you'd soon be backtracing your words and pleading with pouty lips that he fuck you gently.

There was an undeniable connection between you both; you were bound, after all, and even he wasn't immune to the effects of it. He'd still aggravate you, and absolutely wreak havoc on your wanting body, but he also rather enjoyed the peaceful tenderness of these moments, save for your breathy moans and the sounds of someone dying on the TV.

It made him feel peculiarly content. With a smirk into your sodden folds, Art thrust a finger into you deeply, standing between borderline pleasurable and 'too much', as you had said.

You had yet to berate him, he noted.

Within a few minutes, you were a mess down there, soaked and sticky with cake. He remained true to his word, not at all being rough, and instead holding you delicately in warm hands as he sucked and licked at your glistening folds.

"Art, it's the best part of the movie- Ah--"

He rolled his eyes at you, though did spare a single glance at the screen when he heard the sound of a chainsaw.

In no time, you were panting and reaching your peak, soft cry breathed into the air as his fingers curled and pumped into you, tongue massaging your clit. You gushed down his wrist, quivering.

Art smiled innocently up at your flustered self, imitating dabbing his mouth clean with a napkin. He jumped up and sprung beside you once more, pulling you into his sturdy lap and leaning back comfortably.

His eyes didn't leave the screen, fully focused.

You shifted, wiggling to get comfortable and felt his hard dick pressing against you. You bit your lip and glanced at him guiltily - you had just proclaimed that you were in pain today, and now you were having thoughts of him fucking you?

You settled back against him, flushed and buzzing with arousal. The film was almost over. Art grinned behind you, eyes ablaze with mischief. He knew what you wanted, but like you said, he was missing the best part of the movie.

Maybe if you're lucky, he'll fuck you later. But for now, you'd sit tiredly spent against his chest, chuckling at the brutal massacres on screen. More cake miraculously appeared, which always helped. It was pressed against your lips forcefully and you were more than happy to take it, humming in delight.

"Who'd have thought that you killing me all those years ago would evolve into this.", you smirked at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You're actually really cute. No idea how I never noticed it before." Your girlish expression lit up your face, eyes sparkling.

Art looked exasperated at your comment and shrugged. He smiled cheekily, pointing at himself as if to bashfully say "who, me?"

Your giggles rung throughout your home, his silent laughter making your body move. You felt a sense of contentment - a partner in crime to maim people with and to fuck you dumb.

Your eyes swirled black, corrupt and tainted, and promptly shut sleepily.

What could be better than this?

i need him so bad. this is pure smut. i made an epilogue to add fluffy things but it turned into smut 💀

also this isn't related to sporadic contingency at all, its just a standalone fic x

[torpublishinggroup]

"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune

(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)

1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.

2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.

3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.

4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.

5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.

6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!

Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.

[thebiggerbear]

where is she?

Summary: Soldier Boy only has one thought in mind when Homelander wakes him up: you.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Wrote this on July 29th. This was meant to be a drabble and I was going to experiment with a different format at the time but after taking another look at it close to a month later, I decided against it. I haven't seen Season 4 of The Boys yet but I did see a gif on here of something from the finale in regards to SB. This idea popped into my head that day and I wrote it out. Starts from the Tower scene in 3x08, an AU. Unbeta'd. Full dialogue in text is from 3x08.

Warnings: drug use; violence; violence against a woman; choking (not Butcher/Boys friendly)

Word Count: 1019

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

SB Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy

@solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @faephoria

@believeinthefireflies95; @globetrotter28

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @rebel-paladin; @deans-spinster-witch

@bts24; @roseblue373; @nancymcl; @c1gs-coffee; @peachhiz

@kickingitwithkirk; @fanfic-n-tabulous; @illicithallways; @mentallyillandgae

You can also read on AO3

You burst into the room from the stairwell, finding Ben trying to fight three of your new supposed teammates off, his eyes full of fury and a slight tinge of fear immediately finding you as they slipped a mask over his face. “I’m not…going back…in that fucking box!”

“Get off of him! Now!” You angrily yelled, energy pulsing from your hands as you tried to rush them when Butcher caught you off guard and knocked you into a wall on his way to get to Ryan. 

“Sorry, luv.” His expression was full of trace amounts of remorse as he turned from you but you didn’t care. Your attention was on Ben alone.

When Ben saw you slam into the wall, even more fury seemed to emanate from him and he was finally able to push everyone off. His chest was a bright pulsing red that continued to get brighter and brighter; he was charged up and he was about to blow.

“You’ll kill everyone!” Starlight implored.

Ben’s expression didn’t change and you knew you had to get to him before he went off. You didn’t care about any of them, especially now, and you didn’t care for yourself. But Ben you cared about and you wouldn’t let him do this — not again. 

“Ben!” You called. 

Within the seconds it took for you to get to your feet, Maeve was already launching herself at him and they crashed through the window of the high rise, plummeting stories below. “No!” You rushed to the edge, watching their freefall in horror. “BEN!” You screamed before the impact of the explosion sent you careening backwards.   

When Soldier Boy was woken for the second time, uncaring who was there to greet him, he only had one question. “Where is she?”

America’s Asshole of a Son, now suited up, stared out at the city from Homelander’s newly renovated suite. His own son watched him, keeping his hands clasped behind his back.

“It could all be ours, you know.”

“Don’t care,” Soldier Boy growled out. “Where’s Butcher?”

Homelander sighed in disappointment and approached. He didn’t know much about the man whose blood he shared but one thing was for certain: Soldier Boy was laser focused when it came to revenge. He just happened to be focused on the wrong thing.

When he reached the older man, he studied him for a moment before nearly rolling his eyes. “You actually loved her.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Soldier Boy turned a lethal glare onto him, his pupils dilated from the drugs coursing through his system that he’d just snorted, but it still caught him a little off guard. Homelander didn’t feel shame or remorse; those were human feelings and he was a god. But right then, he felt like a small child scolded by that dark gaze and his shoulders subconsciously lowered an inch.

“Find me Butcher or I will find him on my own,” the Supe threatened before walking away. Homelander watched him go, angry that even while dead you somehow still managed to fuck with his plans.

Right before Soldier Boy was about to strike a killing blow to Butcher, Hughie yelled, “She’s alive!” The Supe froze and turned a scowl onto Butcher’s dickrest. 

“I promise,” the bitch insisted. “I can tell you where she is! Just don’t kill him. Please.”

Soldier Boy’s glare dropped to the man swaying in his hold, his face bloodied, bruised, and swollen. The supe's jaw tensed and he dropped the man to the ground, making him a silent promise that he would still pay for his betrayal, before his eyes landed on Hughie. “Take me to her. And you better be telling me the fucking truth or you’re never going to get to feel the warmth of this fucker’s mouth again.”

Hughie’s eyes widened but he gave a nod. A hint of a smirk teased the corner of Soldier Boy’s lips for a moment and then disappeared completely. Before following the bitch out the door, he gave Butcher one last kick for good measure.

Soldier Boy tightened his grip on Grace Mallory’s throat and lifted her body higher up the wall. He ignored Hughie’s whiny pleas of not hurting the old bitch. “Open it,” he ordered. “Now.”

Hughie did just that. The supe could hear a whirring sound behind him and he intensified his glare at the woman he was currently choking out before turning to look over his shoulder. Out of a drawer, a cryotube emerged, looking quite different from the one he had been in when his pussy of a son had found him. His breath caught in his chest when he saw you inside, slumbering peacefully, tubes wrapped around your barely dressed body. Rage began to flow through his veins when he realized that you had been stocked away inside a fucking sock drawer like a second thought — like you had never mattered. You were the only thing that mattered.

He turned back to Mallory, gritting his teeth, and his body shaking with fury. He saw the lack of fear in her eyes and in a split second, his decision had been made. He flung her across the room, not caring about the sickening cracks he heard when she made impact. For good measure, when Hughie tried to run to her aid, he brutally knocked the kid aside and made his way towards you. Within seconds, he had the cryotube open and he ripped the wires from your body. He curled his arm around your shoulders and carefully hoisted you up into his lap.

A few heartbeats later, your eyes slowly began to open, your lashes fluttering repeatedly as you returned to consciousness. Your gaze struggled for a minute to focus on the image in front of you but when it did, you rasped out in disbelief, “Ben?”

A soft smile played upon his lips as he ferried your hand to his bearded cheek. “Yeah, doll. It’s me.” 

When you attempted to return his smile, he leaned down to whisper, “I found you,” before he gently pressed his mouth to yours.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[ninii-winchester]

Deepest Desire

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 2k

Warnings : angst, heartbreak, feelings of betrayal, alcohol, strong language, spoilers. Unedited.

A/n : This is a Supernatural x Lucifer crossover fic. I’ve only ever watched a few episodes of Lucifer. This is a work of fiction, I don’t own Supernatural or Lucifer. They belong to CW and Netlfix respectively.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Another day, another hunt. But it was nothing crazy. With Chuck being gone things are as normal as they could be. Y/n's friend had called in for help and she was happy to go. On her way back to the Bunker, her car stopped abruptly and wouldn't start. She slammed her hand on the steering wheel before calling Dean, filling him in on the situation.

"If only you'd let me take baby I would've been home by now." She groaned over the phone and she heard him laugh on the other side.

"My bad, sweetheart. You can take it next time." He chuckled before he added, "I'll be in an hour tops okay? Get some place safe."

"Yeah I see a bar its uh.. 'the tipsy tavern' I'll be there."

She hung up the phone and made her way towards the bar. It wasn't too far from where her car stopped, just a walking distance. She went inside and it was, well, typically how a bar is. She scanned the place thoroughly, her eyes landing on a woman with blond hair. She seemed troubled. She kept looking over her shoulder, continuously fidgeting with her hands.

Y/n walked up to her and slid in the stool beside her. The woman slightly jumped at the action and it didn't go unnoticed by her.

"Hey are you okay?" Y/n asked her, the woman eyed her cautiously before nodding.

"I'm fine." She replied curtly.

"Are you sure? You seem distressed." Y/n pressed hoping she could help somehow. The woman sighed, looking at her.

"You’d think I’m crazy."

"Try me." Y/n said mentally scoffing, what could this woman tell her that would be more unbelievable than what she deals with on a daily basis.

"I'm not from here."

"So you're a foreigner, are you lost?" Y/n questioned.

"No you don't understand." The woman seemed frustrated. "My name is Chloe Decker, I'm a detective." She said and Y/n nodded, urging her to continue. "I'm from LA. But this isn't my world." Chloe didn't know what it was about the woman infront of her that made her want to trust her.

"Your world?" Before Chloe could answer a man in a black suit takes a seat on the side side of Chloe.

"Well hello there. Made a new friend, did we detective?" The man spoke in a British accent.

"This is uh.." Chloe trailed off not knowing her name so Y/n quickly told her name. "This is Y/n." The man opened his mouth to say something but Y/n interrupted him.

"What do you mean this isn't your world?" She questioned.

"Well you see darlin' we were on a case, an then an explosion went off and we were here. I can feel the change in the cosmic energy around us." The man spoke.

"How do you feel the cosmic energies?" Y/n questioned the man.

"My bad lady, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Lucifer Morningstar." He said with a smooth voice.

"You're Lucifer? Like the devil Lucifer?" She questioned.

"Yes." He replied. "The devil Lucifer."

"That can't be." She said mostly to herself.

"I know it sounds implausible but-"

"You're dead. We killed you this isn't possible. You're not Lucifer. You can't be." She whisper yelled at the man who claimed to be Lucifer.

Chloe looked back and forth between Lucifer, the smirk on his face was long gone and it was morphed into a serious expression,

"Can we rewind back to when she said we killed you'." He said looking at Chloe who seemed even more troubled. "Who even are you?"

"God, this day couldn't get any worse." Y/n sighed. The trio had now shifted to a table for four. Chloe sat beside Lucifer and Y/n infront of him. She had foregone the glass and was now directly drinking from the bottle of whiskey. She needed as much as alcohol she could to process this.

"So, you're telling me, you hunt monsters and Lucifer of this universe was locked in a cage in Hell and then your..boyfriend's brother let him out and he wreaked havoc so you pushed him back inside and later killed him when he came back?" Chloe asked tasting the words on her mouth because it sounds absurd when said out loud.

"I know it sounds weird when you put it like that but yeah." Y/n said with humorless chuckle. "You weren't locked?" She asked Lucifer.

"No, Father just kicked me out from Heaven, I ruled Hell for a while but then I got bored so I came to Earth and I'm detective's partner now."

"Wow, so you're not a dick like he was. Our universe's Lucifer should've learned a thing or two from you." She scoffed. "Anyways, so if you have your mojo you can't teleport yourself back to your universe?"

"Mojo?" Chloe questioned.

"His powers." Y/n clarified and the former nodded.

"You I haven't actually tried if they're working." Lucifer admitted.

"Bit slow, aren't you?" Y/n sassed Chloe snorted, she found it amusing, this woman is sassing the devil himself.

"You seem so unbothered it's like it's just another Tuesday for you." Chloe commented and Y/n muttered a small 'tell me about it'. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she answered call the call. It was Dean.

"Hey I'm almost here. I saw your car and I'm heading to the bar now." He said.

"Alright cool. See you soon." She said hanging up. She looked at the couple infront of her. "Dean's here, I'll ask him if we can help you somehow."

"Thank you so much, Y/n." Chloe said gratefully smiling at her. The former nodded and mumbled a quick, 'I'll be back' before leaving the bar.

She waited a few minutes before she saw the black Impala pulling up. She watched her boyfriend get out the car and she made her way towards him.

"Hey gorgeous." He cupped her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss. "I could've come get you inside. You didn't have to wait outside." He said against her lips. She pulled away and bit her lip. Dean groaned as he recognised her expression.

~~~

"So you're telling me this Lucifer is British." Dean said looking at his girlfriend incredulously. The two of them had went inside and Y/n took her previous seat while Dean took one beside her.

"That's all you gathered from what I've told you?" Y/n asked her boyfriend and he shurgged. "Anyways, they need our help and i think we should help him."

"Really? You want to help the dick that possessed Sam and almost killed all of us twice?" Dean snapped. Lucifer seemed offended but he didn't comment.

"De, he's not him. That asshole is dead." Y/n added. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his gaze scrutinising Lucifer. He then looked at Chloe who seemed helpless and then at his girlfriend who was sporting a pout.

"Fine." Dean sighed. "We'll help, but that doesn't mean I trust you." He warned the devil who raised his hands in surrender.

"Lucifer why don't you see if your mojo works in this universe as well?" Y/n suggested. Lucifer closed his eyes doing God knows what.

"Woah woah stop." Dean said to Lucifer, then turned to Y/n, "What if he's as juiced up as the one we encountered and blows up the place?"

"You're right, I guess." Chloe chimed in and turned to her partner, "why don't you do the thing?" She said to him and he smirked, it's clearly something he loves doing.

"The thing?" Y/n questioned.

"It's nothing harmful. I promise." Chloe replied.

"Y/n dear." Lucifer calls her and she looks at him, he leans a bit towards her making Dean's protective side take over.

"Hey back off." Dean growled but Chloe put a hand over his arm.

"Its okay." She reassured him.

"Tell me Y/n, what is it that you truly desire?" Lucifer asked but his smirk dropped.

"Am I supposed to feel anything or should I just tell you?" She questions.

"This usually works." Lucifer says. "I think I don't have my powers here."

"What were you even trying to do?" Dean questions.

"He can read into people's heart, find their deepest darkest desires." Chloe answers. "Things that you never tell anyone."

"Well maybe it didn't work because I don't have a secret desire." Y/n commented making Lucifer and Chloe look at her in disbelief.

"Everyone has something they desire." He retorted. "Things they never tell anyone."

"I agree but mine isn't hidden or a big secret, for me its Dean." She shrugged. "My deepest desire is to have a normal life with him a house, family, kids, the whole nine yards." She spoke as if it wasn't a big deal and Dean swore he felt himself fall for her all over again. He pecked her temple and Chloe gushed at them.

"Interesting." Lucifer commented.

"If you can feel the cosmic energy around here I'm sure you have your powers. Why don't you try it on Dean?" Y/n suggested.

"I think she's right." Chloe added.

Lucifer faced Dean and the latter shifted a bit under his observing gaze. "Tell me Dean, what is it that you truly desire?" He questioned the Winchester and Y/n watched in anticipation awaiting his answer. A few seconds passed before he answered and nothing could've prepared her for Dean's answer.

"Amara." That one was enough for Y/n's world to come crashing down on her. She felt herself tear up but she cleared her throat before speaking.

"Well at least your still have your powers." Chloe could hear the heartbreak in her voice and gave her a sympathetic look. Lucifer, who found this situation amusing, asked,

"Who's Amara?" Dean sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at the man in front of him, who just smirked in return. What could you expect from him, he's the Devil after all.

"Your Aunt." Y/n snapped unintentionally.

"Why, must you be this childish?" He asked, feeling offended.

"No literally. Amara is God's sister, the darkness. She was here a while back before we locked her up." Y/n explained her voice void of any emotion.

"I've never heard of her. She didn't exist in my universe." Lucifer replied. He pinched the bridge of his nose before adding, "one thing I've realised you lot's universe is way fucked than ours."

"I'll call Sam and ask if we know a way to open a portal to another universe. Excuse me." Y/n said getting up from her chair and walking out the bar. Dean immediately trailing behind her.

"Baby, Y/n." He called out for her but she didn't stop. She let tears fall free now that she wasn't in front of a crowd. "Sweetheart listen to me." He caught up with and turned her to look at him. He hated seeing her cry and hated it even more when he was the reason for her tears. "I can explain, please just..-"

"What's there to explain, Dean?" She cried. She harshly wipes her tears. "Do you want to add salt to wound, tell me it's pitiful that you don't want me as much as I want you?" She let out a sarcastic laugh. "You know what I realised?" She asked rhetorically. "It's always something before me, your car, Sam, Amara, hunting. I'm probably the last thing you need in your life." The moment she said that Dean felt like someone had shot him in the heart.

"No baby, don't say that." Dean begged holding her close. "It's not true. I want you more than anything in this entire world." She scoffed before pulling away from him.

"I need to call Sam. Even if he's been harmless until now, we don't need another Lucifer prancing around our world." She put some distance between them before calling Sam.

"Harmless, my ass." Dean muttered as he kicked the dirt on the road.

He needed to make this right, he wouldn't be able to live if he ever lost her and he needs her to know that. He has to make it right and he will be damned if he didn't.

Part 2

[s7toru]

“spider! babe, there’s a spider in the house!”

your toast clatters on the plate as you drop everything and fling yourself onto the couch, four limbs scrambling to get off the floor. wide eyes seek out your boyfriend in the moment of chaos, and find him crouched on the tv stand, arms wrapped around the tv to hold him still. 

“where?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground. he doesn’t need to reply because you spot the creepy crawly darting cluelessly about on the carpet, eight legs crawling about in frantic panic. “oh my god, gojo! do something about it!” 

“are you kidding? you’re out of your mind if you think i’m getting anywhere near that thing!”

your mind blanks at his refusal. “you won’t have to get anywhere near it, dummy. just turn on your infinity and smack it or something!” 

gojo remains wrapped around the tv, already shaking his head even before the last of your sentence leaves your mouth. “that’s not how it works.” 

“really. then, please, remind me why you can’t just use your infinity to kill the spider.” 

“listen, even if it’s on i’ll still be aware that i’m squishing the bug. all its bug juice will splatter out all over me!”

“over your infinity.” you correct him. 

“you didn’t listen.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “i didn’t want to get rid of the wasp nest outside our house the other day either but i still had to do it. and i don’t even have something to keep them away from me!”

“you lost the rock paper scissors, i had no hand in that.”

“well.” you say. “technically you did. you had a hand, it was a rock.” 

gojo rolls his eyes. “don’t be dramatic, i was supporting you.”

“from inside the house.” you recall his face beaming at you through the window, hand flashing a thumbs up as you were armed with only a rake and your willpower, and your frown deepens.

“and yet, i was still supporting you.” gojo pauses, considering. “you did well, by the way. i’ve never seen anyone smack a wasp mid air like that.” 

the compliment lifts some anger off your shoulders and you grin. “thanks! i was proud of that too!” reality slaps you across the face, readjusting your expression. “wait, don’t think you can change the topic just by complimenting me.” 

he shrugs. “it was worth a try.” 

you pause. “does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

“no! you were actually cool.”

you smile again. “okay, thanks.” 

“the sound it made was really satisfying.” he adds.

“right? like pow.” you gesture an explosion with your hands and watch as gojo gives you a skeptical look.

“really? i thought it was more like thwack.” his voice turns all dramatic at the last syllable and you scoff at his attempt.

“if this was a marvel comic the sound effect that would show up would be pow. in all red too, with crazy fonts.” 

“this is like you saying math is red—”

“it is.” you cut in, matter-of-factly.

“you’re so wrong it hurts. english is red, math is blue.” 

“why would math be blue?”

“because i feel sad doing math.”

“okay fair. but english is green.”

“none of them is green.” 

you furrow your brows. not because of his horrid opinion, but because your eyes had found its way back on the ground. you notice a lack of legs, a lack of a small, black creature terrorising the carpet. "wait, where did the spider go?"

the complain on gojo's tongue dies, and he looks around, too.

your biggest fear becomes reality, and when you look back up at gojo to express your concern, it's there.

something was crawling up gojo’s arm. it fumbles up the fabric of his shirt, swimming through the folds. your mouth falls open but before you can scream out to warn him, gojo's eyes had already followed your gaze. “it’s on me!”

“flick it off!” you cry out in panic, weight shifting as you edge further away from him, though you were nowhere close.

gojo reaches up, prepping his fingers for an attack when you realise the trajectory was aimed towards you. 

“wait, babe! flick it away from us!”

“then we’re going to lose sight of it!” the skin of his finger was turning white at the strength building up behind the flick. if the impact wasn't enough to kill it, the speed in which it hits the surface would send it to the afterlife. “no time to think!” 

he releases his index finger from his thumb and the force smacks the spider head on. it’s a blur really, as the spider flies through the air. you gape at it horrified, watching as if in slow motion as it soars in a beautiful arc, and lands directly on the very top of your head. 

you wonder if your scream could shatter glass. considering that your house still had its windows, you realise it couldn’t. though, you’re sure if you were tested again that it wouldn’t end as cleanly.

“gojo!” you scream. “i don’t ask for much but can you please get it off me, i’m begging you!”

gojo steps down from the tv stand, relief on his face. “thank god it’s off the floor.”

“gojo!” 

“yes, yes.” he makes his way, slowly, painfully, over to you as you crouch frozen on the couch. something in his smile told you he was very pleased at the sight. was that a cramp creeping up your thigh? oh, how you were going to make him pay. “where did it go?” he asks, joyfully, dancing around you.

“don’t even joke.” you hiss at him, and he laughs, reaching over to let the spider walk on his finger. specifically, he lets the spider walk over his finger on his infinity. 

he holds it out to you with a proud smile. “there! we’re all safe and sound now.” 

you glare at him. “what happened to being deathly scared of the spider?” 

he shrugs. 

you reach over and flick the spider onto his face.

a/n: brainrot save me, save me brainrot

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knew something was wrong from Lena’s heartbeat. That alone, the barely detectable change in rhythm and tempo, was enough, but her breathing was erratic and as Kara drew nearer, drifting through the afternoon air, she could hear the soft sobs.

A bad feeling had come over Kara. Things had been quiet between the two of them ever since the wedding; there had been a strange tension between them on that happy day and Kara couldn’t say why

(she knew what she wanted it to be but didn’t dare hope)

and with Alex and Kelly away on their honeymoon, Kara had mostly been on her own. Nia was spending most of her free time with Brainy and Kara sensed a proposal coming, and she was busy preparing for her public interview with Cat Grant. She was going to rip the bandages off and reveal her identity. There was a great deal of work involved, and Kara had spent a lot of time fretting over the details, and in the back of her head she was worried about the ramifications of years spent reporting on Supergirl and using “her” as a source. It was a massive ethical dilemma, and thought it always made sense at the time…

Right now all that mattered was the heartbeat. Kara had been giving Lena the space she sensed she needed, but Jess had called Kara from the Foundation and told her that Lena hadn’t come to work in three days, and no one had heard from her. It was uncharacteristic of someone who ran her life with almost military precision. Kara had even asked Alex to text Lena, but they’d gotten the same single word replies.

Kara pulled in a big breath, feeling her stomach churn as she lighted on the balcony and slid open the door, knowing it would be unlocked. She wished Lena would stop doing that, but also felt a little tilt in her chest from knowing Lena hadn’t locked her out.

She was on the sofa, curled up on her side and asleep. She’d probably had the same pajamas on for two days and there were empty bottles of wine in a neat row on the table in front of her. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her cheeks a little raw. Kara felt an instant pang and reached for her, before stopping to deactivate her suit.

Kneeling next to the sofa, Kara touched her fingers to Lena’s shoulders. Lena woke instantly with a start, head jolting up as she sucked in a reedy breath and her heart raced explosively, sending a shock of terror up Kara’s spine.

“Oh fuck,” Lena blurted, kicking out her legs as she bolted upright. “Oh God, Kara what…”

“Hey,” Kara said softly. “I was… I’m sorry. Are you okay? I came in through the balcony. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lena’s chest heaved as she gasped for breath, staring at Kara with watery eyes. “Are you real?”

“What? Yes, of course I’m real.”

“I must have been dreaming. It was a dream. Just a dream. I was dreaming,” Lena muttered.

Kara rose from her knees and sat down on the couch.

“Come here.”

Lena almost crashed into her, wrapping her arms tightly around Kara and squeezing hard. She smoothed her fingers over the soft dark waves of Lena’s hair and pulled her in as she began to sob into Kara’s shoulder.

“I dreamed he killed you,” Lena choked out. “He came back again and he killed you and I couldn’t stop it. It felt so real.”

“I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Lena continued to sob, her entire body shaking with the force of it. Kara wrapped her in a fierce hug, trembling as she did.

“Every time I close my eyes he’s there, and when I’m awake all I can think about is that I killed my brother.”

“That didn’t happen in this timeline.”

Lena choked out an angry, frustrated sob. “It happened for me. I aimed a gun at my own brother’s chest and I pulled the trigger. And he came back! He came back and he almost killed you two or three fucking times, I can’t count.”

“He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“You can’t just say that!” Lena screamed into Kara’s throat.

Stunned, Kara softened her grip on Lena, only for Lena to pull her in harder, like she was trying to climb inside her.

“Why can’t I stop mourning him? He ruined my life. He was the person I trusted most and he turned out to be a monster. He used me my whole life and my emotions were just a game to him. He tried to to kill the woman I… tortured you, took you away for months and I thought I’d never see you again. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was and how much…”

Lena cut herself off with a sob.

“I know it’s not the same,” Kara murmured, “but when I was a little girl I worshipped my father. I wanted to grow up like him and do what he did. I was going to be a scientist too.”

“You’d have been a good one.”

Kara shook her head. “My father was responsible for the Medusa virus. A bioweapon designed to eradicate non-Kryptonian life. A weapon of genocide.”

Lena shuddered.

Kara swallowed, hard.

“My world wasn’t a paradise. It felt that way because it was simple for me. There wasn’t all the pain of learning alien ways and an alien language and controlling superpowers and everything else. My father taught and protected me and my mom maintained order. But it was wasn’t a paradise. My people were… Krypton was… I think in a lot of worlds out there, we were the bad guys. Okay, the Daxamites were slavers, but on Krypton people were born into the labor guild and did menial jobs their whole lives, while people like me were born into privilege. Is that much better?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don��t judge you for mourning Lex, Lena. He was your protector and your friend, and it was real to you. If there’s anything I hate him for, it’s hurting you.” Kara swallowed. “The one thing I can’t abide is anyone hurting you. I’ll break all my rules to keep you safe.”

Lena’s breathing eased and Kara could feel her relax.

“I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I figured you needed space. I wasn’t sure why but I trusted you to tell me if you need to.”

There was a long, heavy pause, and then Lena said.

“Kara, I can’t do this. I can’t share you.”

“Share me?”

“When you reveal your identity,” Lena pulled back, “you’re going to be the most famous person in the word. Everyone is going to be all over you. The press, politicians, everybody, and everyone who has a grudge against you or your cousin is going to know exactly where to find you, all the time.”

“I’ll keep you safe, no one will…”

“I didn’t say anything about me. You, Kara. What about you?”

“I’m Supergirl. I’ll be fine.”

“And what about me?” said Lena.

“I told you…”

“No. What about me when I have to watch you getting beaten to a pulp by another alien? What about me when you’re in a coma on the sun bed? What about me when I see on the news that a bomb went off in your apartment and I have to wonder if it was laced with Kryptonite shrapnel? I’m not worried about people coming after me. I’m a billionaire with magic powers. I could put on a goofy costume and join the club if I wanted. I’ve already lost you so many times and I can’t do it again.”

Stunned, Kara sat with her eyes wide, not sure when exactly she’d lifted Lena into her lap.

“It’s so selfish of me,” Lena went on. “You don’t belong to me. I don’t get to make demands of you. But don’t want you to out yourself. I don’t want to lose you again. As soon as you do this you’re going to be hounded by the whole world and they’ll claw you away from me again.”

Kara’s own heart raced now, hammering in her chest. Lena sounded so desperate and so sure, clinging to a Kara like she might disappear.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s your choice and I have to respect it. It’s okay,” she was clearly telling herself.

“No,” Kara choked out, “no it’s not. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“No. I have been. I can’t believe I said what I said to you at the wedding, about not being my authentic self. To you, of all people.”

Lena swallowed hard. Kara drew back and looked at her, really looked at her, drinking in the soft beauty of her eyes as she swept back a tear with a brush of her thumb. Lena’s eyes were huge, her lips trembling, and Kara felt an almost painful pang of sorrow and regret and a powerful stirring, long thrust down and buried and now clawing its way forth as Lena stared back, the deep sadness and loss in her own eyes tinged by a hint of forlorn hope.

“I can’t believe that I can see through walls and I’m so blind.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

“I’m calling it off. I’ll keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to do that just to please me.”

“I don’t need them. I need you. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Lena’s heart raced so fast that Kara briefly thought she might have to fly her to the hospital. Instinctively, she slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and stood, lifting Lena as if she weighed nothing.

Eyes wide, Lena bit her lip.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean when you say you’re mine? I need you to say it, Kara. I was too scared at the wedding. I can’t do this. I need you to.”

Oh.

Kara shifted her Lena’s weight in her arms, bring them closer together. She’d danced this dance before; she thought of the day she came back from the Phantom Zone, when she held Lena in her arms and felt the sun again and she almost did it, she almost just fucking did it…

And she did it.

She kissed Lena, already ready to sputter an apology and find a way out of this, but her words were lost when Lena’s soft lips met hers and Lena was ready to devour her, happily rocketing past chaste first kiss as she grabbed Kara with both hands and pulled her in.

Kara’s stomach flipped. She didn’t know what to do. She’d been kissed, she thought she’d been intimate, but she could see now that those things had been mere stimulation and nothing more. Something soared inside her as she had soared in the sky the very first time she flew. Joy unbridled swelled in her chest and she could feel Lena laughing exultantly into her mouth and even as tears mingled on her cheeks.

She wanted this. She wanted this. It was right here all along.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “I…”

“Should I put you down?”

“On the bed.”

[witchygagirlwrites]

Just Protective

Jay Halstead x Reader

When the intelligence unit has to work a case with major crimes where your ex fiance just so happens to run the unit tasked to the case Jay begins to overthink every interaction between you and your ex. He's never been a jealous man but he knows for certain your ex is always just too damn close to you.

You woke up and felt an arm around your waist holding you back against a broad chest and smiled sleepily. Trying to get up before Jay was impossible, the man slept too light and when he did sleep he held onto you like he was afraid if he didn't you would float off.

"Jay?" You called lightly, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. His eyes were still closed, long lashes kissing the freckles that were splashed across his cheeks. He was always fucking gorgeous but like this? Actually relaxed and peaceful? You'd never seen a better sight.

After a moment a smile slowly slipped onto his face "Baby, you do know staring is a little creepy" you faked hurt, pretending to try to squirm away from him "If I'm creepy then let me go" he pulled you back closer, shifting the two of you so that you were now on your back and he was holding himself up over you with one hand while the other grabbed your chin to force your eyes up to his "Never" he swore before his lips brushed gently against yours.

A light moan escaped your lips when his tongue slipped past them and he groaned against your mouth. Your hands moved up his chest then over his shoulders to trace the muscles in his upper back, nails biting in just enough to make him roll his hips down against yours. He broke away from your lips and looked down at you with a smirk "Now baby, we've talked about this. If you want something just use your words princess"

God you would've killed anyone else for calling you princess but when Jay did it made you fucking throb. You cut your eyes towards the clock and saw there was still nearly two hours before you had to be into work. You looked back up at him and felt your heart flip from having the full attention of those blue eyes on you "I want you" you whispered and his smirk only got deeper. He leaned down to let his lips trail across your neck, clearly enjoying the little shiver it made your body give "You've got me so you're gonna have to do better than that"

He bit down on the top of your right breast, just hard enough you moaned and arched your back off the bed. "What do you need sweetheart? Just tell me and it's yours" he spoke with his mouth against your flesh, teasing every inch he could gain access to. "I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me. Please" when you added the please he closed his eyes and groaned lightly "Fuck baby you know how to get me"

You followed Jay into the precinct, smiling at Trudy when she only told you good morning and Jay cleared his throat "I'm right here Sarge!"

You laughed and patted his shoulder "It's ok honey. We see you. I'm just her favorite" you winked at Trudy then headed for the stairs leading up to intelligence.

Jay grumbled behind you "You're everyone's favorite" you looked over your shoulder at him when you got to the palm scanner and grinned "But just remember you're my favorite" he stepped up to open the gate when it popped and whispered in your ear "Especially when I do that thing you were begging for?"

You felt your body react even before he left a kiss just below your ear and gently tapped your lower back "C'mon Detective. We gotta get to work" "You're horrible you know that?" You laughed and he shrugged "You must like it"

Around ten a call came in to summon the unit to the north side. A small grade explosive had gone off in a shopping complex leaving four dead, twelve injured and numerous businesses completely gone.

________________

You walked through the debris with Hailey as Matt marked out the numerous spots shrapnel had hit from the makeshift IED. Whoever it was had used a pressure cooker hooked up to a cell phone. They'd packed the pressure cooker with nails, metal and anything else they could find with some C4.

"This is just chaos" you muttered, and she nodded "We have no idea where to start" right as she spoke you saw Hank answer his phone and knew from the set of his shoulders it wasn't news he liked.

Kevin and Jay were taking witness statements while Adam and Kim had gone to the hospital, so you nudged Hailey and nodded towards Hank "What's that about?" she followed your line of sight and shook her head "I don't know but I don't like it because it doesn't look like good news"

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

Hank kept the news tight to his chest until the unit made it back to the precinct. You and Hailey were pouring over surveillance footage while Kevin and Jay compared notes with Adam and Kim. Hank walked out of his office and to the board at the front of the room “I got a call from the ivory tower, this is gonna be a joint task force”

“Who are we getting stuck with boss?” Adam asked. “Major crimes” Hank replied and you had to stop yourself from spinning around in your seat to face him. No, there were multiple units in major crimes. What were the chances? “Well when are the blowhard dickheads gonna get here?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at Hank before you heard the gate at the bottom of the stairs pop and an all too familiar voice say “Well hello to you too Y/N”

You turned around completely to see Trudy was leading the unit from Major crimes up and dead center of them was Javier Deacon. Your ex fiance. You clocked Adam and Kevin sharing a look before Kim cut her eyes at Hailey and mouthed something. “This is gonna be fun” you heard Jay mutter and looked over at him to see he was standing next to Kevin’s desk with his arms crossed, staring Javier down. Yeah you’d rather chase the bomber down solo then be stuck between those two.

Hank cleared his throat “Welcome to intelligence. Don’t get in our way and we’ll play nice” then cut his eyes at Jay “Well most of us will play nice” Trudy nodded “Have fun kids” then headed back downstairs. Javier waved a hand towards the board “Well Voight, catch us up and let's get to it”

“If he puts his hand on her fucking chair one more time..” Jay hadn’t meant for it to slip out but Kevin cutting his eyes at him told him it had. “You good man?” he asked and Jay nodded “Yeah” 

You and Hailey had clocked a partial on a car that was at the scene the correct amount of time before the bomb went off so now trying to run down the full tag number and owner was the current task. You were focused on your screen but Javier was standing over you with a hand on the back of your chair and would lean across to point at something on your screen every now and then. Every single time he had to fight the urge to break his hand.

He didn’t know where this was coming from. You’d broken things off with Javier, saying that your careers were going in different ways. Translation? Your career had started going better than his and he’d had a man fit like a little bitch. 

Maybe that was why he wanted to punch him every time he looked at you like you were still his. Did he not realize you were taken? You and Jay didn’t exactly take PDA to the extreme at work but your phone wallpaper was a photo of the two of you and if he was observant enough to be a detective he’d see how your eyes kept flicking up to Jay’s every now and then with a small smile.

“Got ya” you muttered and pointed to Hailey’s screen with a smile. “Voight!” Javier called out and you cut your eyes up at him and said something too low for Jay to make out but when the other man laughed he nearly broke the damn pen he’d been holding. 

Voight walked over to your desk “What ya got?” you pointed to your screen “Lyle Peterson. He was the main investor in one of the bigger businesses that was a full loss. I dug a little deeper and as it turns out he was golfing buddies, Mark Owens who was a co-owner of another business, and his kid went to school with the other business owner Robert Sanchez’ kid” Hank shrugged “What’s that got to do with anything?” Hailey motioned to her screen “If they made it to the end of this quarter all three businesses would’ve went bankrupt but if something happened that was covered by their insurances there would be a full payout”

“Ok, pick all three up and lets see who will roll on who first”

You walked back into intelligence pushing Mark Owens in front of you. Javier had gone with you and Hailey to pick him up. One of his crew had gone with Kevin and Jay to pick up Peterson, one had gone with Kim and Adam for Sanchez while the other had stayed back with Hank.

The plan was to purposely let them see the others were there before beginning interrogations. You walked him past where Kevin was cuffing Peterson to a table in interrogation one “Shit sweetheart he wasn’t supposed to see him” Javier told you and considering you were working you decided to let the sweetheart comment go. You shrugged “Let him know if he doesn’t tell us his side his buddies damn sure will tell us theirs”

Jay heard Javier call you sweetheart and it took everything to remember he was on the job. Why hadn’t you corrected him? You would later, wouldn’t you? He shook his head to get his mind on the task at hand. He could deal with Javier later. He trusted you. 

After a full confession of how they’d botched the timer and never meant for anyone to get hurt Adam, Kevin and one of Javier’s men walked the three down to booking while everyone else finished up the paperwork and Hank made phone calls.

You signed off your report and walked to the breakroom to refill your coffee. Jay had been sitting at his desk silently watching you but when you walked towards the breakroom and Javier followed he was on his feet and moving without thinking. A part of him wanted to storm inside but that small part kept him just outside, listening if he was needed but wanting to know exactly where he stood in your heart.

__________

You had just put your hand on the coffee pot when you heard Javier’s footsteps enter the room behind you. “What do you want Javi?” you asked without turning around. “You look good” he said so you nodded, making your coffee to your taste before turning around to face him “I know. Doesn’t answer my question”

He ran a hand across the back of his neck which you knew was a nervous habit and still knowing that pissed you off. “I miss you” “Good for you” you bit back. You told Hank you’d behave for the case but the case was officially over. He took a step towards you and you raised an eyebrow “If you like all your bodyparts where they currently are, I’d stay right there”

He had the nerve to let a smirk slip onto his face “You loved me at one time” you nodded “Loved. Past tense” he rolled his eyes “I see no ring on your finger. No photo of a man on your desk” you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh “Oh my god you are a fucking idiot!”

A look of confusion crossed his face “What do you mean?” you waved a hand around “I don’t need a photo of the man because his desk is across from mine! I’m with Jay!” “Halstead?” he asked, curling his lip in disgust and you felt your anger fire to life “I fuckin dare you to say one bad word about that man in my presence”

“You love Halstead?” he asked and you smiled “More than I ever thought of loving you” he huffed “He can have you. You’re too career hungry anyways”

__________________

Jay leaned against the wall and gave Javier an amused grin when he stormed out of the break room. When you walked out of the room next he grabbed your arm “C’mere” he pulled you behind him towards the back hallway until you were out of sight of everyone else. The moment he was sure no one else could see he gently pushed your back against a wall, gripping your hip with one hand and tilting your chin up with the other “You love me huh?”

You nodded, eyes wide “Of course I love you Jay. I just hadn’t said yet but that asshole pissed me off” he grinned “I love you too baby” he leaned closer to barely brush his lips against yours. “Oh c’mon Halstead. I know you can do better!” you teased and a gasp left you when his hands went to your thighs gripping them tightly before picking you up where you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist.

When he kissed you again it was tongue and teeth and had you whimpering into his mouth within moments. He pulled away and smiled when you chased his mouth “Better?” you nodded “Much” he laughed lightly “Good because as soon as we get home I’m spending the rest of the night showing you just how much I love you” you groaned lightly “Fuck Voight and his paperwork. It can wait, let’s sneak out the back” he shook his head “You’re so bad” you pulled him back for another kiss before saying “And yet you love me”

[cartoonartistpng]

Mephiles the Mind, Iblis the Heart

Basically a breakdown of how I interpreted 06 but also a foundation I use for all my AUs.

Mephiles is highly intelligent and apathetic while Iblis relies on emotion and is more like a wild animal. Mephiles does not have full access to Solaris' time powers, but Iblis does. However, Iblis does not have the mental capacity to actually use them.

Things that are less “interpretive” and more “theory”:

This is why Iblis needed a powerful emotion to be released

In the original timeline, the one which led to Silver’s future, it was Elise’s death which released Iblis. Because the seal was broken improperly, Mephiles could not recombine with Iblis. Therefore, he would need to look for a different way, but he can’t with Sonic being there and being an obstacle (not while Mephiles is still weak). Hence why he brought in Silver—a powerful hedgehog determined to save his future no matter the cost—who is also a completely new factor to change the timeline. Silver would keep Sonic busy while Mephiles figured out how to properly release Iblis… Since letting her die didn’t work last time. When Silver began figuring out the charade, Mephiles didn’t care enough to try hard with his manipulations, especially if it meant Silver would help keep Elise alive. However, once Mephiles realized the way to release Iblis was via an extreme emotion from Elise well… how convenient that the Princess grew attached to a certain blue hedgehog. Turns out killing Sonic really was the key all along. And if you want something done right… you gotta do it yourself.

Essentially (to explain Mephiles’ weird planning in canon), Mephiles did not know the seal was reliant on Elise’s emotions in the beginning, so he sends Silver to distract Sonic while he figures out how to actually free his other half. How ironic that killing Sonic is indeed what needs to happen. Mephiles basically has a “wait, it’s actually that simple?” moment

The strong emotion can be anything—grief, anger, joy, fear—it just has to be strong. Like a “consuming your mind” kind of strong.

The original explosion which killed Elise was too sudden for any strong emotion to pop up. (Even in her last moments, she had faith Sonic would save her.)

Mephiles is the mind while Iblis is the heart. Only once combined does Mephiles—or Solaris now—actually feel feelings. However, Solaris is still adjusting after the disoriented episode of being literally split in two and so acts completely on his anger toward mortals for taking advantage of him.

At the end of 06, Solaris isn’t destroyed but rather is scattered/subdued, and everyone will already be long gone by the time Solaris’ pieces are reunited. Like “after Dark Gaia and Light Gaia have restarted the planet” kind of long time. They are gods after all. Time is different for them.

The rest of this is sparked from my “Trinity Gods” fanon. Aka, Gaia, the Master Emerald, and Solaris are the three gods who created Earth, as well as any planets prior to Earth. The Master Emerald is also called “Mother Chaos”.

While Gaia slumbers, Mother Chaos and Solaris watch over the planet to protect it. During Earth’s creation, Mother Chaos took on a physical form (ie. The Master Emerald) to live on Earth amongst its creatures. Curious about all Mother Chaos learned whilst living amongst mortals, Solaris decided to also take on a physical form and live amongst them. However, this meant limiting his ability to see the future—or rather which future would come true. Thus, Solaris did not see what the humans planned on doing with him until it was too late.

Gaia and Mother Chaos are A-Okay with Solaris destroying the planet. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time one of them has, after all. It’d be a bummer for it to end so soon, but they can just make another one. It’s because of this that they don’t interfere with Solaris’ plot… as well as the fact that their creations had hurt their friend.

It’s also this familiarity that means the Chaos Emeralds will so easily obey Mephiles. Doesn’t matter who posses them or if they’re on the other side of the planet, if the gods call, they answer.

[anna-the-undertaker]

The living room of the House of Lamentation was unusually quiet, which was never a good sign. MC stood in the center, their expression twisted in frustration as they paced back and forth like a caged animal. The brothers watched from a safe distance, sensing the impending explosion. This wasn’t the usual kind of annoyance, like when Levi hogged the Wi-Fi or Mammon tried to steal their snacks—no, this was something else entirely.

MC suddenly stopped pacing and threw their hands in the air, letting out a dramatic groan that echoed through the room. “You know what? I’ve figured it out! I know what God really wants, dammit!”

The brothers blinked in unison, caught off guard. Satan arched an eyebrow, while Mammon looked around nervously, as if expecting lightning to strike at any moment. Asmo, always the drama enthusiast, leaned in slightly, eager to hear what was coming next.

MC’s voice grew louder, filled with exasperation. “He wants me to kill my motherfucking self!”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Beelzebub paused mid-chew on a sandwich, while Leviathan’s game controller slipped from his hands. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, waiting to see where this outburst was headed.

“But the joke’s on him!” MC continued, their voice rising to a near-shout as they jabbed a finger toward the ceiling, as if personally challenging the heavens. “I ain’t gone give that motherfucker the satisfaction!”

A beat, and then…

“Wait, what?” Mammon blurted out, his confusion clear as day. “Did ya just—what? MC, what the hell are ya talkin’ about?”

MC threw their hands up in mock exasperation. “You heard me! If there’s some grand cosmic plan to mess with my life, well, guess what? I’m not playing along! God can take that idea and shove it right up his ass!”

Belphegor, who had been dozing on the couch, cracked one eye open and mumbled, “Pretty sure if anyone’s getting a rise out of this, it’s you.”

MC shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of getting kicked around by fate, or destiny, or whatever cosmic nonsense is at work here. I mean, what’s next? A divine memo telling me I need to take up knitting to ‘fulfill my true purpose’?”

Leviathan finally recovered from his shock, picking up his controller again. “If God’s out here trying to troll you, then maybe you should just… uninstall?” he suggested weakly, half-joking.

MC’s laugh was more of a snort. “Right! And where’s the ‘leave game’ button, huh? You see it anywhere? Because I sure don’t!”

Asmodeus sidled closer, a playful smile on his lips. “Darling, if the universe really is conspiring against you, it’s doing a pretty terrible job. I mean, look at you—you’re still here, still fabulous, and still driving us all crazy in the best possible way.”

MC couldn’t help but grin at that. “Damn right. I’m not going anywhere. God’s got another thing coming if He thinks I’m checking out early.”

Lucifer, who had been silently observing the entire exchange, finally spoke, his tone dry. “While I appreciate your… spirited determination, perhaps it’s best not to challenge divine entities so casually.”

MC crossed their arms, smirking. “Let them try me, Luci. I’ve got an army of demons, an endless supply of sarcasm, and enough stubbornness to outlast eternity.”

Beel shrugged and resumed eating. “I’m just glad you’re not planning on going anywhere. We’d miss your cooking too much.”

There was a collective groan from the others, but it was clear that the tension had broken. MC’s outburst, as wild and over-the-top as it was, had become just another bizarre moment in their chaotic life with the brothers. And honestly? That was just fine with them.

With a final huff, MC plopped down on the couch beside Belphie, grabbing a pillow to squeeze. “You know what? Forget divine drama. I’m just gonna focus on what’s important—like how to get Mammon to finally pay back that money he owes me.”

“Hey, what the hell!” Mammon yelped, his face turning red. “I said I’m good for it!”

MC’s laughter echoed through the house, and the brothers joined in, the earlier tension now nothing but a distant memory. After all, when you’re living in the Devildom, sometimes the only way to deal with cosmic absurdity is with a good sense of humor—and a lot of sass.

[rosquinn]

Thoughts on the dr stone petrification scars

Big disclaimer,

This is just my personal thoughts and stuff I put together n noticed, a subjective interpretation, don't take it seriously Im probably wrong

Some of these are very elaborate while others are just me pointing out details I liked. Sorry. I'll start with the longer rants

This post contains characters (currently) exclusive to the manga and main plot spoilers. Maybe I'm looking to much into it but I swear to motherfucking God there's scar symbolism. anyway

Senku and Taiju

Something that always stood out to me is how similar their scars are both in shape and position, except that Taiju's is cut on the right eye and the points are on opposite sides. Now listen to me... Senku and him are opposites; one's big brained but physically a twig and the other one is the strongest most resistant man you'll ever meet but doesn't really understand anything about science. That's why opposite scars and why they need each other to go on... But their marks are in the same direction because they have the same goal and interests + deep down they're both extremely caring people who would do anything for those around them, despite how different and contrasting their personalities are at first glance.

Oh and Senku's marks are completely symmetrical and do NOT go away. Idk logic perseverance etc + Taijus are more coarse and asymmetrical. To contrast their way of thinking I think. They could be similar because they were the first ones to wake up from the petrification too but you know

Francois & the Nanami brothers

Francois' scar looks like explosion or sound waves. (Manga) Ryusui snaps his fingers to call them creating a similar shape, which is really cool I'll admit. Their scar is on their hand, just like Ryusui's.

So, both Ryusui and Sai also have scars on their hands, except Ryusui's may resemble a glove so pirate-like if we don't count the color + it's on the hand he snaps his fingers with. Mark resembling a rich man or a pirate's glove on the same hand he uses to call his butler and ask for service, and it only covers his fingers. Could be something like a symbol of power/status.

On the other hand, Sai's scars completely cover the lower part of his arms and hands, which are what he uses to code. Sai ran away in order to be able to schedule quietly and is completely locked in his work. Tell me you get it please

Yoo

I'm getting into crack theory with this but please do bear with me. His scar makes him look like Alex, the protagonist of A Clockwork Orange. A Clockwork Orange deals a lot with the theme of unscrupulous rebellion, hurting someone because you think you have complete freedom, and police brutality, which are big parts of Yoo's character. As far as I remember the eyelash marks are left on the MC after being forced to watch 484737 movies showing super brute crimes so he understands what he is doing is wrong and redeems himself. Yoo covers his face a lot to hide the mark and only removes the piece of stone that covers it at the end of the manga when he is 100% team Senku.

IN ADDITION, something important in A Clockwork Orange are the vulgar idioms and slang that teenagers invent and are completely unknown to the viewer and curiously the name and surname of Yoo are formed by informal interjections in Japanese. I've only read the book tho, never watched the movie so if I got anything about the eye marks wrong mb

Tsukasa and Stanley

I really like how similar their scars are, considering both were absurdly overpowered antagonists that had to be defeated using much more advanced science + both kill Senku at one point + their eyes are similar to some extent. I love parallels

Dr Xeno

Scar becomes? White? Splits into pieces? After he's revived a second time and decides to help Senku. Something about his ideals splitting/changing maybe. And being no longer evil thus willing to kill teenagers

Gen

Gen's scar seems to resemble a mouth that changes shape depending on whatever emotion he's feeling (or pretending to feel). I don't have anything else to say genuinely peak character design, specially taking into account that facades are a huge part of his arc and relationships with other characters (let's remember that he's the one to suggest everyone paints their scar again in solidarity with Senku. Hm).

Yuzuriha and Mirai

Yuzu's resemble the roots and vines that protected her body while she was petrified, while Mirai's make her look like a baby chicken breaking out of its shell. I think they're both cute details considering their characters:)

Homura

Considering she's a gymnast who uses her legs a lot to move, I find cool that it's on her thigh. It makes her legs look like they're cracking

Hyoga

Very circular and repetitive, something related to his weapon maybe. I find interesting that he covers them. Insert cursed speech jujutsu kaisen joke

Addition: Ukyo has no visible mark which is also cool on its own way, given that one of his abilities is easily perceiving sounds other people don't notice at all

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hey!!! You commented on my post about limetown haha which is why I’m here. You offered to give podcast recs! What are your favorites?? I’m looking for some new ones

I completely forgot I had this ask, excuse the delay. Here's a selection of 30 podcasts I enjoyed from a broad range of genres: hopefully at least one appeals.

Let me know if you're after something more specific.

Arden: (Investigative, Comedy) On the 25th of December, 2007, heiress and young actress Julie Capsom crashed her car into a tree and fled into a nearby forest clearing, leaving a trail that seemingly vanished into thin air, and a dismembered torso in the trunk. A decade later, Bea, the first reporter on the scene, and Brenda, a detective on the case, are hosting a true crime podcast about it, and neither is remotely impressed with what the other has to say. Arden is also a retelling of various Shakespeare plays.

Desperado: (Supernatural, Adventure, Horror Elements) In a modern world of gods and magic, three young people, all under the patronage of death dieties, embark on the same adventure for different reasons: for safety, for revenge, and to kill The Old Man in the Sky. Fantastic banter and killer action sequences.

The Far Meridian: (Magical Realism) An agoraphobic young woman wakes one day to discover her lighthouse home has travelled to somewhere entirely unfamilar. As this continues to happen day after day, she uses the opportunity to search for her missing brother. A really unique and charming piece of fiction.

Gastronaut: (Sci-Fi) Interstellar travel audio blog of a former food critic as he travels to an active warzone to get firsthand experience with unfamilar cuisine. ft. Disgruntled martian nobility, sinister businessmen, explosive mushrooms, forbidden snacks, rogue revolutionary artists, and the consequences of your actions.

Girl in Space: (Sci-Fi) The Girl In Space lives alone on a space station, doing science, making cheese, rewatching Jurassic Park, and tending to the plants, animals, and artificial sun entrusted to her. It's a little lonely, but not a bad life. Would be a shame if someone came along to ruin it.

The Goblet Wire: (Microfiction, Weird Fiction) A surreal microfiction with horror elements, taking the form of phone calls to an audio-based game in which the voice of the mysterious Dictator leads each player through fantastic and horrific world and story.

Hello From The Hallowoods: (Horror, Supernatural) A dramatic entity beyond your comprehension visits your nightmares to tell stories of the people (in varying degrees of human and alive) that inhabit the strange, deadly, and beautiful Hallowoods, as they find meaning and sometimes eachother.

Hi Nay: (Supernatural Horror) A year after moving to Toronto, sound designer Mari finds herself drawn into helping people around the city with various horrific supernatural encounters due to her babaylan (shaman) family background. It quickly becomes apparent that there's something much more sinister and complicated happening in the background.

Inco: (Microfiction, Sci-Fi) A perpetually exausted interstellar information trader and her peppy AI find a mysterious (read: bratty) boy floating in space and are inadventently pulled into a world political intrigue.

Inn Between: (Fantasy) Ever curious about what the D&D characters get up to at the tavern between sessions? A generally lighter-hearted (with some exceptions) with richly-written and always-growing characters. A really interesting format, too: a lot of the adventure appears in the "next time" and "last time" segments which makes it all flow really nicely. Not a tabletop podcast.

Janus Descending: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Tragedy) A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to a study a dead city on a distant world. Nobody likes what they find there. A unique format, with one set of logs presented first to last, and the other last to first. I'd recommend listening to the supercut for this one.

The Kingmaker Histories: (Steampunk, Weird Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy Elements) In the Valorian Socialist Republic 1911, on her 25th birthday, tailor's apprentice Colette experienced the worst headache of her life. As a result, she fleed from town with a human artificer and a fae chef - both now smugglers - pursued by an utterly furious flesh-crafter. I'm not sure I'm selling how good this podcast is but it's very good.

Life With Althaar: (Sci-Fi, Comedy) A human repairman moves to a space station on the edge of human territory that is perpetually on the edge of self-destruction, and ends up with a less-than-ideal last-minute roomate. Althaar is polite, friendly, deeply interested in human culture, and eager to be friends. Unfortunately he belongs to a species that sends humans into a visceral panic at a glance.

Lost Terminal: (Sci-Fi, Hopepunk) Seth is a very lonely AI living on a satellite. His crew were left stranded aboard with no hope of return, and it's been longer than he can count since then. The Earth below him has changed dramatically, and with only a few other AI down there to talk to, he's very lonely. But! He has a plan to make some new friends.

Love and Luck: (Romance, Slice-of-Life and Urban Fantasy Elements) Voice messages cataloguing two young men falling in love and opening a queer dry bar together.

Midnight Radio: (Light Supernatural, Romance) Sybil McIntyre, host of the ever-popular 1950's nightly radio hour, begins exchanging letters with an old fan who has reluctantly returned to visit Sybil's beloved town.

Midst: (Weird Fiction, Western, Sci-Fi and Fantasy Elements) The old-western planetoid islet of Midst floats, rotating steadily, in a sea of reality-warping darkness. Down in the town of Stationary Hill, things are in movement, and vistors from the light above are about to bring unanticipated change. ft a monocycle-riding monster-hunter, radio-famous airship paladins, deadly mica, the universe's peppiest cultist, good dogs, and a really strange businessman.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Urban Fantasy and Horror Elements) A friendly AI tour guide leads you on a tour of the Mistholme Museum, explaining the strange and often alternatural story behind each item.

Monstrous Agonies: (Supernatural, Relationship Advice) An interpersonal advice show for supernatural entities and other people living liminally in the modern world.

Night Shift: (Urban Fantasy, Investigative) Set in a modern world with the addition of magic, which manifests in small inherited skills/traits, can warp people in horrific ways, or can be manipulated with the right science (and intense work) to induce superpowers. Sebastian Fenn is a barista at Night Shift Coffee, but since things are slow he's decided to start a podcast to talk about various mysteries, crimes and conspiracies around the city, and of course finds himself deeper in them than he'd intended.

The Pasithea Powder: (Sci-Fi, Thriller Elements? I think?) The last major interplanetary war was full of atrocities, but none more infamous then the creation of Pasithea Powder, a memory altering drug which was used to horrible effect and landed it's entire team of creators in prison. So when decorated war hero Captain Sophie Green sees one of them wandering free, worlds away from his prison, she gets in touch with a very old, estranged friend: one Dr. Jane Gonzalez, who's behind bars for the very same reason.

SCP: Find Us Alive: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Horror and Slice-of-Life elements) You don't need to know anything about SCP to enjoy this. A research team gets trapped in an underground research facility when the complex collapses and the building is dragged into a pocket dimension. The tear it was designed to study begins creating tiny copies of itself, generating strange entities the team needs to deal with. And as if that wasn't enough, the entire situation physically resets itself every 30 days. And yet, this is genuinely also an office comedy.

Second Star to the Left: (Sci-Fi) Audio logs of a scout sent to explore and establish early infastructure new world, and the communications with the minder in charge of keeping her alive.

Seen and Not Heard: (Slice-of-Life, Drama) Seen and Not Heard follows Bet, who's still adjusting to life a year after a bout of severe illness, and the resulting hearing loss it caused. It's about the ways we make connection, and food, and art, and different kinds of grief.

The Silt Verses: (Horror) In a modern world where gods are abundant, frequently both commercialised and restricted, two devotees of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.

SINKHOLE: (Sci-Fi, Weird Fiction) Forum posts from a data restoration community in a near future where the human brain is its own computer and one city hosts a massive void.

Starfall: (Fantasy) Seeking to escape her mysterious past and find some purpose, a young swordswoman joins a travelling actor's troupe. This new life is unfamilar and sometimes stressful, but she's taken under the wing of stagehand Fel, who's determined to help her feel welcome as she experiences the figurative and literal magic of the theatre for the first time.

The Tower: (Weird Fiction) A low-key, meditative podcasy about a young woman who decides to climb a seemingly endless tower. Gorgeous sound design.

The Vesta Clinic: (Sci-Fi) New GP Dr. Fae Underwood, with the expert transcription skills of resident AI Sec, writes up patient reports on human and alien patients of The Vesta Clinic, a medical clinic on the edge of human space. Really comfy and creative.

Victoriocity: (Steampunk, Mystery) Set in the steam-powered Victorian city of Even Greater London, an aspiring journalist and a tired detective find themselves working together to solve a strange murder. I say Victorian but as queen Victoria is now an extensive grandiocity of cyborg components following seven only-kind-of-successful assassinations, you may need to adjust expectations a little.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi dear can I request Ghost x Reader where Ghost is absolutely down for her and they are secretly in love with each other and are close to confessing, but on a mission y/n and another soldier are commanded to clear the buildings while the others stay put, but it’s a trap and they blow the building up and it collapses trapping reader from the ribs down, no one can get in and no one out and she knows it’s the end for her and ghost looses his shit. Thank you in advance ❤️

Thank you for this!!! The angsttttt I'm here for it😭😭 hopefully I did what you were looking for justice🙃❤️

You Can't Leave Me

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, crying, injury, swearing

The 141 was tasked with clearing out two buildings near Al Mazra to try and find their HVT. One of the members of AQ had taken the reigns since the death of Hassan, and you and the team needed to find him and take him out.

The boys were to secure building A, the larger building, while you and a stand-in member cleared building B, the smaller one.

Everything seemed to have gone according to plan, the team had found the HVT and took him out, and was able to gather some valuable intel along the way. Price, Gaz, Johnny and Ghost were all heading toward the exfil point, waiting for you and your partner to meet them. The team had gotten word that an influx of AQ soldiers were on their way to your location, so you were trying to get out as fast as you could.

The four of them had made it to the exfil point, when a loud explosion sounded from behind them.

"The hell was that?" Soap asked, whipping his head to the source.

"Oh my God, that's Y/N's building." Gaz said, a solemn expression taking over his face. "Was it..was it a trap?"

"No, no, no." Ghost turned on his comms. "Y/N, come in."

No response came from you, and Simon was starting to panic. This could not be happening. Not to you. "Y/N, are you there?"

Silence filled the other end of the comm, and Ghost felt his breathing quicken. The two of you were unbelievably close. Ever since you'd started in the 141, he'd taken you under his wing. As time progressed, the two of you developed a bond like no other. Simon let you in, in ways he'd never let anyone in before. You were his best friend, and he was yours. Both of you harbored deep, unspoken feelings for one another, feelings that were known to everyone else but the two of you.

"Y/N, ANSWER ME!" Ghost practically screamed into his comms. He broke out in a cold sweat, and his throat was starting to run dry.

"S-Simon. I'm here." You croaked out. The building had collapsed on you and your partner. Your partner was killed instantly by the blast, while a piece of concrete had landed in just the right angle for you to be trapped from the waist down.

"Where are you? I'll come get you. Tell me where you are."

"Simon, you can't get in here, and there's no way for me to get out. I'm trapped. It's..it's okay." You tried pulling yourself up again, to no avail. You were trapped with no way out. "It's okay."

"No its not fucking okay, Y/N tell me where you are, NOW." Simon started to make his way toward the rubble, only to be pushed back by Price.

"Simon, we can't. There's no way we can get to her. The AQ fighters will be here any minute in full force. I'm sorry. I wish there was something we could do. If it were possible, you know I would do what I could. " Price put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sorrowful look. Price was devastated himself. He pictured you as a daughter, but now was not the time to mourn. He had to get his team to safety.

"The fuck we can't! There's 4 of us, we can move the rubble, she just needs to tell us where she is!" Ghost shoved Price's arm off him. "I won't take that as an answer, John. We can not just leave her to die!"

In all the years of them working together, Simon had never talked back to Price, not once. Price knew better than to say anything, though. He knew this was tearing his lieutenant apart.

"Y/N, please. Please tell me where you are. I can't lose you. I'm begging you." Simon cried into the comms.

"I'm so sorry, Simon." You choked out a sob, not sure what to say to him. You didn't want to leave him. You didn't want to die. You could feel yourself growing weaker, as you started to inhale more and more dust from the debris. You wanted nothing more than for Simon to come and save you, but that was selfish. You couldn't bear the thought of him getting killed trying to save you. But God, what you wouldn't give to be in his arms, just one last time. "I am so thankful I had you in my life. I don't regret a second of it."

"Not like this, please. Sweetheart, there was so much I wanted to tell you." Simon pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."

"Tell me now, Si. I'm here."

Simon hesitated before speaking. Part of him didn't want you to tell you right now. He wanted to hold on to hope that you'd make it out of this, that he could tell you in person. But that small part of him that knew this was likely the last time he'd ever get to tell you this, pushed him to tell you how he felt, finally.

"I was going to tell you that I love you, dammit. You're the best fucking part of my day, and that smile of yours, that goddamned smile is the only thing that keeps me going. I was going to ask you on a date when we got back. God, I want to make you mine so bad, YN." Simon's tears were flowing down his face as he struggled to get the words out. "You're my everything, kid."

Price and the others had turned their comms off and kept some distance from Simon to respect his and yours privacy. Johnny looked to his close friend, and his heart broke into a million pieces. He was watching Simon's whole being shatter before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do to help him. There was nothing he could do to save you, either. He'd never felt so helpless.

"Oh, Simon." You sobbed. "I love you too. I always have. I wish we'd had more time. I would have loved if you had been yours. I would've shown you the love you so deserve."

"So then tell me where you are, baby girl, please. We can have that. I can give you that. I can be whatever you want me to be, just let me come get you."

"Please, Si. There's no use. They will be here any minute. I won't let you risk your life for nothing."

"You're not NOTHING, Y/N." Simon shouted, his voice breaking. "I have to save you. I couldn't save them, but I can save you, please let me."

"I love you so much Simon Riley. I- I..." Your voice faded on the comms as your end of the line started to crackle.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Simon was screaming your name, to no avail. "No, no, no. No, this isn't happening. This isn't real."

He threw his gun to the ground, and started to charge at the collapsed building before Price and Johnny pulled him back.

"Simon, Simon, we can't. I'm so sorry." Price said as he stepped in front of the lieutenant.

"No, I can't leave her. I can't leave her!" He sobbed, pushing price away from him with the full force of his body.

Gaz and Johnny went to tackle Simon before he could get any further, and brought the masked man to his knees.

"Simon, we've got to go. I'm so sorry, mate." Johnny tried to meet his friend's eyes, but Simon was beyond hysterical.

"God DAMMIT, Y/N! I'm sorry, I failed you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Simon threw his head into his hands and sobbed, not caring who saw him. This couldn't be the end for you. He was finally ready to open himself up to you, finally ready to be with you. It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on him. It couldn't end like this….could it?

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

[lazycats-stuff]

How about a one of the one where the family didn't know about male reader past and found scars. Let's see the justice league/titans/young justice reactions to readers past

R.I.P Deathstroke cause the moment anyone sees him there all about to jump on him🤣

Yup, RIP Deathstroke. Batman will kill him. Also, I think I wrote in a new style... No dialog at all.

Summary: (Y/N) used to be a weapon for Deathstroke. The batfamily didn't know.

Warnings: protective everyone, (Y/N) trained as a weapon, Deathstroke is awful, The family is read to kill everyone.

(Y/N) pulled his sleeves down. He couldn't let anybody see those scars. And nobody can't know about them. Once they do, they will kick him out and he will be back on his own again. He couldn't be back alone on his own.

Sometimes he got nightmares about his past. The things he had to do were absolutely horrible and it would make Batman wince and shudder. Some of the habits were outright impossible to shake off.

Sometimes he would skip meals when the mission has failed. Or he would overwork himself when he could hear Deathstroke in his head. He wanted to get the bastard out of his head, but he couldn't. No matter what he tried he couldn't.

He opened his window and stepped out on the roof. It was dark and cold, middle of winter here in Gotham City. He took his pack of cigarettes out and his lighter.

God knows he needed it today. Deathstroke's voice today was a bastard today. No matter what he did today, he heard Deathstroke. Judging him... Putting him down for everything he did.

He took a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He lit it, guarding the cigarette with his hand. He removed the hand when it was lit. He took a very long drag.

After a few moments, he let the smoke out. He never had actually smoked when you let the smoke to your lungs, instead he kept the smoke in his mouth.

He looked down, closing his eyes. He still remembers how he came to Gotham. He fought tooth and nail to run. He went through hell and back to get to America itself.

Somehow he made his way to Gotham city. He knew that he would blend in there, with the amount of people on the streets, especially kids. It wasn't a good thing, but hey, if it helped him, then sure.

None the less, he tried to atone on the streets. He helped out people whenever he could, especially with the main criminals in Gotham. Whenever he could mess their plans, he would did it.

But there was one thing that he has vowed to never do again. He has vowed to never kill again. He will never take a life ever again. He messed with Black Mask more times than he can remember, but his favorite person to mess is Riddler.

That man needed to knocked down a few pegs. Well, not a few, a lot of more. And he loved every minute of it.

The only problem here was Batman. He knows when someone else gets involved with his criminals and (Y/N) knew he had to watch out for Batman. Seeing the four Robins, Batman had an adoption problem.

Well, it had more to do with adopting probably troubled kids and turning them into the vigilantes. He didn't need that. Especially with Deathstroke looking for him. That wouldn't be a good idea.

But did that stop Batman from trying to capture (Y/N). Oh no. Batman and (Y/N) saw one another by pure accident. (Y/N) was looking for the explosives that he heard Penguin had.

And Batman has heard it too. That's when the two saw one another. He was accompanied with Robin and it seemed that they were looking for him too. (Y/N) wasted no time as he ran away. Robin went after him and that's something that nobody would want to see.

Robin is the closest thing to Batman with his effectiveness and plans. And that was something thar was scary to think about. (Y/N) ran like never in his life. He had no intentions of fighting the little demon.

He managed to escape that night, but Batman wouldn't give up. He was eventually taken and then introduced into the family. It took a while for him to relax, to start trusting his now brothers and a new dad, not to mention a grandfather.

He made sure that absolutely no one saw his scars. He made sure that nobody knew anything about his past too. After some time, he felt more relaxed and he could finally feel free. He was very close with his brothers now and his father too.

Alfred was his favorite though. Not that he had favorites, but Alfred was just so sassy.

Bruce was more than happy to see him relaxed and happy so he introduced him to the Justice League. The meeting went well and (Y/N) got uncles and an aunt, who adored him dearly. Bruce didn't even want to think what would they do if (Y/N) got hurt by anyone. They didn't know how brutal his past was and (Y/N) would have liked it to stay that way.

One day the mission went tits up to put it bluntly. (Y/N) got seriously hurt trying to get intel and he was rushed to the hospital wing. He started working as a (V/N) after a year after being at Bruce's. He was rushed to the hospital wing where the doctors got to work.

Bruce was impatient, waiting for the news. (Y/N) had to pull through. Right? Everyone was quiet as they waited for the news. Was the intel really worth it? Where did that mission before anything else?

Bruce rubbed his eyes. For the first time since the mission started, he wanted to rip this cowl off. These times, when he wanted to rip his cowl off, were very rare.

After hours of waiting, Bruce was finally allowed to see his son. He was shocked by the mere scars covering him. A part of his chest was exposed and there were clearly scars thar looked old.

Worse of all, it all looked deliberate. Bruce paled and the rest were no different. Bruce thought that his knees that were going to buckle and he would fall down.

What has he been through? After (Y/N) woke up, Bruce asked him about it and that's when (Y/N) broke down, telling them all everything. The brutal training, the punishments and everything that happens if he fails a mission.

Bruce saw red when he heard that it was Deathstroke. He wanted to go after him, but his son needs him more now. He embraced his son tightly, letting him let out the things that he has buried. (Y/N) cried for a while.

Bruce just held him tightly, making a promise to himself to get Deathstroke. The Justice League listened and they all promised to get Deathstroke. He won't be dead, but he will be recovering for years after they get him.

Damian and Dick invited (Y/N) to the Teen Titans. (Y/N) didn't have anything else to do that day and he has decided to go. Bruce didn't tell anything to his brothers per (Y/N)'s request. Bruce wanted to, but he wanted to respect (Y/N)'s wishes.

Damian and Dick noticed that something has changed in (Y/N)'s demeanor and something has shifted in Bruce's and (Y/N)'s relationship, but they couldn't pinpoint what has changed.

But (Y/N) seemed a bit more comfortable and that was all that it mattered to all of them. Dick has already introduced (Y/N) to the Teen Titans and everyone liked him a lot. He got along with everyone and it seemed natural to him.

Dick was happy that his brother got along with his team. It was nice to see that he was socializing with kids his age. Kori absolutely adored him, often calling him baby bird and just hugging him whenever she could.

(Y/N) didn't mind her hugs. They were warm and always tight. And they were always comforting. (Y/N) went to Dick's room, tired from the patrol from last night. He also wanted to take a shower, considering that it was hot and he was wearing a long sleeved T-shirt. Dick provided him with clothes when he was in the shower so that meant that he would have to step out of the bathroom to get it, scars exposed.

In theory, it should be fine, right?

It would be if Dick didn't walk in just as (Y/N) stepped out. Dick stopped dead in his tracks. Damian also walked in, looking for (Y/N). The trio looked at one another in shock. (Y/N) took a step back and that snapped Dick from his shock.

After dressing into the clothes that were brought to him in the bathroom. He thought about escaping, but he knew that he couldn't. He stepped out where Damian and Dick were waiting. (Y/N) told them both what has happened.

To say Dick and Damian were enraged was an understatement of the year. Damian was already hatching a plan to get revenge and Kori, probably sensing the tension in the room.

(Y/N) told her, hanging his head down. He knew what Deathstroke has done to the Teen Titans. Kori stayed quiet for a moment before hugging (Y/N) tightly. (Y/N) teared up a little and slowly the team piled into the room.

(Y/N) explained everything to them and he got hugs and reassuring words. And something that he didn't know, they all swore revenge.

The last people to find out about (Y/N)'s past are Jason and his Outlaws. Jason, instead of finding out on his own, was called by Bruce to let him know. (Y/N) didn't want to be alone at the manor and since nobody was going to be there, Jason offered to watch (Y/N).

(Y/N) allowed Bruce to tell Jason since he didn't have any type of strength left to let him know. Jason got to working. Blankets, snacks, comfort foods too and movies and TV shows.

Artemis, Red Arrow and Bizzarro could only watch in silence as Jason did everything. They heard (Y/N) was coming, but why did Jason need to do this?

When they tried to ask him, he would brush them off. Now they were all a little bit worried now. They have met (Y/N) prior to this and they liked the kid.

What has happened?

Jason stopped for a moment and everyone watched as (Y/N) entered. Jason immediately hugged his brother, leading him to the couch, still holding his brother tightly. He wrapped his brother in a blanket, moving the snacks closer.

Everyone was very curious and sat around the two brothers. (Y/N) just put his face into Jason's chest and Jason didn't mind it. After getting permission to tell everyone, Jason explained everything to his team.

Well, Deathstroke wasn't going to live very long if the Outlaws get their hands on the bastard. But for now, they will help (Y/N) in any way they can.

The promise of revenge came true a couple of months later. (Y/N) wasn't on this mission, but the Batfamily was. They didn't expect to find Deathstroke, but it was perfect.

The family thought like never before, with so much rage and anger clouding their minds, so much red in their visions that it looked liked they were possessed.

After beating Deathstroke to a pulp, they were happy. They made every punch and kick worth it.

Bruce took a deep breath, to finally calm himself. He fulfilled the promise to his son and now he could finally let go of that anger. The others felt amazing too. They have fulfilled their promises and (Y/N) could feel better.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 23 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - the last part of this chapter is mostly taken from the first chapter with some additions. We’ve come full circle now! Things speed up a little now. Summary - Luke and the rest of the BAU make strides in their investigation. Meanwhile, Spencer’s paranoia reaches fever pitch and he makes a decision for your future which could lead to your inevitable capture.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - paranoid Spencer, mentions of past child abuse, pregnancy, Spencer giving up, swearing, guns, explosions.

WC - 5.3k

Chapter 23 - Catch Me if You Can

It was two weeks after arriving home from New York that things started to fall into place. 

Luke had convinced Emily to sign off on the request for extra security footage from Caesars Palace which had enabled him to track Spencer leaving the hotel room and into the parking garage which gave him a car licence plate of a Chevy Impala for which they’d had an APB out on ever since.

Luke had also discovered, through trawling police databases, two more bodies with similar MO’s to Green, Smith and Carlisle. Again it didn’t mean they were connected but it was certainly a pattern. Mary Dalton’s body had still not been found. 

But the strangest part had happened this morning when Luke walked into the round table room to find the rest of the team already there, a photograph of a middle aged man on the big screen and case files littering the table. 

JJ, Garcia, Emily and Rossi exchanged looks and seemed to be communicating between themselves without the use of words while Matt, Tara and now Luke himself looked on like the outsiders. 

“Uh, what’s going on?” Luke sidled up to a free chair but didn’t sit down, instead he gripped the back of it while his eyes flicked between the four veteran agents. 

“This man went missing two weeks ago. He left work on a Friday and was never seen again.” Emily pointed at the screen, her tone was a combination of frustration and dread. 

“Until this morning.” Rossi added. “Some campers stumbled upon his body in the Mojave National Preserve in California.” 

“He was stabbed forty three times.” JJ added, her brows pinched together. 

“Do we have other bodies matching the MO? Surely we haven’t been called in for a single homicide?” Luke frowned, still looking between the four of them. 

“We haven’t been called in at all.” Emily spoke again. 

“Ok, someone needs to fill us in because there is clearly something you guys aren’t saying.” Tara vocalised before Luke had a chance. 

Again the four of them exchanged looks, clearly trying to discern who would be the one to speak. Luke’s grip on the chair tightened, he knew whatever they said wasn’t going to be good. 

“It’s less about the what and more about the who.” Rossi ran his hand over his greying facial hair. 

Luke, Tara and Matt remained silent. 

“This,” Emily pointed at the screen again. “This is William Reid.” 

Luke’s eyes bulged a little, focusing on the photograph of the older man. There was something familiar about him, something in the eyes that Luke recognised distantly. And now he knew why. 

“William Reid.” He croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. “As in…?”

“Spencer’s father.” Emily nodded. 

“You think Reid killed his own dad?” Matt shook his head. “No, I don’t buy that.” 

“William went missing the weekend Spencer and Y/N were in Nevada.” Garcia rolled her lip between her teeth. 

“That has to be a coincidence. Why would he kill his father?” Tara sounded just as disbelieving as Matt. 

Luke stayed silent, unable to form any words that would be helpful in this situation. JJ let out a shaky breath, stepping slightly closer to the table. Her eyes were downturned, she looked to be fighting some kind of internal battle. 

“God I’d hoped I’d never have to repeat this.” She sniffed. “Years ago he confided in me. His father…he, uh, he sexually abused Spence. Probably other kids too. He told me once while he was high and I’m not even sure he remembers telling me. But I never forgot.”  

Luke, Tara and Matt turned to her with wide eyes and slack jaws. Judging by the lack of surprise on the faces of the other agents, she’d already imparted this piece of information on them. 

“Seriously?” Matt’s eyebrows were knitted deeply together. 

“Yeah, I wish it wasn’t true, trust me.” JJ swallowed, pouting her bottom lip. 

“Does this get us any closer to finding them?” Luke tried to stay on track and not get dragged into thoughts of a young Spencer suffering at the hands of his father. 

“This doesn't, no.” Emily shook her head. Luke sensed there was more. 

“But…?” He goaded someone to speak. 

“Garcia has finally found where they brought the Impala. It was a small used car lot in Cedar Rapids. Reid used a licence with the name Samuel Truman which we have attributed to multiple motel check ins across the country.” Rossi spoke. 

“It’s not yet pointed to where they are, but we’re getting closer.” Garcia looked at him with the most kindness she’d ever directed towards him. “We will find them, Alvez.” 

Luke felt a pit forming in his stomach. This was the closest they’d been to finding you and Spencer and he should be positive. But he had a sinking feeling that no matter how many leads they found it would never be enough. 

Maybe he’d never be able to free you from Spencer and it probably made him a fool for still trying. But he had to try and stay focused, and had to believe their break in the case would come. If he succumbed to the negative thoughts that were trying to consume him, he may never make it back. 

And he had to do this for you. 

***

Spencer had been on edge since you’d been to Vegas. His paranoia was getting the better of him, eating him away from the inside out. 

He was absolutely certain the BAU were involved in Jesse’s reappearance and he’d spent the last few weeks trying to piece together all the ways this could blow up in both of your faces. 

He kept detailed lists of all the ways the BAU could find you, any innocuous piece of information which could give you away. He barely left the house and when he did he was constantly looking over his shoulder. The Impala had been parked in the garage since Vegas in case it could be used to track the two of you down. 

He’d been anxious to say the least. He jumped when he heard the mailman, dashed to the window every time a car drove by the house. He wasn’t sleeping, nowhere near as much as he should anyway. You were starting to worry that he was devolving. And it hit a fever pitch nearly three weeks after your return from Vegas. 

You’d grown used to being alone in bed when you woke in the morning, usually finding Spencer in the living room staring at the front door with the SIG in his hand. This morning the living room was empty, as was the kitchen. And then you noticed the garage door was open. 

Padding inside in confusion, you found him slinging a suitcase into the trunk of the Impala. You folded your arms over your chest, a frown embedded deep in your forehead as you watched him close the trunk and turn to face you. 

“Oh good you’re awake.” He nodded at you, seemingly ignoring your confusion. “Get dressed, we need to leave.” 

“Leave? Where are we going?” Your frown only deepened.

“I have no idea. But we have to go. The BAU will find us if we stay still for too long.” He picked another bag up off the ground and opened the back door of the car before tossing it in the back seat. 

“So you’re proposing we just keep moving? We’re never going to settle down somewhere?” 

“Not for the time being, no. Once we’ve got them off our backs we’ll make a long term plan. Once they aren’t on our tails we can look into fleeing the country. But right now we have to keep moving, yes.” He spoke as though his words were making perfect sense.

“Spencer, we don’t even know that they are on our backs. You’re being paranoid.” You unfolded your arms and tried to reason with him. 

“I’m not taking any risks.” He shook his head. “They could come storming into this house at any minute. We’re sitting ducks, Y/N. I’m not making it that easy on them. So get dressed so we can leave.” 

The last thing you wanted was to constantly be on the run, bouncing from city to city and never being able to put down roots. But of course with the things the two of you had done that was never going to be a realistic path. 

You didn’t really think the BAU were onto you but there was a small possibility Spencer was right and running would be safer than the alternative. So instead of arguing, you simply nodded before turning on your heels and heading back inside the house to dress. 

Half an hour later the two of you were in the car and heading east, no real destination in mind. You were gone like the wind. 

***

Penelope tottered as fast as humanly possible towards the round table room, huffing and puffing and making little squeaking sounds under her breath. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor in the bullpen as she hurriedly made her way through the desks.

It had been a week since the discovery of William Reid’s body and nearly three weeks since she’d put the APB out on the Chevy Impala. This morning she’d gotten a hit on the APB from a speed camera on the I-95 as the vehicle headed east from

California. The team had been working all morning on trying to ascertain where you and Spencer might be headed. 

But Garcia had found the smoking gun. 

She quickened her pace up the stairs and along the corridor, bursting into the room at the end and desperately trying to catch her breath while the rest of the team turned to look at her. She fought to calm her breathing, still making strange noises and her hands were shaking. 

“Garcia,” Emily spoke somewhat sternly. “What’s going on?” 

“The thing…” Garcia panted, waving her hand in the air. “I found the thing.” 

“What thing?” Tara frowned at the blonde. 

“The thing. The thing we’ve been waiting for.” She took a few deep breaths, leaning against the door frame. “I know where Spencer and Y/N are.” 

Six sets of eyes widened on her as she tried to calm her erratic breathing so she could fill them in on her findings. Luke slowly rose to his feet and moved closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“You found them?” He forced her to look at him and she nodded frantically. 

“The car…” she began between heavy pants. “Was seen just outside of Phoenix. And Samuel Truman just checked into a motel in Cave Creek which is like…thirty miles north of Phoenix. They’re in Arizona.” 

Luke’s arms fell back to his sides and he stumbled a little on his feet. He’d been waiting for this day but he’d never truly believed it would come. He glanced back at the rest of his team who were all slowly getting to their feet. 

“We found them.” Luke croaked, still sounded unbelieving of his own words.

“Well done Garcia.” Emily smiled at the tech analyst, before turning to address the rest of her team. “Wheels up. And not in twenty, now. Spencer Reid killed his father and Mary Dalton, probably more. We find him, we most likely find the murder weapon and we can build a case from there.”

“What’s going to happen to Y/N? She’s technically an accomplice, right?” Luke looked and sounded downtrodden.

“I don’t know, Alvez.” Emily shrugged. “But right now our focus is Reid. We can worry about what will happen to Y/N later.” 

With that Emily fled the room, the team following behind until Luke was left alone. It was easy enough for her to say they’d worry about you later but he hadn’t stopped worrying about you since the day you’d left the BAU. 

But he knew capturing Spencer was the main priority. And once they did Luke would continue on his mission of protecting you to the bitter end. 

***

You stood in the grimy bathroom of a seedy bar just down the road from the motel you’d stopped at on the outskirts of Cave Creek. You stared down at the item resting on the side of the sink through teary eyes. 

Since Vegas you’d been focused solely on Spencer and his devolution, you’d been so preoccupied you’d completely forgotten the thought Jesse had put in your head. 

It wasn’t until earlier that day when Spencer had stopped for gas and you’d found yourself in the bathroom on your knees with your head in the toilet bowl that it all came flooding back. While Spencer had been busy filling up the car you quickly purchased the test and stuffed it inside your purse. 

Now you were standing over the sink staring at the positive pregnancy test. 

It hadn’t even occurred to you to take the test at the motel. You’d stayed only long enough to drop your bags and then you told Spencer you needed some air before you found the closest building with a bathroom. 

You’d already been fairly certain of what the outcome of the test would be and you needed time to gather your thoughts and feelings before you told

Spencer the news. 

How the hell was this going to work? Spencer planned to pull out every trick in the book to stay one step ahead of the BAU no matter the cost. The two of you would be on the run for the rest of your lives, how could you possibly bring a child into that life? 

You knew he deserved to know, it was his child after all. But how was this going to factor into his escape plans? How would you and this baby fit into this? It was one thing for him to be bringing you along on this but a child certainly wasn’t part of his idea. 

You picked up the test as your tears overflowed. What did this mean for your future? If you even had one. 

***

Spencer stared at his reflection in the mirror, knowing it was only a matter of time. He’d told you he planned to run, and continue doing so until the heat died down but he’d been lying to you, something he’d promised never to do again.

But the truth was Spencer hadn’t fled California in the hopes of out running the BAU, he’d been purposefully trying to draw them out. 

He knew they would have figured out what car he was driving and would have a bulletin out on it. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Impala was caught on camera and the BAU were alerted. He also knew they would have found where he brought the car which was why he’d checked into this motel under the same name he’d purchased the car. 

The fact of the matter was, Spencer was too tired to keep this up any longer. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life on the run. He’d accepted his fate, he just hoped you would understand. Although he didn’t intend to be around to find out one way or another. 

If he’d told you his true intentions there was no way you would have agreed to flea Twentynine Palms. He hadn’t wanted to lie to you again but this was for the best. As long as you were smart enough to talk your way out of everything, to put all the blame on his shoulders so you could get out of this and go onto live your life then that’s all that mattered. 

Spencer Reid wasn’t afraid of death. 

He wasn’t going to allow the BAU to arrest him, certainly not. But he knew you’d never willingly leave his side and so this was the only way he could think to get you away from him.

It was his way of protecting you. He knew you’d follow him to the ends of the earth and it just wasn’t fair on you. This was his only option to save you. 

It would only be a matter of time before the BAU had this place surrounded, he imagined they were probably already on their way here now. He just had to bide his time now. It was simply a waiting game. 

Come on guys, I’m making it real easy on you. Catch me if you can. 

***

The minute the jet came to a stop on the tarmac, six bodies were already standing and heading to the doors. Two SUV’s awaited them along with a few local cop cars. 

Emily was quick to dish out the Kevlar vests which they all hurriedly secured before splitting into two teams: Luke, Tara and JJ taking one car and Emily, Rossi and Matt having the other. Before her team could jump in the vehicles she gathered them around. 

“It is imperative we tread lightly here.” She looked at each one of them individually. “We apprehend them so we can make our case against them. Spencer’s not stupid, once we have them in custody he knows it will only be a matter of time before we gather enough evidence to send him down. Hopefully he will save us the trouble and confess to everything.” 

“Stop saying them.” Luke shook his head. “I’m not going to let Y/N go down for things Reid has done.” 

“And hopefully she’ll cooperate too and tell us what we need to know. But for now Alvez, she’s just as liable as Spencer. I want them both in custody and then we can go from there.” Emily gave him a look that told Luke not to fight her on this. 

He clenched his jaw firmly and took a step backwards. 

“Fine.” He spat, knowing now wasn’t the time to get into an argument with her about this. 

“Right, let's get this show on the road.” She looked over her shoulder and gave the local cops a nod of her head as the team split apart, hopping into their separate vehicles. 

Luke got behind the wheel even though he knew he was in no state of mind to drive but he hoped it would try and focus his mind. Tara got in the backseat while JJ sat up front with Luke. As he started the engine, he was momentarily halted by JJ’s gentle touch on his tense shoulder. 

“She’s going to be ok.” JJ told him as if she knew this for a fact. But her tone paired with the look she was giving him almost made Luke believe her. 

He nodded, exhaled noisily through his nose. And then he put the car in drive and peeled away from the airstrip, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. 

***

You watched as Spencer stumbled on his feet as the realisation washed over him. His eyes were flitting between your face and your stomach for what felt like a lifetime. 

When you’d dragged yourself back to the motel armed with your news, you hadn’t expected to tell him in this way. This news was so much bigger than these crumbling four walls. But you also hadn’t expected him to be on the brink of throwing in the towel, ready to give up. You had to give him something to fight for. 

The seconds seemed like hours as he continued to look between your eyes and your belly. Long, painful seconds in which you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. 

“Say something,” you choked on a sob, hands coming to cradle your stomach out of instinct.

Spencer opened his mouth before quickly closing it again, rolling his bottom lip briefly between his teeth before trying to find his words once more. Again, he opened and closed his mouth, the only discernible sound was a small whimper he let leave his parted lips. His hands were noticeably jittering, his thumb tapping against the side of his thigh as if the rhythm was helping calm him.

You stared at Spencer, waiting for him to speak, begging him with your eyes to say anything, anything other than just staring at you this way. You watched his eyes flit from your face to your stomach and back again several more times before they finally settled on your eyes.

“You’re…?” He croaked hoarsely. “We’re…?”

“Yes.” You nodded, using one hand to wipe the tears that were hindering your vision. “Eleven weeks.” 

He opened his mouth to speak again but this time before he could get any words out he heard something off in the distance. Judging by the way your eyes widened, you heard it too. Your tears fell heavier and Spencer turned back to the window, creeping towards it and cracking the curtains barely an inch. The pitch black desert was lit up by the unmistakable blue halos, somewhere far off but certainly heading your way. The wail of the sirens quickly grew louder as they closed in on the motel. 

“Shit.” He spat, hurriedly pulling the curtains again and turning to regard you. “Shit.”

“This can’t be how it ends.” You held your stomach tighter, even more tears now breaking free. 

Spencer made quick work of crossing the room to you and placing his large hands over your smaller, delicate ones. His own eyes gave away to his fear, and if Spencer was scared you knew to be petrified. Spencer Reid was scared of nothing. 

“I won’t let it, I’ll think of something.” He closed his eyes like that might help him form a coherent thought. 

Wake up, snap out of it. Or you may well never wake up again.

His earlier conviction for his death at the hands of law enforcement had flown out the window the second you’d shared your news. He couldn’t exit this mortal coil in such a way, not now he had a child on the way. He was not leaving his child like his own father had abandoned him. There had to be a way. There just had to be.

It was funny how one simple thing could change his mind so drastically. Spencer had been sure he was ready for where this was heading, ready to stop running, to stop fighting the inevitable. He didn’t think anything or anyone could change his mind. But this wasn’t just about him or you anymore. There was so much more on the line. Getting caught suddenly wasn’t an option. 

The sirens grew louder and he could hear the gravel under tires as the vehicles got closer. The blue light of the flashing beacons bathed the room ominously, he could see it even behind his closed lids.

“Spencer!” You cried, jiggling up and down. “Spencer, do something!” 

His eyes shot open and landed on the timepiece hanging on the wall. As he watched the clock roll to midnight, Spencer knew whatever he did next he had to be sure of. If he wasn’t then the three of you might not make it out of this alive. In a perfect world, you would all get away, but as long as Spencer could secure your safety then he would have to be ok with that. As long as you lived to bring their child into the world he could worry about everything else later. 

But he had to do everything in his power for all three of you to make it out of this. 

“Spencer!” You screamed as the sirens reached fever pitch, tires screeching on the asphalt outside as multiple vehicles came to abrupt stops outside the window. 

The blue light completely encompassed the room, glowing harshly against your skin. Car doors started to slam closed and heavy footsteps on the gravelly parking lot got closer. He was sure he could hear weapons being drawn, sharp intakes of breath as the people outside his room took aim. 

“Spencer Reid, we know you’re in there.” A voice sounded over a megaphone, causing you to gasp in recognition. “Spencer, we just want to help you, please?”

Emily Prentiss’ tone was stern yet held the sadness of chasing one of her own. You looked petrified and that was only intensified when Spencer started smiling. He surprised you when he took off past you back towards the bathroom. Frowning, you quickly followed. 

“What are you doing? Spencer!” You chased after him and found him standing in the bathtub on his tiptoes and toying with a vent above the shower head. 

You watched in confusion as he made quick work of the four screws holding the vent in place before yanking it off the wall and tossing it aside. He turned back to you with a smile.

“You think I didn’t scope out an escape route?” He chuckled, holding out his hand for you which you took as you stepped into the tub. “It’s just big enough for a human body to fit through on their front. It’s a straight path, the vent on the outside is already loosened, I made sure of it. As soon as you’re out, you’re going to run. Run as fast as you fucking can and do not look back. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

“Spencer Reid! If you can hear me, you need to come out with your hands up!” Emily’s voice sounded angrier now and he knew he didn’t have much time. 

“What about you? You’ll be right behind me, right?” You grabbed his face in your hands, cloying to him like he was your only lifeline. 

“Don’t worry about me, princess.” He smiled, bowing his head to capture your lips in a chaste kiss as he placed his hand on your belly. “I need you to focus on yourself and this little one.” 

“Spencer, do not get yourself killed.” You sobbed. “We can’t do this without you.” 

“And you won’t.” He tried to insist, although he wasn’t entirely sure of that fact himself. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

He kissed you again, this time laced with slightly more passion. Then he took a step back in the tub, bent down and placed a kiss on your stomach. 

“Reid, if you don’t come out in the next sixty seconds we will breach the room.” This time it was Luke’s voice that permeated your momentary solitude. 

“Spencer, I’m scared.” You whimpered when he stood back to his full height. 

“I know. But trust me when I say, everything will be ok.” He wiped your tears once more whilst reaching behind himself with his free hand. 

When he grasped your wrist and placed his firearm in your palm, you gasped, shaking your head frantically. 

“Spence?”

“Take it, just in case.” He curled your fingers around it before ushering you towards the vent. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you from behind, closer to the vent opening. You turned your head and placed one last kiss on his lips. 

“I lo…” you choked, quickly correcting yourself. “You’re my partner in crime, Spencer Reid.” 

“And you’re mine. But I promise you I will see you sooner than you think.” He hoisted you higher and you tossed the gun up inside the vent before reaching out and grabbing the ledge. 

He knew it wasn’t a promise he could keep, you probably knew it too, but he hoped it helped in any small way. 

You pulled yourself up with Spencer’s help and wriggled onto your stomach in the small opening. When his hands left your body you suddenly felt desperately alone, wanting to immediately drop back down, fall into his arms and never let him go. 

“Go, Y/N, please. You have to go.” He encouraged you. 

“Thirty seconds, Reid! Don’t be stupid. Come out with your hands up!” Luke’s voice engulfed you both and with a small whimper you started to crawl forward down the vent, leaving half of your heart behind. 

Spencer bent down and retrieved his second weapon from its hiding place inside his boot. He only had seconds to pull off a miracle. If this went wrong he would be killed, or worse, arrested. 

Quickly stepping out of the tub and opening the cabinet beneath the sink he pulled out the large canister he’d stashed under there earlier in the day. It had been his back plan of sorts, if for whatever reason he changed his mind and decided to fight this. And now he was glad he’d had the forethought. This could quite literally blow up in his face. But he had to try, for the sake of his unborn baby. 

“Twenty seconds!” Luke yelled again but Spencer wasn’t perturbed. 

Taking a deep breath he uncapped the bottle and rushed back into the bedroom where he poured two thirds of it onto the strategic pile of clothes he’d left on the floor next to the bed. He walked backwards towards the bathroom, drizzling a trail from the clothes to the bathroom door. 

“Ten seconds!” Luke called once again. 

Spencer dropped the now empty container on the floor and stepped back inside the tub. He manoeuvred under the shower head and clambered up onto the lip of the tub, only just able to grip the edge of the vent opening. 

His hand shook a little as he pointed his gun over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes on his target. One false move and it would all be over. He had one shot to get this right or he would never have the chance to meet his child. 

He curled his finger around the trigger at the exact moment he heard the front door come crashing down and a flurry of law enforcement breach the motel. He took aim, he tightened his grip on the gun. 

He swore as he pulled that trigger whilst desperately trying to pull himself to safety he saw Luke step over the threshhold of the bathroom, seconds before Spencer disappeared for good.

He left his old friend with a smile. A smile that conveyed he had won again. And then the explosion rang out in the small room, wracking the walls as the gas was ignited by the bullet propelled from the chamber. 

Spencer forced himself down the vent as the heat from the rapidly growing fire started to fill the room accompanied by the sound of screams. 

He’d pulled out every trick in his arsenal to make this last escape. He didn’t regret a moment of it, not a single one since starting this crusade. Because everything he’d done had led him to you and your future child. 

The BAU never stood a chance. And his last thought and he pulled himself to freedom was, you’ll never catch us, mother fuckers. 

Feeling you closing in,

Brushing against my skin.

Make you betray your eyes

When I hide in plain sight,

That's just the way I win.

I paved my path,

Somewhere hard to follow.

Outplayed, outclassed,

I said…

Catch me if you can,

I'm gone just like the wind now.

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can.

I pull out every trick,

I don't regret a thing, no.

You're runnin' after me,

Chasing apologies.

When you can't get a grip.

I paved my path,

Somewhere hard to follow.

Outplayed, outclassed,

I said…

Catch me if you can,

I'm gone just like the wind now.

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can,

I only feel at home when I'm on the run,

I only open doors just to pick the locks.

Too busy throwing stones at your fragile thoughts,

I paved my path,

Outplayed, outclassed.

Catch me if you can,

(I'm gone just like the wind now).

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no, hah.

So catch me if you can.

So catch me if you can,

Woo!

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can.

So catch me if you can.

@bubblebuttewade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories