#but at the same time i WAS dead i died a week before of some sickness and ny parents kept me in the house

[gyubakeries]

your work is so so sooo good. you write angst and fluff so well wow. could i please request a similar drabble with seungkwan? any plot is great, just the same loving doting boyfriend as in your seungcheol drabble

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱-𝗮𝗶𝗱 | b.sk

a/n: hi anon! im so glad you liked the seungcheol drabble <3 thanks for requesting this!! kwan is so bf material... this wasnt really hard to write lmaoo. hope you like this!

word count: 2.2k contents: seungkwan x afab!reader , idol!seungkwan , waitress!reader , domestic fluff , mentions of injury (just a small cut) , a little angst , but we get comfort so thank you kwan , set right after nana tour , seungkwan being a pro-nagger

"y/n, just go home," your co-worker, hyeri, sighs. "i'll cover for you."

"i'm fine, hyeri," you shake your head, continuing to wipe down the empty tables.

"you look dead from the lack of sleep," hyeri counters, taking the cleaning rag away from you. "i could see those dark circles under your eyes from miles away."

"are you telling me i look like a panda?" you gasp, and hyeri shoots you an unimpressed look.

"go home, or i'm calling seungkwan up," hyeri threatens, and your eyes widen at the mention of your boyfriend's name.

"are you crazy? don't say that out loud! you never know when someone is listening!" you whisper-yell. dating an idol from a famous kpop group was a tough job, especially when their fans could be lurking anywhere.

"there's literally no one here," hyeri points out. "because it's closing time. now go home before i kick your ass."

"but-"

"non negotiable," hyeri cuts you off. "you've closed every night for the last two weeks, so let me do it now. go home and get some rest, y/n. i'm worried about you."

your shoulders slump. you hated that hyeri had to do your job, but a tiny part of you felt relieved to be going home and finally getting some shut-eye.

"thank you so much, i'll treat you to lunch soon," you say. "at the expensive hot-pot place you like."

hyeri squeals with excitement, and you can only smile at her antics before heading out to the back of the restaurant, grabbing your things, and leaving for the day.

it's almost midnight by the time you're stepping into your apartment. you immediately head into your bedroom to put your phone on charge, it having died sometime during the day while you were working. you quickly go into the bathroom to take a shower, eager to get clean and finally hit the bed, unaware of the text messages lighting up your screen while you shower.

once you're dressed in comfortable clothes, you tuck yourself into bed. you wait for sleep to claim you as soon as your head hits the pillow, but..... it doesn't.

you lie awake, staring at the ceiling blankly. you feel so tired, but your eyes refuse to shut. the frustration overwhelms you, threatening to make unshed tears spill from your eyes. just when you thought things couldn't get worse, your stomach starts rumbling loudly.

groaning because of this unfair situation the universe decided to put you in when all you wanted was to sleep, you get out of bed and walk into the kitchen, hoping to make some ramen for yourself.

you open the cupboard to fetch some instant ramen after putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. while waiting for the water, you take out an egg and some green onion from your fridge.

the ramen noodles go into the water and you take out a knife to chop up some green onions, just to be fancy. just then, a wave of tiredness washes over you, making your eyelids droop.

you yawn, carelessly cutting the green onion. a combination of your exhaustion and your vision blurring with tears as you yawn again makes you miscalculate where your knife lands, and in the blink of an eye, there's a gash on your index finger, bright red blood oozing out of it.

"shit!" you exclaim, rushing to the kitchen sink to run some cold water over your finger. in your panic, you barely register the door to your apartment opening and your boyfriend walking in.

"y/n! i'm ho- shit, what happened?" seungkwan gasps, seeing you hunched over the kitchen sink. he rushes to you, dropping his bag to the floor. he nearly screams too when he sees the cut on your finger and the blood spilling from it.

"wait here, i'll get the first-aid kit," he snaps into action, but you stop him.

"switch the stove off, or the next mess we'll have to clean is the ramen," you instruct, pointing at the ramen bubbling dangerously on the stove.

seungkwan does as you say, and then rushes into the bedroom to find the first-aid kit. he's back in the kitchen in no time, holding a box of band-aids, some cotton, and.... a sharpie?

the cotton turns out to be drenched in warm water, which he uses to clean the wound gently. he then takes a band-aid out of the box and carefully wraps it around your finger, making sure to cover the cut entirely. and then comes the role of the sharpie.

seungkwan pulls the injured finger closer to him and takes off the cap of the marker. his eyebrows furrow with concentration as he brings the pen to the band-aid, drawing something onto it.

when he releases your finger, you see that he's drawn the face of a puppy onto the band-aid. your heart melts.

"kwan, that's so cute!" you squeal, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just happened. and also the fact that your boyfriend was an expert at nagging.

"yah, y/n, don't you think you should be more careful?" seungkwan scolds lightly. "what if the cut was deeper? or your finger got chopped off? what if i hadn't come home at that time? you didn't even know i was going to come! do you know how worried i was when you didn't read my texts?"

your smile is quickly replaced by a frown, and you suddenly feel tired again. seungkwan notices the abrupt change in your mood, and immediately feels bad for scolding you.

"babe, i'm sorry," he apologizes, coming closer to you to take your hands in his. "i was just really worried, you know?"

you only nod in response. you weren't upset because of seungkwan, but because of how pathetic and monotonous your life had become over the last few weeks.

"y/n, talk to me," seungkwan tries, not liking the distant look in your eyes. he could also tell that you were tired from your pale and sullen face. "is everything okay?"

his concerned tone feels like a hug to all the turmoil in your head, and that prompts the first few tears to escape your eyes. you look up at seungkwan, and his distressed expression only upsets you more, making you sob louder.

seungkwan doesn't hesitate for a second, pulling you against his chest in a warm embrace. you inhale deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne that never fails to soothe you.

"how about we lay down?" seungkwan suggests after a while. you nod again, so he carefully guides the both of you towards your bedroom, gently pulling you down next to him on the bed, his arms never leaving your waist.

"do you want to talk about what's been bothering you? was it what i said?" seungkwan asks once your sobs had reduced to sniffles.

"i'm tired." you state. it's the truth, but it's far more complex than just tiredness.

"of course you are. not sleeping for a week does that to people," seungkwan replies in a matter-of-factly tone.

"how did you know that?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"hyeri texted me earlier. i would have gone to pick you up after your shift, but my dance practice was still on," he answers. "so, what's been up with you? missed me so much you couldn't sleep?"

he said it as a joke, but the words strike a sensitive spot.

"i did," you answer truthfully. "i missed you a lot. it felt like hell without you. and i'm used to months of not seeing you, but this time we couldn't even text because you were busy filming, and it's ridiculous of me to complain about it because it's literally your job, but i missed you a lot. i tried sleeping but i couldn't. not without you texting me a stupid meme vernon sent you before nagging at me to go to sleep. not without you there to hold me. it was torture, kwan."

seungkwan's eyes widen slightly at your rant. he knew long distance was tough, and you two had been through a lot together, but he knew something else was bothering you. you weren't the type to break down this easily.

"i missed you too, babe," seungkwan sighs, pulling you closer to him. "i hated not being able to see your face, especially after i promised to meet you after i came back from japan."

"it's okay, kwannie, i understand," you knew that seungkwan himself wasn't aware of the surprise trip to italy, so you can't really blame him. he also needed that week-long break, especially after having worked so hard.

"thank you, love," seungkwan mutters into your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp to alleviate some tension. "but there's something else that's troubling you. i noticed that you were always worrying about something for a few months. you seemed aloof, and i tried to bring it up, but there was never time. what's up?"

"i feel like i'm stuck," you explain. "my life isn't moving forward. it's the same routine of go to work, clean tables, serve food, come home and do chores, and then repeat. i've wanted to do so much more, but i'm just stuck here."

seungkwan's heart breaks at the exhaustion in your voice. you had told him about how you've always wanted to have your own restaurant, which was the only reason you were working in a restaurant yourself.

"babe, it's okay to feel tired sometimes," he comforts you. "there are times when even i feel like i'm stuck in a rut. go to the studio to record, practice room to practice choreo, attend interviews, and repeat it all again. at the start, even i had doubted getting myself into this career, but i realized how deep my passion for music was, which is why i stayed. and the members too, of course."

"i know you love food and cooking, so just stick to your passion. don't give up on it. your big break will come one day. plus, you know mingyu and i will gladly fund your restaurant. you just have to ask, baby."

seungkwan's words have this ability to heal all your wounds. they're like a soothing balm to your sore body, and you're so thankful to have such a caring and loving person in your life.

"if i start my restaurant, i want to do it myself," you crack a small smile. "you're always free to help with the interior design, though."

"thank god, your interior choices are.... questionable," seungkwan teases.

"hey! you can't say that to me!" you pout, but seungkwan doesn't relent.

"seriously? do i have to remind you of that hideous statue of a chihuahua you bought? because you thought it was cute?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow at you.

"it was cute, okay?" you say defensively. "plus, i gave it away because you refused to enter my apartment if it stayed!"

"there was nothing cute about that abomination," seungkwan shudders. "it was a chihuahua wearing red pants and an orange bow-tie. anyways, my point is still valid. i'd be glad to help you design your restaurant."

"thank you, kwan," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. "you always know what to say to make me feel better. how do you do it?"

"i'm magical, baby," seungkwan shoots an over-exaggerated wink at you, making you burst into laughter. "can i say something even better? i'll get all the members to come to your restaurant and we'll post it on our instagram. that kind of publicity would boost your restaurant to the big leagues instantly."

"sure, baby, you can bring all the guys," you nod, endeared by how enthusiastic seungkwan was. you've had a lot of people doubting your plans for your future career as it had bleak prospects, but having seungkwan by your side had reassured you to follow your dreams. he had never lost faith in you, even on days when you yourself gave up on your goals, and it had motivated you to a great extent.

"you've been by my side through everything, y/n," seungkwan whispers softly, looking into your eyes with nothing but adoration and love. "i can't wait to see you grow and become the brightest star too. i'll be there by your side, just like you've been there for me."

"seungkwan- i-" you're at a loss for words. his words are so genuine, and you really don't know what you'd done in your past life to have someone love you so entirely. "i don't even know what to say."

"maybe start with, 'oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!' or maybe even 'you're so cute it makes me want to cook my special ramen for you.' any one of those works really," seungkwan says cheekily, and you playfully slap his chest, followed by a loud yawn from the both of you.

"let's have ramen for breakfast tomorrow," you mumble sleepily.

"i gave you another option...." seungkwan sulks jokingly, making you laugh.

"oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!" you giggle, speaking in a shrill voice to sound like one of the many fans who fawn over seungkwan. humming with satisfaction, seungkwan presses a loud smooch to your forehead, squeezing you tightly, and then releasing you. your bodies never stray too far away though, always closely intertwined with each other.

and when you wake up the next morning, well-rested and to the sound of seungkwan singing along to girl group songs in the living room while cleaning, you forget about everything that had been weighing you down.

the band-aid on your finger covered the wound on your finger that healed slowly, and seungkwan's love was the band-aid on your heart, healing something he never broke.

- fin.

[tchaikovskaya]

I could/should elaborate when I’m not falling asleep as I am rn but like. I feel like for the people who you “mourn” who have died young and/or suddenly who you knew only in passing, or only casually interacted with, or were once close to but in the years between then and their death you barely spoke, etc etc etc, you arent actually mourning them or their presence in ur life (and now palpable absence) (supposedly) but just what it means to be a human on earth who has to grapple with inevitable loss and the immense weight of what a Person is and their footprint on everyone they interact with that is fleeting even tho there are several billions of us on the floating rock but none of those billions of lifetimes are ever overlapping 100%…. sigh :/

[milo-is-rambling]

God having complicated emotions is so fucking draining

[theonpilled]

x

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* The mating habits of Yandere! Animal-Human Monsters

Yandere!Monster men who sometimes forget that their poor darling is a human and misinterprets their actions when it comes to mating. Short drabbles about yanderes trying to seduce their darlings, but the list gets progressively darker the further down you read.

*Warning* dub-con, non-con, yandere possessiveness, dead dove

Yandere!Crow Harpy who was a little disappointed when you refused to move out of your house. You didn't understand why the feathered man seemed so infatuated with you, but after a long while of him begging you to move in with him you agreed, only on the condition that he moved into your home. It wasn't a traditional harpy relationship, but he was ecstatic regardless, deciding that if he couldn't build a nest with you he could at least win your favor as a perfect mate by decorating it. It got on your nerves sometimes, coming home from work to find shiny bits of trash and feathers tucked into every nook and cranny of your home. Eventually the two of you created a list of acceptable "treasure" to bring home, and what you considered to be actual garbage. He spent weeks "decorating" your already furnished house, before one day pulling you into the living room where he had piled every blanket and pillow you owned into a makeshift nest on the floor. His smile was insecure, desperate for your approval as he wrapped you into his large wings, holding you tightly against his warm body before sinking down into the mass of fluffy objects. You could hear his heart hammering against his chest erratically as he gently began placing kisses against your collar.

"I wanted to help build a home with you, so it wasn't yours or mine, but ours. I pray that my attempts to prove I'll keep you and our future children comfortable impressed you..."

Yandere!Merman who couldn't help but feel awestruck by your beauty, often going on long rants about how much you inspire him. It was a chance encounter while you were studying abroad, and you grew emotionally attached to the beautiful man who sang you words of praise. Although he whined whenever you had to leave the beach, the bags under his eyes became deeper as the weeks went on, chronic exhaustion taking it's toll on the merman. Whenever you tried to convince him that his sleep was important, he would only give a dopey smile, responding cryptically about how his secret project was just as important as spending time with you, and that he would have time to sleep once it was all over. One day when you arrived on the beach he was already there, shaking with excitement and impatiently trying to drag you into the ocean before you could get on your snorkeling gear. Deep where the sun barely touched, a huge intricate mural was sculpted into the ocean floor. As your eyes widened in an attempt to take in just how massive the artwork was, following each perfectly symmetrical swirl, two strong arms snaked around your waist with a tired, yet content, sigh. He blew words into your ear that you were somehow able to understand despite the water, as he sunk with you into the middle of the circular masterpiece.

"You take my breath away every time we meet, and I wanted to do the same for you. Please say that, if you could, you would lie here in my arms forever.."

Yandere!Puppy-Hybrid who was always just a ball of energy, a hyperactive sweet heart who couldn't sit still when he was awake. Most of your days together, it was easy to forget that he could even have urges, with how innocent your relationship was, kisses and cuddles but nothing more. As a species who had mating cycles, although he would never tell you out loud, he was always waiting for you to go into heat. But it was taking so long! He did such a good job being a patient boy for you, you didn't even know why he was being so whiny lately, attributing his neediness to his attention seeking personality. But eventually, he took your phone to do some research. At first he was shocked, humans didn't have mating cycles?? How did you know when it was time to make a baby? Then he came across an amazing discovery. Ovulation. It took a couple of months, holding your belly to his face and breathing deeply for a couple of minutes each day, but he finally learned the subtle changes in your scent throughout your cycle. You had no idea what was going on, thinking he was just being extra goofy lately, until he refused to let go one day, tightening his grasp as his breathing turned into heavy pants, grinding your leg in between his.

"Ah.. you can't hide it from me.. I've been waiting for this for so long... Please don't say no..."

Yandere!Humanoid Spider who always did his best to never frighten you. Even when you first met, it was with him holding his hands up and pleading for you not to run away from him in a soothing voice. Despite the lower half of the creature you met in the forest being a giant spider, the top half was such a kind and handsome man that you quickly began to trust him, soon considering him to be a good friend. He was so thoughtful, always raising his hands as a show of surrender, whether he was approaching you from afar and didn't want to startle you or if you were jokingly fighting over something silly. Even amongst humans, he was the one you trusted the most. If you had known anything about spiders though, you would have been more on guard with his overt displays of feebleness, especially after he began telling you how beautiful you were. You didn't even fight back at first when he suddenly grabbed you from, until he bit into your neck. The kind man, no, the monster you thought you knew, wasted no time sliding your pants down as he still held your backside to his chest, chuckling into your shoulder.

"Ah, my stupid little human~ Were you just pretending to be that naive because you wanted me to take you? ❤️"

Yandere!Naga who couldn't feel love in the same way that humans did. As a researcher working towards her doctorate specializing in Naga people and their many sub species, you were overjoyed to meet a small tribe of Naga men who were willing to allow you to enter their home and record their daily lives. There were so many types of Nagas loosely related to snake species still alive today, and they each had their own cultures, languages, and biology. Based on the coloration you couldn't tell what type these men were, but despite not being fluent in their language they were very kind to you. They seemed to have been in a period of mourning before you arrived, and lavished all their attention on you, babbling on in one sided conversations you could only understand a few words of here and there. One phrase they all stated was flattering only for the first few times they repeated it, but quickly became unnerving as they became more comfortable caressing your face and running their fingers through your hair. And when they pulled you into the center of a giant nest, taking turns thrusting their long tongues down your throat and running their hands over your body, trapping you in a pile of cold men staring deep into your soul with hungry eyes, you learned the species they were closest to.

"We need you... We need you..."

Yandere!Humanoid Scorpion who rescued you after a tourist attraction went arry, promising to protect you until you could be rescued. A strong, bulky man who enjoyed holding you (almost too tightly) in his arms whenever his peers came near. Everything was honestly lovely until in the black of night you were awoken by a strange chorus of sounds echoing outside the burrow the hybrids allowed you to sleep in. A blue light illuminated the large home, and as it noticed you finally woke, approached, revealing himself to be the scorpion man who rescued you, glowing with bioluminescence. Before you could ask what was happening, fear struck you like a bolt of lightening seeing a large, inhuman cock emerging from just below his human half. He lunged forward, and you threw up your hands in self defence. Your hands intertwined with his, fighting against him with all of your strength, but the harder you fought, the more excited he grew. You pushed and pulled, but he didn't loosen his hold on you. Eventually it seemed he had enough playing, and threw you effortlessly onto the bed. Tears streamed down your face at your helplessness, but this only widened his smile as he peeled the shirt off your sweaty body.

"There is no need to fear, my mate. As you can see, no one can match my strength. You and our brood shall be safe under my protection.."

Yandere!Humanoid Waterbug disgusted you, from the twitch of his antenna to the flirtatiousness of his voice. The moment you met him on the water of your lake house, there was no escape. Every time you left or returned back home he was effortlessly skating across the waters surface towards you, begging you to come closer. Although you did your best to ignore him, his loud cries for attention eventually wore you down. Maybe if you entertained him just this once he would leave you alone? You approached him calmly, but as soon as you were within reach he grasped your hands tightly, pulling you partially into the water. He spoke sickly sweet words of affection, chilling you more painfully than the cold morning lake water. You tried to turn him down politely, gently pulling at his grip. He pulled you into the water further, swiftly pushing the two of you away from the shore in one kick of his legs, his unamused gaze no longer holding the playful, flirty gleam it had before. One set of hands held yours tightly, while another pair grabbed your head shoving it without warning under the water. You struggled against his grasp, rapidly losing oxygen as you panicked, black spots filling your vision. But before you lost consciousnesses, he brought you back up, still staring into your eyes with cold fury as your lungs felt like they caught fire. He confessed his love again, but when you began sobbing he thrust you face forward into the water again with a painful smack, holding you down beneath him until stopped struggling. In the air once more, snot flowed and mixed freely with your tears as he aggressively smashed his face into yours, fishing out your tongue and biting it harshly.

"There's only one correct answer to my question, (Reader).. Be mine, or die. If I can't have you, then no one can."

Yandere!Marsupial Hybrid you never saw coming. Lost in the Australian outback, you cursed yourself and your impossibly terrible luck. Hybrids and monsters freely roaming the world were terrifying enough, but being in the land where even the greenery was planted by Satan himself? Your phone had lost it's signal about two hours ago, and your jeep died shortly after that. Trudging along by foot, you continuously felt eyes following your every step, and the fear that a giant spider or monster snake was stalking you made you cry for hours as you walked under the merciless sun. On top of the heat and new blisters forming on your soles, you had to use a restroom as well. Quickly surveying the tall bushes to make sure you weren't about to go next to one of Satan's previously mentioned bushes, you pulled down your shorts in discomfort. The feeling of eyes on you hadn't left since your vehicle randomly gave out despite being double checked before you left the city, but your bladder couldn't care at that moment. A rustle nearby ended your attempt to go before it started, pulling up your shorts so fast it hurt. A hybrid with round ears and a lung brown tail with white spots charged into you, knocking you down. His face was red and slick with tears and sweat, his eyes wide and frantic as he latched his sharp teeth into your neck with excitement. Everything was so fast, with his alternating between feverish rambling and biting into whatever part of your flesh he could reach as he tore off your clothes with a desperation you couldn't comprehend. Tears blended with your own as he kissed, licked and bit every piece of you as he fought your legs open, ignoring your screams of pain.

"You accepted me didn't you?! You knew I chose you! Ah, it hurts! Why'd you put your clothes back o-ah! I need you, I need you now!"

[parfaitblogs]

peace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you self isolate, and spencer knows better than to let it get too bad. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. suicide ideation? ("i want it to end"). depression. lots of stuff that coincides with that. brief mention of reader not eating/having no food. please be aware of your triggers. i think i mention reader as a girl somewhere? word count: 1.9k a/n: i finished this then relistened to peace (taylor swift) which was the og inspo for this, and added a section in the middle so if it feels weird its because i failed at integrating it! this was supposed to be out two days ago. all my relationship insecurities in a fic. lol how embarrassing here's my heart tumblr dot com!! anyways enjoy ily all

also posted here on my ao3 !

Three consistent raps against your front door was the only sound that got you up that day, pyjamas that you had not shed from your body in a week hanging off a frame that could probably be described as lifeless — with the nearly dead-looking face to match.

In fact, the only thing to prove you were still a living human being aside from your movement, was the pink hue around your eyes, on your nose, and above your lips, indicating how much you had cried recently. 

Usually, it isn't this bad. You just need a day or two of rotting in your apartment and doing nothing but scrolling on your phone until it died, staring at the wall, or — on the better days — watching reruns of a 90s sitcom that you don't really watch. 

But it was exceptionally bad this time around, for some odd reason, and not one part of you actually wanted to get up and out of bed for long enough to be productive about your day. Your phone had died again, after charging it two days ago, which meant you were on day six of no communication with anybody. Which might partly be why it was so bad now. 

You had a blanket wrapped around your body, dragging against the floor as you wiped your eyes and let out a small sigh, unlocking your front door and opening it, completely unsurprised by the person standing on the other side. 

He was the only one who ever paid enough attention to your disappearing act when you were like this. 

His eyes softened at the sight of you — which is kind of amusing, considering you thought you looked like death reincarnate currently. 

Neither of you said anything as you stepped aside to allow him in, the door clicking shut behind him as he placed down the leather bag he had slung over his body, turning back to you as he finally allowed the frown to appear — one you knew he would've had the entire way here.

"Have you eaten today?" was the first thing to break the silence — the question coming out so gentle you were sure you'd break down again at some point in the next few seconds. 

You wordlessly shook your head, and he nodded his own, saying nothing else as he walked into your kitchen, knowing you'd trail behind him no matter what. 

He opened your fridge first, before closing it when he was greeted with the alarming sight of nothing. Doing the same with your pantry, at which he turned around to look at you.

"Angel, you have no food," he said. And while it held no malice in the tone of his voice, you could tell he was slightly annoyed at the fact. Your heart ached. 

"I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled, and his eyebrows creased inwards. 

He didn't mention your apology — arguing with you about your vast use of 'sorry's' is futile. "Do you want a pizza?" he asked instead, and even though you, mentally, did not, you knew he wasn't actually asking. So you only nodded your head, and found a place at your countertop, the blanket falling from your body and pooling to the ground in a heap.

He ordered a pizza, and then he was nudging your knees apart, standing between them while you stayed sat on a stool, his chin atop your head, that was buried into his chest. 

And he said nothing, as he held you like that until the pizza arrived. And then he ensured you had at least eaten two slices, the remainders going in your fridge for the next meal you needed to eat. 

He was so kind to you, with his every movement, as he dragged you into the bathroom to help you shower. 

It was heartbreaking, the love you could see in his eyes. The tenderness in every stroke of his fingers against your scalp as he washed your hair, the softness in his touch as he did the same to your body. He gently dried you, told you to stay there, disappeared, and returned with one of his many t-shirts left in your apartment drawers. 

That was when you cracked. When he pulled the shirt over your head, that smelled so painfully Spencer and you. The mix of his clean scent and your own laundry detergent that you were so accustomed to, triggering something in you.

So, you crumpled to the floor of your bathroom, and he followed soon after, his arms wrapped around your body once more, firm enough to keep you still as you sobbed into his chest. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that for. Long enough for your head to hurt, and your eyes to sting, and hideous snot bubbles to stain his cardigan. 

When your sobs subsided, he spoke. 

"You wanna talk about it?" he said, quietly, and you shook your head. 

"Don't know what to talk about," you mumbled, and he knew that all too well.

He nodded his own head. "Did something happen?"

"Lots of little things."

"Yeah? You wanna tell me about them?"

You hesitated, because you didn't know where to begin. But then you nodded your head wordlessly, swallowing the lump — and, by extension, the sob — in your throat. "I fell down on the stairs at the train station in front of everybody. And then I missed my stop, and I was late to work. And I had a huge project due, but I didn't finish it, and I forgot I hadn't finished it, and I was anxious about it all day. And I think my friends are just pretending to be my friends, because I keep trying to make plans with one of them, and she keeps blowing me off for her boyfriend. And I'm just really sick of being sad all the time, Spencer. I want it to end."

With the onslaught of your bad vignettes throughout the past month coming back up, you broke down, again. Another sob escaping your lips as you pushed your fists down into the tops of his thighs.

If it hurt, he didn't say anything; simply continued to hold you against his chest, on the floor of your bathroom, that, if it were any other time, he would be having a field day rambling about the germs you both were currently sitting on. 

He also didn't say anything for a while as you sobbed, instead his fingers entangled gently in your hair, and he peppered kisses along the top of your head. 

"I don't want it to end for you," he finally said. His hands slid down from your scalp to your face, holding your cheeks with such tender, pulling you back so he could look at you. 

You sniffled. "I'm so exhausted."

"I know, my love. I know," he sighed, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones. "Ending it won't fix that. You know, logically, however you die is the state you'll be in, in the afterlife. So if you die while you're exhausted..."

"You don't believe in the afterlife," you answer, but his words still cracked through your tearful expression, and your lips twitched with a small smile. 

He returned the small smile, nodding his head. "That's true. But I also don't know anything about post-death. I could be wrong."

"How terrible," you mutter, and he laughed, quietly. 

"I know," he mused, falling silent for a few moments longer, with only both of your quiet breathing to break the silence. 

His fingers ran through your hair once more, and you sniffled audibly, your brain wandering away from the small content you had felt in that exchange, and back to one of the many reasons why you had isolated in the first place. 

"Why are you still with me?" you said, slicing through the silence all at once. 

You watched the smile fall, and his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips part as he went — and hesitated — to say something. "What do you mean?"

"I'm difficult." Your voice is impossibly small, and it breaks a crack in his heart as his eyes soften. 

"No. You're not," he reassured. 

"Yes I am," you breathed out — and then the tears came back. "I get sad and then I stop responding and stop seeing you, and you don't get any warning even though I know you should, and I feel so awful every time but then that makes me feel worse. And I'm sad all the fucking time, Spencer. I mean, I get upset when you aren't at home and you have to deal with all those messages and calls even though you hate texting, but then you get home and I'm isolating myself because I'm sad, on top of all the other things that make me sad, and you deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you their all and—and—"

"Hey," he cut you off, as did the sob that was ripped from your throat. "No. That's not what we're going to do. Do not sit there and tell me what I do and don't deserve." 

"But you do deserve better."

"No," he sighed, resting his forehead on your own, warm breath fanning across your face that usually made you scrunch your face up and pull away, now comforting you. "Do you love me?"

"What? Yes, of course I do. Why would you even—"

"—That is the only requirement I have for you," he said, oh so simply. When you didn't reply, he pressed, "Okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, and he relaxes a little.

More silence fell between you, your tears subsiding and your shaking body relaxing a little more. 

Then, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell down?"

You nodded your head, reluctantly pulling back from him so you could show him. You pointed to a yellowing bruise just below your knee, and the grazes on the bottom halves of your palms. 

"Oh, wow. Look at these," Spencer said, running a thumb gently over the grazes on your hands. "You're braver than me. These would've taken me out."

You laughed, and you saw his face light up at the progress he was making with you, and your mood. 

He then pulled you back into his chest. More silence, but less anxiety, and you sat comfortably in his arms for a few moments longer. 

"Did I worry you?" you say. "Not responding?"

You were so close to him you could hear his breath hitch, and you prepared yourself for a lie about how he wasn't worried at all. Except; "Honestly? Yes."

"Oh."

He exhaled, shakily, and you were kind of glad he couldn't see your sadder expression, half-buried into his chest. 

"You've never gone that long without checking in," he then explained. "The first two days I got what was going on. By the fourth I figured you still needed space. Today I just had a gut feeling."

"Just a gut feeling?" you echoed, and you felt his head nod against your own. 

"Thought you might need someone."

You sighed. "I hate that you're a genius."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't."

His fingers entangled in your hair again. "I also didn't figure you needed me here because I'm a genius."

"No? Then how?" you asked.

"It's simple," he murmured, tugging your head back oh so gently so he could look at you again — puffy eyed, and tear-stained cheeks and all. "I just know."

"That's the most illogical sentence I've ever heard leave your mouth."

He laughed, and you smiled again.

"Come on," he then said, untangling your limbs and pulling the both of you up to your feet, hands ghosting your waist to hold you steady. "I am willing to sit through whatever awful movie you want me to watch."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[ohisms]

↪ 𝑽𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 . ( a collection of sentence starters from the 2004 film . adjust phrasing as necessary . mature themes present . )

oh , [ name ] . it's just you .

where are you going to run , [ name ] ?

what are you saying ?

why do you think i brought you here ?

you said you believed in my work .

i would kill myself before helping in such a task .

you've been so kind to me , [ name ] .

you can't kill me , [ name ] .

so , you're the great [ name ] .

we all have our little problems .

let's make it your decision , shall we ?

i wish you a week in hell .

why don't you do something about it ?

this is all a test of faith .

i can curse all i want , dammit .

you . turn around .

strangers don't last long here .

the laws of men mean little to me .

i don't need your help .

you stay here . they're trying to kill me .

nice to see you too , [ name ] .

did i do something to you in a past life ?

i hope you do have a heart , [ name ] . because someday i'd like to drive a stake through it .

your reputation precedes you .

i am hollow ! and i will live ... forever .

please , say you will not try again .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

i was unprepared . it won't happen again .

do you understand forgiveness ?

i would rather die than help you .

don't be boring , everyone who says that always dies .

may he rest in peace .

how long has it been , 300 , 400 years ?

you don't remember , do you ?

what exactly is it i am to be remembering ?

it's no surprise you would know all about me .

we have such history , you and i .

have you ever wondered why you have such horrific nightmares ?

[ name ] , it's alright , i'm taking you home .

what , did you think we haven't tried everything before ?

no one knows how to kill [ name ] .

i could have used that information earlier .

would you like me to refresh your memory a little ?

allow me to ... reintroduce myself .

i think we've overstayed our welcome .

don't give me that look .

you were right . i'm sorry .

monster ? who's the monster here ? i have done nothing wrong !

look , there's still time .

you were right . i'm sorry .

do you have any family , [ name ] ?

if you value your lives , and the lives of your kin , you will kill me .

evil may have created it , may have left its mark on it , but evil does not rule it .

now you know why they call me a murderer .

oh my god ... you've been bitten .

so much trouble ... so much trouble .

now you will become that which you hunted so passionately . may others be as passionate in their hunting of you .

don't worry , god will forgive us .

how many commandments can we break in one day ?

oh my god , you should be terrified .

how does it feel to be a puppet on my string ?

neither of us has ever settled for half .

you make my skin crawl .

i'm not gonna like this , am i ?

one brief moment of pain , and we can be together forever .

you have no heartbeat .

you are nothing but damned bones , and damned souls .

well , that doesn't sound like a good thing .

we don't have a choice . just don't get killed .

you don't understand , it doesn't matter what happens to me .

god is not the only one that can create life .

you can't go until i say you can go , and i say you can go when you're dead !

you're supposed to die .

we are both part of the same great game , [ name ] , we just find ourselves on opposite sides of the board .

you are being used , [ name ] , as was i . but i escaped , so can you .

if you're going to kill someone , kill them . don't stand there talking about it .

all i want is life . the continuation of my kind .

some things are better left forgotten .

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny dies every night.

So! Danny's secret Ghost Powers remained a secret for about 6 Hours.

After turning back into a Human, he had immediately gone back to his room and tried to fall asleep, pretending none of it was even real, that it was just a dream. The idea that he had just died was understandably hard to swallow, not to mention the fact he had somehow come back.

All he wanted to do was rest and figure it out later. It was a problem for Future Danny.

Except when he woke up, something was wrong.

He felt Cold, Colder than he had ever been before. It was as if he had a chunk of pure Ice stuck in his Chest, the cold spreading across every part of his body. With a start he realized that his chest wasn't moving at all, either from the beating of his heart or the breaths he was supposed to be taking.

He wasn't breathing. His heart wasn't pumping. The Ice in his chest was the feeling of his heart not pumping, still and unnaturally cold. At that realization, he felt his Heart begin beating again.

He ran downstairs, hoping to get his parents help. He didn't know what was going on exactly, but they must be able to help him right?! They were the leading experts on Undead Biology, they must know how to help him!

When he reached the kitchen, he saw his parents and Jazz huddled together at the table, crying together for some reason.

"Mom! Dad! Jazz! Somethings wrong! I don't know what happened, but last night I-"

He stopped when he saw their faces. Their cheeks were tear-streaked, eyes bloodshot, but the thing he noticed first was the grief and absolutely confusion in their eyes. They were staring at him as if they had seen a Ghost, figuratively of course, and they seemed to he trying to connect the dots in their heads.

"Danny?" Jazz asked in a shaky voice. "Is that you?"

"Jazz?" He asked in return, "What do you mean, of course it's me?"

She looked hopeful for a moment, before his mom stood up.

"No." She said, her voice held a hard edge. "It's not."

Danny almost fell over when she said that. "W-what?" He asked, "What are you talking about Mo-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" She yelled. She gripped the Blaster in her hand tighter, aiming it at him. "I checked everything when we found Danny's body! He had no Pulse, no Brain Activity, and his Ecto Levels were far higher than normal! Danny is Dead! And you killed him!"

"What?!" Danny yelled in shock, "I didn't kill hi-I mean, I didn't kill me-I mean-What are you talking about!?"

This time his dad answered, getting up from the table himself. In his hand was another Blaster. "Danny's Ecto Levels could only have been that high if killed by something with a large amount of Ectoplasm, enough to leave such a mark. The Portal was open for hours last night before we found it and sealed it up, and that's when you got through isn't it!?"

His Dad leveled the Blaster to him.

"No! I'm not a Ghost, it's me! It's Danny!?" He pleaded, "Mom, I always baked you a cake on mother's day! Dad, I helped you clean up the lab the last time you blew it up! It's me!"

"Nice try." His mother said, "Die again, Ecto Scum."

That day, Danny ran away from home.

...

Ever since that day, Danny had been running as far as he could from Amity Park.

After he got out of the house, he tried to find any place he could hide as he figured everything out. His first try was Tucker, but his parents had anticipated that and beat him to the Punch. The same happened when he tried to go to Sam's, he barely escaped that situation alive(?).

At first he tried to stay in Amity, hoping he would eventually find a way to convince his parents of his true identity, so everything could go back to normal.

He abandoned that hope about a week later, when his parents got the local authorities on their side and issued a public service announcement stating he was a Murderer who killed their son, and to contact the Police if anybody saw him. The mindless Ghost they captured and presented on the Local News cemented the publics view on him.

So he ran from Amity.

The first few weeks on the Run were the worst. He wasn't used to surviving on the street, much less evading the Law Enforcement that seemed to keep finding him. He had to constantly stay on the move to keep away from the pursuit of his Parents, the Police, and the weird guys in white suits who had shown up once he passed the State Border.

His new Ghost Powers were the only thing that had let him get away most of those times. He could turn into a Full Ghost whenever he wanted, unlocking all of his powers for the time being, but also seemingly sending up a Beacon to whoever was looking for him. He found it was much easier to use their weakened versions in his Human Form.

As for his Undead-ness, he had mostly figured it out. His body was lying to him. He was Dead, but his Body was just pretending to be alive for his own sake. He didn't need to breath anymore, and his heart didn't need to pump, but they did because he felt that they needed to. He probably didn't even need to eat anymore.

The problem was that it couldn't keep it up when he was asleep. No matter what, every time he fell asleep his Body would die again, and when he woke up he would have to make it Live again.

One of the main reasons he kept getting caught recently was because well-meaning civilians would report to the Police that there was a Dead Teenager under a Bridge, or on a Park Bench, or on one memorable occasion in a Ditch. He would wake up in a Body Bag, escape, and be reported to his Pursuers.

At least his pattern of movement was untraceable so far.

Turns out, the Portal's opening had much more of an effect than his parents had anticipated. The Shockwave in the fabric of Reality when they punched a hole through it (and him), had caused dozens of Natural Portals to form across the Country, opening and closing in random places, soaking the area of Ectoplasm.

As an apparent Ghost, Danny was somehow drawn to these places. Whenever he got to one he felt rejuvenated, as if the stress of the past few days had never happened to him. He could only assume that he was Absorbing the Ectoplasm in the area to feed himself, based on a few of the things he remembered from his parents constant ramblings.

Whenever he would go to one of these places, he would find a bunch of Ghosts. Some were friendly, defying all of his expectations, while others were...less so.

They seemed to resent the fact that he was still half-alive, some simply jabbing insults at him, others straight up attacking him. It seemed that Life was a sore subject among those guys. Or maybe it was him stopping them whenever they attacked humans...that was probably more accurate.

Sometimes the Ghosts he would meet were in the middle of attacking humans to fulfill what they called their "Obsessions". He learned that all Undead, and basically all Immortal Beings, have Obsessions. They are their Sole Purpose in existence, a built in defense mechanism against insanity by giving them something to dedicate Eternity to.

He didn't know if he had an Obsession, but if he did he hoped it was easier to manage than theirs seemed to be. One of them was obsessed with attention, but got it by hypnotizing humans into adoring her. She chilled out after a while. Another loved the thrill of the Hunt, but only wanted rare game. He chased after Danny a lot in pursuit of his "One of a Kind Pelt".

He fought then off and saved people whenever he could, although sometimes it was risky. Many of them were older and more experienced than him, so he was forced to use his Ghost Form against some of them, sacrificing his hiding spot to save the people being terrorized.

He sort of enjoyed it. Whenever he helped people, saved them from danger, he felt better about his situation. As if he was making the best out of the horrible situation his life had turned into by helping as many people as he could. He always felt a bit more motivated to keep going every time he helped anybody.

Maybe that was his Obsession? Helping others? He didn't really think so, he was nowhere near altruistic enough to consider that a possibility. Maybe it was Space? He always felt that same relief when he would camp out away from the Cities. Eh, he'll probably never know.

This cycle of finding a new hiding spot, getting discovered, and running away again continued for a while. Years even.

Danny had Died at 14. He was now 17, and had been homeless for 3 years.

He hoped this next hiding spot would last a bit longer than the previous ones. This one felt different, the Ectoplasm he was wandering towards felt older than the other places he had gone. His previous hiding spots had always been the site of a recent Natural Portal, and the Ectoplasm in the atmosphere would feel Fresh and Wild.

But the Ectoplasm where he was going tasted Older, Stronger, more Set in Stone than the others had. Wherever he wad headed to next, it had been soaking in Ectoplasm for far longer than any other place he had ever been, even in Amity.

He walked up the the Sign at the side of the road, introducing the City to newcomers.

"Welcome to Gotham City" it said.

[lady-ashfade]

A Son For A Son

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Deamons Bastard!Reader x Yan!Team black. Pt.2

╰･ﾟ✧☽ first fic here.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen has given a order, and craving revenge you expect.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison, I just needed to make this.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DONT READ IF YOU WANNA BE SPOILED: reader does in fact kill aemond in this and idk if you are happy about it, I want his head to take to my queen.

“I want Aemond Targaryen.” she stood before the council covered in dirt and who knows what.

It had been two weeks since the letter about the death of Lucaerys had arrived and you all had been the worst for it. and ever since she searched and searched for a sign of truth, desperate to be wrong. that her sweet boy was alive. you knew he was dead and you wanted everyone to pay for taking luke. you wanted aemond targaryen to pay. you took anger out on the ones you could, or roamed the sky’s to get your mind off of things. you would not act without her orders.

The resemblance you shared to daemon was close and terrifying for your foes. just as you had the idea to fulfill her wishes, your father did too.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the sound of your voice made his shoulders fall and a smirk appear on his face, one you couldn’t see. a dark cloak draped over his shoulders and matched the same one across your frame. “but I have a better one.”

“No.” you glare at the back of his head. again denied something worth your talents.

“You can’t tell me what do to this time father.” standing your ground as his eyes turn around, a look he uses when he’s serious. and for him it was like looking into a mirror, you carved blood just like he did and loved getting to spill it. even for no reason at all.

“I have waited around for a task, and she has said she wants Aemond. I mourn the loss of my brother too, and you can not keep me from whatever it is that you think you’re protecting me from.”

Hundreds of men died at the end of your blade at night as you slip throughout the shadows. you were a slayer, a assassin who followed your own roles but loved coin and the game. a story to tell children to make them weep and fear the dark. so how could he still think you are not ready.

“I have let you do what you needed, patrol the blockade against my wishes. or fly alone when our enemies wait to make us weaker” he lectures, “and I will not let them take you.” for a moment you saw a regular father begging for his daughter to stay safe. you aren’t just a daughter now but a soldier in war.

“I would never let them take me,” you step closer and give him a smug look, “I am your daughter after all.”

Instead of going himself, daemon sends you, for the head of the copycat prince.

the castle gates are easy to slip passed with the help of a guard who shares your hatred for the hightowers. and many times, you slip into the keep without getting caught.

“Something told me you’d be here,” his eye glanced at you amused from the cough as his fingertips spin a coin. “It’s as if the gods made me stay here.” aemond unfolded his legs and leaned forward on his knees. many years you hated the way he spoke to you like a interest of his to be claimed like his bitch dragon.

“Then the gods agree you’ll die tonight.”

aemond waited for this moment to finally fight you. he wanted to win and keep you forever as a trophy, a wife who was like him and everyone feared without a doubt. he wasn’t a fool, you are a skilled killer and he needed to bring his all. and some skills stayed in the dark.

a slice in his chest, in his leg and cheek aren’t as bad as he thought when he had you pinned down onto the table. the cold feeling of metal as his hands wrapped around your throat was refreshing. you didn’t try and fight back as he took your breath because the fight was won as soon as it started.

And he should have known you couldn’t be this sloppy.

curling lips up into a devil’s smirk, looking into his eye he feels himself weakened and his grip loosen. the power of letting a man win and wiping all power from beneath their feet was riveting and a hobby. Aemond leaned back and placed his weight onto the couch while trying to keep composure. “You honestly think i wouldn’t have a plan? Make my own rules?” you raise a brow and rub the sore skin of your neck, inching closer while standing up yourself.

“Silent reaper is the name they whisper about me, come in quickly without notice. I always kill my enemies without them awake, but you,” you point and lean down as his eyes become bloodshot, “I want to feel the most pain. And I will enjoy it.” within a few minutes his body starts to leak its own blood. he was quickly taken to death of course, you couldn’t hear his pleads but you’ll satisfy with his death.

guards fall silent when they watch you walk through the halls they don’t even announce your name. white locks lace your fingers and the weight of his head was little and you look like your father with the proud eyes of what you did. the sounds of your footsteps cause the council to glance over but stay with shock. non of them expected to see that and much less out of no where. though, your father seemed pleased and chuckled at the sight.

“The head of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your Grace.” Walking past Jace you set the bloody head on the table as people gawk and flinch. “the poison was my idea, hope you don’t mind.” a second later you yawn of exhaustion and boredom. you look at rhaenrya as her eyes glossed with the revenge you took for her.

“If you’ll excuse me, the ride back was tiring and I wish to get back to my book.” bowing down you flash a “polite” smile and walk away to your chambers with pride and a hand rested on your blade. with everyone wondering what else you would do for the queen,

Your mother.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

I Want Better For You (part 3.5)

part 1 | Masterpost | Part 3

Tim sat on the edge of his bed in Titan’s Tower, his mind going like a hamster on a wheel, a mile a minute and getting nowhere. In his hands he held the note left for him by Red Hood! It was a serious security breach that he had gotten in here at all. Obviously Tim knew he was smart, he had been Robin before Tim after all, you couldn’t do that job without being smart as hell and strong as heck. But he had upgraded the security himself when he joined the team, no one should have been able to get into the tower, let alone into his room to leave the note.

At least it wasn’t a bad note? In fact it was… nice, it was a kind offer. They had to know that if he did this he would spy, he wouldn’t even be able to help it because he’d always had a detective's mind, yet still they offered. 

Of course there was always a possibility that it was a trap of some type but Tim really didn’t think it was. Jason had proved he could get into the Tower, if he wanted Tim dead or kidnapped he could have just done it.

He should talk to his team about this, he should talk to Bruce about this, but for the moment he just held the note. Robin had always been his hero, sure it was Dick he’d first recognized because of the Flying Grayson connection, but Jason had been His Robin. Tim had idolized Jason, and been completely devastated when he died. Ya he had become Robin to help Bruce, but it was to memorialize Jason as well.

He knew that Jason wasn’t the same as he’d been before his death, but… while he was dead Tim had gotten used to thinking of him like a brother. A part of him desperately wanted to take this note at face value, to forget all about the violence, and the crimes, and just take the olive branch and bond with his childhood hero. But he was going to be smart about this.

He was going to go, of course he was, but he needed to put safety measures in place and some sort of plan. Though he probably still wasn’t going to tell B about it, he was overprotective and would grill Tim for any bit of information he managed to gleen, and if he wanted any real info he would have to do a long con. Best he could do right now would be to have Superboy listen in, set up a code word, and have Impulse ready for an extraction if needed then… well he’d tell Batman when he needed to.

------------

It took about a week to talk Superboy into letting him go but it wasn’t exactly hard to set up as minimal of plans as he had, including wearing a hidden wire to record whatever happened. As long as it worked, Tim had heard tech had a habit of messing up around Hyena if he didn’t want them working. 

He didn’t bother thinking of an excuse, he didn’t think he needed one. Wanting to get to know them would be enough, especially if he was going to rely on them for anything in the future. 

So, feeling tense and keeping to the shadows he entered Crime Alley on a slow night with his friends behind him, figuratively speaking. He moved a bit deeper in, grappling up to the roof of a building, feeling a little lost and listless. He did know vaguely where to find these two, but Crime Alley wasn’t a small place, and now that he was in their territory he didn’t know where to go, it’s not like they knew where Hood and Hyena lived, or their base of operations. 

It seemed like he didn’t need to though, because while he was standing on the roof thinking he saw someone coming, leaping from one building to the other with reckless abandon. They weren’t even using a grapple as they free ran and made jumps Tim was pretty sure should have been impossible. Tim knew who it was before they were close enough to see detail because Hood still used a grapple, the only one who acted like that was Hyena.

Sure enough Hood’s lover skidded to a halt across the roof in front of Tim, grinning to the point he could see it a little past the muzzle he wore. He didn’t have any weapons out, not that that meant anything, half the time Hyena forgot to use the clawed brass knuckles he carried and fought with bare hands. Tim was tense, ready to fight or flee but Hyena was not, he seemed relaxed and didn’t approach, keeping his hands visible. 

“Hey there little birdy, what can I do for ya?” Hyena asked, he didn’t have a Gotham accent but it was a little hard to tell where exactly it was from.

“I got Red Hood’s note. I just wanted to talk, introduce myself properly and meet you before I decide to take you up on any of the offers.” Tim said honestly.

“Of course!” Hyena agreed, pulling his phone out of a hidden pocket on the inside of his cropped jacket. “I’ll text Hood, ask him to pick up some food for us and we can have a little rooftop picnic and chat for a bit. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Tim said, not sure why he was surprised by the offer.

“Any requests? The lifestyle sure builds up an appetite huh? And I certainly hope you’re still growing,” Hyena teased, cackling at Tim’s expression of indignation. Hyena wasn’t that much taller than him!

“Coffee,” He requested, finally relaxing a little.

“Hmm,” Hyena sounded judgmental as he tapped at his phone. “Fine, it’s your bone density that’s at stake not mine.” He pressed send, waited a moment and his phone dinged with a reply. “Great, he’ll be on his way soon, with picking up food he’ll probably be about a half hour,” Hyena said, pocketing his phone again and flopping down, as if the rooftop was a soft bed. “I know it’s probably Hood you really came to see but is there anything I can tell you in the meantime? Let’s stick to small talk though huh? I know how you bats and birds are, but I also know you’re wearing a wire, and I’m not interested in spilling my guts.” 

“Alright, ya that’s fair. Hood mentioned in the note that you know a lot about astronomy?” Tim mentioned, finally sitting down with his legs crossed as well.

“Oh ya, I was totally obsessed with it for most of my life, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid and learned everything I could about space and engineering,” Hyena confirmed casually.

“This is a long way from being an astronaut,” Tim pointed out.

“Ya, well, things don’t always go the way you plan you know? Sometimes you get kidnapped by mad scientists and experimented on to the point you go a little around the bend,” Hyena snickered. Tim wasn’t sure if he was being serious, or self referential, or not.

“Riiight, well, what are your favourite space facts then?” Tim asked, just to pass the time really. Hyena brightened immediately and was happy to start sharing a bunch of random facts. 

It ended up in a back and forth of fun facts, aerospace vs chemistry and both of them could go shot for shot when it came to engineering. Tim realized, a bit belatedly, that Hyena is way smarter than Tim had given him credit for. That was disconcerting but… if they ended up getting alone Tim thought he could have a lot of fun tinkering with him.

“Incoming,” Hood broke into their conversation, warning them before he landed on the roof so he wouldn’t startle them. “Hey there Timmy,” He said as he walked over to crouch next to Danny, handing him a few bags of batburger and a tray of drinks before taking off his helmet. He was wearing a domino underneath it but it wasn’t like Tim didn’t already know his identity. “Got your coffee, I bet if you took off that domino your eye bags would be nearly as dark as the mask. Never enough time to sleep between school, social life, and nightlife.” Jason said, taking the tray of drinks back from Hyena, who promptly started digging through the bag with his now free hands, and handed the coffee cup to Tim.

“If you drop out of school to play hero I will personally kick your ass,” Jason said pointing at Tim warningly. 

“Uhhh,” Tim sounded, shifting a little awkwardly because he couldn’t deny he had already thought about dropping out. He looked down and took a sip of the coffee, which wasn’t great, but hey. “Why do you care?”

“Neither Hyena or I got to finish school because we died before graduation,” Hood said simply, which was a punch in the gut, and new information about Hyena. “I want better for you.” 

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that.

Hyena finished rummaging through the bag with a little yip of delight and started distributing the food, handing Hood a bag and taking a box of chicken wings, a burger, and some fries for himself before handing off the rest to Tim. “Looks like Hood didn’t know what you wanted and bought half the store, whatever you don’t eat I’ll finish,” Hyena joked as Tim took the bag. “Shit I forgot my sauces,” Hyena grumbled, staring at his nuggets with a little pinch between his brows. 

“What sauce are you looking for?” Tim asked, looking through the bag.

“Sweet and sour,” Hyena said brightly and Tim found the sauce and tossed it to Hyena, who hummed happily and took off his mask to eat. He was completely barefaced now and Tim couldn’t help but stare a little just because of how casual he was being about this. “What?” Hyena asked, catching Tim staring. 

“Hey I know he’s cute but he’s taken,” Hood joked, slinging an arm around Hyena’s shoulders who cackled and leaned back against Jason.

“No!” Tim said, cursing his fair skin for showing his blush, not because Hood was right of course, he was just embarrassed! “I mean, that’s not what I was thinking, I’m just surprised you took off your mask,” He told Hyena.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before I’m sure. I’m sure you and the bats have already figured out my ‘civilian identity’ or whatever. It’s not like I have anything to protect really, I only have the mask and the outfit because I like the aesthetic.” Hyena said, gesturing down at himself. 

“Fair enough I guess…” Tim said before looking back at Hood. “How did you get into Titan’s Tower?”

“Trade secrets Timmy, I’d rather talk about you. How’s school? You got a girlfriend or boyfriend?” Jason asked with a shit eating grin as Tim sputtered indignantly and then took a big bite of his burger to avoid having to answer such an invasive question! Especially with Superboy definitely listening in.

[reiderwriter]

Dirty Cops

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: With a dirty cop killing women in the BDSM community running loose you and Spencer have to devise an equally dirty plan to catch him in the act.

Warnings: Kintober Day 22 - S&M, BDSM themes, public sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, interrupted sex (both of them are cockblocked by the job).

A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry for the delay. This is the fic that has been beating my ass for about two weeks now. I fear I put too much detail into the case, and now I'm 6k words deep into a part one of a fic that should've been a 3k standalone.... oops! I hope you enjoy~

You sat in your office hands on your forehead as you desperately searched for the solution to your problems. 12 women, 12 homicides that VICAP had just spotted were easily similar. All in the same jurisdiction, and yet no connections made by their police force.

Something was going on in Tampa, and you needed to get to the bottom of it before another person died. 

You supposed it didn't really help that some of the women had died in some pretty unorthodox ways. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, evidence of rope burns, and having been held hostage but not for long. Things your team was familiar with, but local detectives usually couldn't stomach.

As the BAU's brand new liaison officer, you got the job of convincing the local law enforcement to invite you in. They certainly weren't making it easy for you. 

"Listen, I'm telling you there's something here, sir, if you'd just check the case files. We're only trying to help."

"You're trying to stick your nose in my departments business because you think your fancy FBI agents can handle my cases better than me." 

"Sir, with all due respect -" 

"Fine, you think you can come find whoever whacked these street whores you come and do it." You took in a sharp breath and paused, trying to make sure if you were hearing him correctly. 

"What do you mean by whores, Captain? Choose your words very carefully." The warning was a bonus, knowing your voice had already done such a 180 he was probably regretting his previous word choices. As far as you knew none of the victims were wex workers. They mainly had office jobs or were even stay ah hone mom's.

"Each and every one of these women were jezebel's. Cheating, doing dirty things while showing their faces in church. They attended a certain establishment, not a Christian one, if you understand what I'm telling you, Miss." 

"It's Agent, actually, and if you ever leave these details out of a case file ever again, I'll make sure to have your badge pinned up on my wall like a hunting trophy. Are we clear, Captain?" He stuttered out a yes, but you cut him off quickly. 

"My team and I will arrive later today. Expect us for lunch." You said, slamming the receiver down and finally releasing a huff of breath you'd been saying for emergencies. 

A whistle from the door finally draws your attention after a few minutes. 

"Okay, Y/N," JJ clapped, looking impressed. "Who pissed you off?" 

"Just the Captain at the precinct who just very politely invited us to consult on our next case." You threw the file in her direction as she set down the coffee she'd bought you, picking it up to peruse it. "Where's Hotch? I need to tell him we've got to go now before they change their minds." 

"You know you want to say it," she teased as you began walking out of the office to find your elusive boss. 

"Ha. Sure. Wheels up in 30, Jennifer." She raised her coffee in a salute to you as you finally took off, getting ready to go to war against an unhelpful police precinct. 

–X– 

With all the time you don't have, you end up briefing the team on the jet. You have to stand and grab the edge of the table as you try not to pace up and down the aisle. 

"Twelve victims, all women between the ages of 20 to 28. He's crossing race lines, so I don't think they're placeholders." In all honesty, this case had pissed you off. 

Twelve dead women and no one seemed to care until you phoned the department up yourself when VICAP flagged it all with you. Half of the cases had been closed for lack of evidence, and the other half so poorly investigated that you knew it was only a matter of time before they got boxed up and shelved too. 

"The general public in Zephyrhills doesn't even know they have a serial killer. No one is being told to exert caution. There's no local press on this either." 

"It says that these women were all killed, but there's no viable DNA they could pick up?" Morgan asks, looking up at you. 

"That's right, no DNA evidence can be lifted, but spermicide was found on three of the victims." 

"So our unsub was wearing a condom. He came prepared, and we were dealing with a serial rapist who has bridged into murdering his victims." 

"There was no spermicide found on the other nine victims?" Emily looks up at you from her place at the small table. 

"No. Rape test kits weren't run on any of the other victims because, quote: 'it was pretty obvious what had happened.' The precinct waited too long to collect the DNA evidence  and now we don't have enough to locate, let alone prosecute an unsub based on DNA."

The whole team shared in your stressed look then, sending you matching sympathetic glances as they suddenly understood the herculean task you'd taken on trying to convince the locals to invite you in. 

Not noticing the awkward silence that fell on the group, Spencer spoke up quickly from his place, standing beside you. 

"You know, Zephyrhills is only about an hour away from Tampa. Tampa is the number one hook up spot in the US. It's residents boast on average 14 orgasms a month instead of the nationwide average of 12.5." He seemed pleased with the knowledge he'd just let everyone in on, as you looked back on him.

"Right. So our guy is trying to get his rocks off to out gun the rest of the country. Thanks, Spencer." 

"It's relevant. It's says in the casefile here that three of our victims were last spotted on the highway making their way to Tampa, but then their bodies were found dumped in Zephyrhills. What if he's following them?"

"Spencer has a point, but if he's following them, what gets them to turn around? The cars were found abandoned in Zephyrhills, too, none of these women made it to Tampa." Hotch adds, and you make eye contact with him as your next thought comes to you. 

"What could get someone to stop on a highway?" You ask, the question so simple, every single one of them knew the answer before you'd even finished asking.

"A cop." JJ filled in, and you all sat silently as you realised how dangerous this next case could truly be. 

"We're about an hour out from arrival, everyone get some rest for now, I'm going to make a call to the nearest FBI Field Office, see if any of this is on their radar."

You slunked back to your seat at the back of the jet and sat down again, trying to get comfy but ending up just shifting multiple times in your seat.

Spencer joined you, sitting beside you, so close you could feel his eyes on you as your leg began to bounce. He put his hand over it and, with a strong hand, stilled the movement. 

"Y/N, you did a good job connecting these cases." His voice was meek and calming, and you'd generally very much appreciate it if his hand weren't sending your body through some serious loops right then. 

Your leg was on fire where he was touching you, his hand hot even through the fabric of your clothes. But when he pulled the hand away, watching your legs for any further tremors, you felt the need to snatch it back and replace it on your leg, certain that it would sooth the burning once more. 

You snapped yourself out of it quickly. If you were thinking this way about Spencer of all people, then you really needed to get laid. 

"Tampa's population consists of 43% singles, you know. Good statistics for getting laid." You twisted your head around to meet his eyes again.

"Tell me I didn't say that outloud." But his small smile dashed your hopes as you realised you just admitted to feeling incredibly horny because of his hand on your knee. 

"If it's any consolation, I'm definitely the only one who heard it." His hand fell back to your thigh, and you twitched as it did, but you didn't move him. 

"Fucking floridians and their goddamn 14 orgams a month," you muttered under your breath, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention to you now, seeing as how he'd opened up a book to hold in one hand. 

"Lucky if I get even one and Florida man has 14 in him." You continue mumbling as you try to get cosy, closing your eyes and moving your head to find a comfortable position. 

“You definitely said that one out loud.” He laughed, and you threw up your middle finger while letting your head fall back and your body take the rest it needed. 

Without opening your eyes, you decided you needed the last word, a phenomenon you often found occurring in Spencer’s presence. 

“A gentleman would pretend to not have heard that, Spencer.”

“I’m not a gentleman.” Annoyance prickled you at his reply, but you were too tired to say anything more as you caught up with the sleep that had been evading you for weeks. 

–X–

Your landing in Florida comes almost too soon, and Hotch delegates tasks before you’ve even had the chance to properly get your feet beneath you after so long in the sky. 

This case was becoming more of a mindfield with each of the pieces of information you’d received. Upon getting off of his call with the FBI Field Office closest to Zephryhills, Hotch had informed the team about an ongoing investigation into the police captain’s wife, whose pseudo-Christian church group were spewing vitriol about damn near every group you could think of. 

“Religious discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia and some pretty screwed up views of basically everything else, too.” Penelope had informed the group, pulling up the files that had been sent to her.

“It seems their most recent project is… Oh, how relevant. An adult establishment just opened up on the outskirts of Tampa, right on the highway that connects it to Zephyrhills. And from the boasts of the club owner on social media, it seems he’s telling anyone who listens that he’s not going to get shut down because the police are his main clientele.” 

She sent through links to some of the posts to your iPads, and you angled the thing towards Spencer so he could take in the new information as well. 

“Could we be looking at a religious motive to the murders? You said that the police captain called these women Jezebels. The name is biblical, she was a Queen who worshipped a false god and was defenestrated because of it, but over time, the uncapitalised jezebel, as you know, tended to refer to women with loose morals.”

“The motives could still be religious, but these women were raped. It says in the case files that Mrs. James’s church group is solely comprised of women, mostly the wives of the officers in the police force.” 

Again, everything was leading you back to this stupid police precinct. You grimmaced as you realised that the next few weeks were going to be spent on the edge watching your back. 

“Y/N, Reid, I want you both with me at the precinct when we land. Morgan, JJ, go to the church and interview some of the ladies there, see if you can’t push some buttons. Emily, Rossi, some of the family’s of the victims got in touch with the field office to request inquiries, go anf find out whatever you can about the last known whereabouts of these women.” 

Now bracing yourself, you set your face in a neutral expression and let Spencer hold the door open for you as you walked into the station. 

“Hello, we’re the agents from the FBI. Where can we find your captain?” You ask the receptionist at the chatting to her desk, but just as you finish your inquiry, another officer cuts you off, stepping half in front of you and demanding some files from the woman. 

She stands awkwardly, sending you an apologetic glance as she scurries off to go and complete whatever busy work he’s just given her as you quietly seeth at his back. 

The officer turns around to you and grins, sending you a smile as he walks off, apparently pleased with himself for foiling your attempts to find his boss. 

“Y/N, keep a cool head. The captain’s office seems to be just ahead, I’m going to go and see if he’s there, smooth out some of the issues they seem to be having over here with our presence.” You nod and stay back with Spencer, who takes a quick seat behind you. 

You don’t sit, though, too on edge and pissed off to get comfortable now. 

The officers seem to ignore the two of you, bustling around you with no sense of shame, but you can tell they're watching you, hearing the low murmur of whispers. 

When one of them decides to out their hands on you, though, you've decided you've had enough.

"Sorry, little lady, I need to get through. Important police business." He practically Leeds down at you as his hands grab your waist, meaning to move you aside to her you out of his path. 

You don't give him the chance, grabbing his hands from your hips and twisting them behind his back quickly, shoving him face first into the nearest desk. 

"Fuck, you little bitch. Come and control your partner, man." He struggles in your grasp, signalling to Spencer. 

You grin as Spencer doesn't even look up at him, having pulled out a copy of War and Peace and settling nicely in his seat. You could tell he was on edge though, had seen the slight way his body tensed when you'd first been touched, and knew that if you'd needed it, he'd be there backing you up in a second. 

"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He finally said, still not looking up from his book. 

"Yes, get this bitch off of me." 

"If you ask her nicely, I'm sure Agent Y/N would release you. As for me, I'm certainly not making her do anything she doesn't want to." He grinned as he said it, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

"Maybe if you told some of these other agents here to stop looking at her likes, she's a hunk of meat and greeted her respectfully instead of calling her… little lady, was it? Maybe then she'd be more generous." The man grumbled beneath you again, but before you could actually force his hand, Hotch and the Captain were exiting his office, obviously alerted by the crashing sound you'd made. 

"Reid, Y/N, that's enough." Hotch signalled, and you complied, letting the man go and stepping back to Reid's side. He'd stood now, squaring his shoulders and making use of his quite intimidating height. You must seem tense, though, because the second you settle next to him, he puts a hand on your lower back, and you're surprised at how calm you instantly become. 

Earlier, his touch had been fire and ice, and now it was relaxing you beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with your body recently? 

"Thank you, sir," the officer said, straightening, dusting off his uniform as he levelled a glare at both you and Spencer. "I was beginning to think the FBI was just a bunch of sissy's and menstruators-" 

"Cut the crap." Hotch barked out, and even you were startled by the sound. "Captain, if you or any member of your precinct says anything further about any member of my team, or god forbid puts a hand on them, I'll personally make sure this office is charged with conspiracy to murder for not investigating these deaths and aggravated assault of a federal officer. Do I make myself clear?" 

The man seemed displeased at having his badge threatened for a second time in 24 hours, but nodded, dismissed the other officer, and finally shut up. 

He has the female receptionist from earlier show you to the room you'd be using for your investigation for the next few weeks. 

After  making sure the room is secure, you place a call to Penelope and the others trying to gauge if they'd found any further leads. 

"Some of the family members know exactly where they were going that night. One of them had a husband, said he was going with her, that they drove in separate cars because it was part of the thrill of it all." Emily's voice sounded tense and frustrated, and you could only sympathise silently before jumping in to ask her more questions.

"I thought they said it was an adult establishment? Does that not mean strip club?" You asked, perplexed at why the married couple would be going together. 

"No, from what I can tell, it seems these women were members of the BDSM community, and that place… is somewhere they can practice." 

"So even if we do somehow get another victim, any DNA test could be questionable evidence because they all left to have consensual sex." You sighed out and ran a stressed hand through your hair.

On your call with JJ and Morgan, you got much of the same. 

"Oh, they're angry, alright. About the immigrants and the drug dealers, the homosexuals, and the jezebels. Seems they're working hard to get the club closed not just because it's a house of sin but also because the man who owns it might be an illegal immigrant."

"How quaint and Christian of them."

"Yep, and get this, the club's official title? Women for the Grace of God. There were no men in this group, Y/N. We're not going to find our unsub here." 

Hanging up, you let your head hang, the fatigue of the case really kicking your ass. 

"Spencer, draw the blinds, Y/N, lock the doors." Hotch ordered, and you listened, quickly making sure that no one was even close to the door. Returning to your seat, you noted the tense set of your boss's jaw and decided that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good. 

"Our unsub is in this precinct, which means we're not safe. But it also puts us in a unique position. They don't know we suspect them yet. We can force the unsubs hand." 

You straightened in your chair, listening closer. 

"You want to bait them out?" Spencer asked from his place beside you. 

"I want you two to bait them out. You already got under a few of the officers' skin, push a few more buttons, and we could get our unsub to slip up." 

"And how are we supposed to do that?" You asked, heart thumping in anticipation. You thought you already knew, but you needed to hear the words from his mouth to be sure. 

"They're going after women in the BDSM lifestyle. Let's convince them that the two of you are also similarly involved." 

He turned and left you with the decision then, leaving you and Spencer in the small room alone. 

Your palms were sweaty, and you refused eye contact for a few minutes before he finally cracked and gave in first.

"It'd work." He whispered, suddenly closer than you remembered. 

"What?" 

"It would work. Whoever this guy is, he's getting off on dominating these women, seeing another man that he deems physically inferior dominating a woman who's already kicked an officers ass… that's enough to get him to crumble, slip up."

"So I'm supposed to just bend over and take it?"

"Bend over, yes, but I usually prefer women to be a bit bratty." 

"What?" You found yourself blinking up at his face, even as the door swung open again, another officer walking into the small room you'd been left in. 

You stepped away from Reid slightly, putting a more appropriate distance between the two of you before the man started talking. 

"Well hello, I heard we had some feds in the office, thought I'd come introduce myself, but I didn't hear we had such a beautiful woman here, too. She a witness?" He directed the question to Spencer, but his leering eyes never left your body, trailing down slowly and disgustingly as you tried not to shudder under his gaze. 

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, this is my partner, Agent Y/N. How can we help you?"

"Oh, I'm all set on my medicals, doc. You can't help me. Maybe she can if you let me take her out for a test drive?" Your blood boiled as he said those words, and you were about to send a cutting reply back to the man, when Spencer sat back down in his seat, snaking an arm around your waist to take you with him.

"Sorry, I don't lend out my private property." Stunned, you tried to act naturally about your new position, but his hand on your thigh slashes your brain capacity down by half, the only thought in your head running through Spencer Reid's possible sexual preferences. 

"Oh, I see how it is. She's a slut, just not that kind. Okay, I'll bite, what's this one into? Choking, spanking? Careful, don't go too far or you'll be prime suspect number one for our perp." 

"What are you insinuating, officer?"

"That these sluts you're asking about got in over their heads. Some women like it rough, practically beg for it. Poor guy just did what they were asking." Biting your tongue, you let the man keep digging his own hole, as Spencer kept him talking.

"Actually, contrary to popular opinion, in most sado-masochistic relationships, the submissive partner is the one in control. They have power to stop whatever role play is going on in the scene through safe words and actions, and the dominant role is more of a protective role, requiring a deep level of commitment and care for their sub." As he said it, he turned your face to his, hooking a finger under your chin and then stroking your face as you fell further into his body. 

You almost forgot the other officer was there until you heard his grumbled reply, turning your head slightly to whisper in Reid's ear. 

"Long shot, Doc." With that, you climbed from his lap, turning back to the other officer with a grin. 

"Sorry, was there anything professional we could help you with? Or would you like to go and deal with your little problem alone in the men's bathroom now?" He turned on his heels and exited swiftly, face red with rage at your insinuations. 

"Okay. I'll admit, it's going to work. But we're going to need to set up some bait and deliver the profile to them to make sure we have each and every one of their attentions."

"I'll notify, Hotch." 

"Spencer, wait." He stopped at the door and turned back to listen to you. "Earlier when you said… when you mentioned that you'd prefer…" You tried to ask the question  but it seemed the question just wasn't going to form on your lips  so you simply let out a small frustrated humph and let him figure out the rest. 

"Y/N, I… I don't know how to answer that question and still act professionally around you."

He left the room shortly after, and you couldn't help but feel disappointed at the distance suddenly kept between the two of you. You were beginning to become much too distracted by Spencer Reid.

–X– 

"Let's have another rundown again, just so we're all clear on the play by play on this." Morgan said as you and Spencer were wired up, ready for your operation. 

It wasn't exactly undercover, but it wasn't quite straight police work either, but here you were. After giving the profile earlier, you'd noted that three of the officers had seemed a little bit fidgety under all the new information they were getting, all three of them matching your profile. 

Unluckily for you, they just happened to be the Captain in charge of the precinct, Detective Handsy from your first trip into the office, and Detective Dumbass, who'd asked you and Spencer all about BDSM earlier that day. 

Penelope had filled you in on each of their backgrounds. The Captain was second generation police force, but court of public opinion had ruled that his father wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, a report corroborated by his mother's multiple accidents and trips to the ER. Detective Handsy had a misdemeanour sex crime expunged from his juvenile record for masturbating in public - on the unconscious girl who sat next to him on the bus.

Detective Dumbass seemed to be the police contact for all the local prostitutes. He'd busted at least thirty in three months, and each of them had reportedly tried to turn him in as the John who'd paid for their services. 

"Run through it again." Morgan brought you down to earth as JJ finished attaching the wire under your clothing, handing you the small in ear so you could hear updates from the team. 

"We walk into the bar, get a little too close for comfort than they'd like, then ask the bartender where we can have some fun around here. She's been prepped to give us the answer we want, and we set out on the highway where Rossi and Hotch are waiting in unmarked cars to give us an escort until our unsub takes the bait and tries to pull us over." 

"Good, now, Spencer, do I have to show you where to put your hands, or do you think you've read enough to figure out how to push the right buttons?" From the grin on his face, it was evident he was enjoy pushing the younger man's buttons  but you could tell he wasn't doing it maliciously. The two of you were both tense and on edge, and you needed that waylaid somehow. 

"Trust me, Morgan, I think he knows where his fingers should go." You said before grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him out of the vehicle, not letting him go until you were right by the door of the bar. 

You didn't really let him go either, it's more like he caught up to you and moved his hand from yours to your ass instead, pulling you closer into his body as you made to move inside the bar. 

He hesitated a moment outside, though.

"Y/N, we haven't talked about boundaries yet. I'm going to have to touch you in there and-"

"You have my permission. For anything." Your words come faster than you expect, but they're there, filling the silence of the night quickly. 

"Anything?" He asks, a small play lighting up his lips as he pulls you in closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, and you almost take back your words until he lowers his head. Your lips are barely an inch apart and getting slowly closer as you angle your head up towards him, when the bar doors swing open and he turns and pulls you inside instead. 

You recover quickly, trying to focus on the twelve women who need to find justice rather than the many things you suddenly want Spencer Reid to be doing to you. 

You slide into a booth at the edge of the bar  but you'd canvassed the place earlier, knowing that while it appeared to be a quiet corner, every other table had a clear view of your actions in the corner. 

Surely enough  you felt a few pairs of eyes on you as you sat down, a little closer for comfort than you expected.

"Well, Penelope's sources were correct. It seems like every cop in town is here tonight." You said, whispering the words into Spencer's neck, just above where his own wire was placed, making sure the words were heard by both him and the members of your team left in the surveillance van. 

"Show time," he said, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips as you stood. He gave your ass a quick slap as you made to walk towards the bar, and you sent him back a wink as you walked to order your drinks. 

Ordering them quickly, you took a simple scan of the room, noting that all three of your suspects were social butterflies tonight. They all sat on different tables, but each had at least another man with him, and every single one of them was looking at you presitorially. 

Returning to your seat with the drinks, you never felt their gazes leave you. 

"Certainly caught their attention. What now?" You asked hesitantly, sliding up against Spencer’s body again. 

"Now we give them a show." He said, snaking a hand between your legs and forcing them apart gently. You'd changed into a shorter skirt and smaller top before coming back out, needing to look the part of the slut they'd already deemed you. 

You smiled up at Spencer as he stoked your thigh suggestively, but he never moved it further up. 

"Spencer, kiss me." You said, eyelids heavy as you begged the man to take you further than touching. 

"Why?" He asked softly in your ear.

"Because a few of our suspects are getting restless, and I want to see if we can tip some of them over the edge. Obviously you're smarter than trying to stick your hand up my skirt in public surrounded by a group of cops who would happily stick you in a cell for the night for public indecency, so you're just going to have to stick your tongue down my throat." 

"Here I was thinking maybe you wanted it," he grumbled but complied anyway, grabbing the back of your head with his free hand and pulling you towards him. The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle the way his caresses were. It was hot and it was demanding, and when he pulled away after a minute and your lips followed his desperate for more  he grabbed your hair and pulled you backwards, baring your neck to him easily as he moved his lips down slightly. 

Opening your eyes then, you again surveyed the bar, noting that the Captain and his friends were leaving, sending a stink eyed glare in your direction as they threw down their cups and left. 

"Morgan, get eyes on the Captain. Make sure he goes home and stays there," you breathe out quietly, waiting to hear the affirmative in your ear as Spencer kept his head buried at your neck. 

In another second, he was off you, taking a swig only his drink as he smoothed your hair down again. You do your best to ignore the history pooling between your legs and the haze clouding up your brain as you stare at him swallow the drink, watching a small stream of the soda you'd ordered him instead run down his chin. 

You watched it fall and, in a moment of thoughtlessness, pressed forward to lap it up from his neck. He'd spent time marking you. What harm could this do now? 

However you rationalised it, you knew it was just an impulse, one greatly rewarded by his hands pulling your hips over his and a growl in your ears. 

"Anything?" Was the only thing he said, and you pulled away to look into his eyes again before he pulled you in for another kiss. 

"Sorry to interrupt, love bunnies, but we've had a change of plan. Two of our suspects are out, and they've bailed and been safely and discreetly escorted home by FBI agents from the field office. Hotch and Rossi are on the way back. He thinks we can nail him in there and get him to act out." 

Pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper your reply to Morgan into Spencer's mic, you can barely tear your eyes away from the man. 

"What do you want us to do?" 

"Men's bathroom is free. Hotch thinks if we make it look like you're doing something less than holy in there that it could force his hand. Especially because he's shown voyeuristic tendencies in the past."

"Shit. Detective Dumbass?" 

"Only one left. And his name is Dunbar. You'd do well to remember that in the paperwork."

Pulling yourself up and out of Spencer's lap, you took a swig of your drink again as you stood. 

"Follow me in three minutes." He grabs you by your wrist and turns you back around to him again, though before you can leave.

"Y/N, we're going to get this guy. After we do, I think we should talk." Instead of answering him, you pressed another lingering kiss to his lips and moved out again, heading directly to the dark corridor where the bathrooms were. 

You slipped into the men's easily enough, thankful that it was empty. It was a single stall, and when you heard the knock on the door two minutes later, you were suddenly thankful that it was, because it meant that you could lock the door behind him and not risk anyone else coming in while you baited your unsub.

Spencer placed a hand to his lips as soon as he made it through the door, pulling out his phone to type out a message to you without speaking. 

"Followed me. Think he's listening outside." 

You pulled your own out to answer him.

"Let's give him a show then."

The both of you discarded your phones on the countertop of the bathroom and suddenly collided again, as if you were two magnets who could no longer resist the pull. 

Your lips fought hungrily, and now you didn't pull back your voice  letting all the moans of pleasure fall from your mouth and fill the bathroom.

His hands were on you in an instant, pushing you back against the door, letting the creep behind the wall hear as much as possible as his hips found yours and you started grinding against him like your life depended on it. 

You could no longer tell what you were doing for the case, and what you were doing out of the simple desire to do so, wrapped up in all of the pleasure he was giving you in that minute. And that was before he started talking. 

"You like that, whore? You like feeling my hands on you out here in this dirty bathroom." You clenched around nothing, even as his hands trailed lower, reaching the top of your skirt just as you replied. 

"Yes, I like that, Daddy. Please touch me more." 

You crashed together again, even as Spencer's hand fell inside your skirt and panties suddenly reaching for your clit. You forgot everything. The bathroom, the unsub, the wire you were wearing. When his hands were on you your only thoughts were him. 

You gasped in delight as he began rubbing you, moaning out heartily, not bothering to restrain your voice. Even if there was not a murderer on the other side of the door, you'd have wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel. 

"Kneel," he says, and you listen, getting down to the dirty floor for him and looking up at him innocently.

"Now what, sir?" You ask, teasing him with a smile. He gives your face a light slap in reply, but the sound is sharp, and you can hear some movement outside. You don't get to think about it for too long, however, as he suddenly removes his cock from his pants. 

"Suck" is all the instruction you need before you're taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around him. 

After the entire night of teasing, you don't have to be told twice. You take him down your throat until you're gagging, but he puts his hands on your head and pushes you further anyway. 

"That's it, baby, such a nice little slut just for me." He holds your hair as he begins fucking your face, softly whispering insults into the quiet bathroom. 

"Perfect little slut, letting me do this here. For anyone to see and hear how much you like my dick down your throat. I should unlock this door, show everyone how nicely you take my cock."

You moan around him, desperately gripping his thigh as you struggle to breathe. He finally pulls out, pulling you up by your hair until you're face to face with him again, saliva dripping from your mouth. 

"Is that how you like it?" He asks, and you nod fervently.

"Yes, sir. Please fuck me now, I've been such a good little girl." 

He turns you and presses you against the door again. As you turn your ear to it, you can hear some pacing outside of it as he lifts up your skirt.

You were ready to feel this perfect bliss, right up to the moment Morgan decided to remind you of the task at hand. 

"Hotch is here. We've got him cornered. Great acting, guys. We're thinking if Y/N exits the bathroom now, we can catch him trying to carry her off." 

His hands stilled on you, and you both stared guiltily into each other's eyes. You kept your sounds up, definitely acting now, feeling as though you'd just been doused in ice-cold water.

Footsteps retreating down the hall had you suddenly nodding in response to each other, faking your orgasm with one last large gasp followed by a few minutes of silence and you straightened your clothes ready to bait the unsub once again. He tucks himself into his pants, and you loudly discuss your plans for separate exits. 

"I'll meet you back at the table in five." He says, and with another lingering look, you're out the door and alone in the dark corridor, feeling empty and needy.

It was time to catch a killer.

[haveihitanerve]

Dad How Do I but with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce who teaches life advice- showing kids how to tie a tie, how to tie their shoes, braid their hair, teaching young adults to do taxes, to surf, the best lawyers to hire when in trouble, how to avoid scams, he educates the less fortunate on the best places to get free food, where to go in Wayne Enterprises for a hot shower and some toiletries, how to eat at formal functions so the higher elite have one less thing to criticize them on. He teaches people how to do card tricks and make your niece laugh by pulling out a quarter from behind her ear, teaches moms how to rock their baby to sleep properly, teaches teens to do front flips and cartwheels and calculus, educates them on how to write job applications and two weeks notice letters. He teaches people to sew, to cook(alfred helps) to assemble an IKEA shelf, how to work a lawn mower, and all sorts of different things. And when his son dies… Bruce uses his account to share his grief, his story, shares everything about Jason, what a delight he was, how awesome he was, how much he loved to read and school… and then one day, he gets Batman to join a video. And the hero is stiff and everyone can see the exhaustion, the anger and sadness in his joints, his movements, radiating off him. But he sits down heavily into the chair Bruce Wayne had previously vacated… and begins to speak. He tells the story of Robin, his young child sidekick, who just like Jason Wayne, was murdered by the Joker. He tells everyone how his little boy tried to save Jason Todd, and how they both perished in the aftermath. He tells people about his grief, his anger, and why Batman is suddenly harsher and hurts more. “Because I hurt more.” he confesses quietly, and the people finally get to meet the man behind the mask (figuratively) and truly get to see who their hero really is. The account’s popularity skyrockets, and soon Batman is a lot more common to be seen, teaching people how to defend themselves and handle the Batarangs he knows they collect after he fights. Nightwing shows up too sometimes, teaching more elegant flips and tricks and they demonstrate their workout together, and a few months later, Batman shyly introduces his new Robin, same messy black hair as the one before, but slightly smaller, and theres something… more behind those lenses in his mask. But the kid is soon a fan favorite, making sarcastic comments and countering Nightwings witty remarks, and the people get to see a new side of Batman, get to watch as he rolls his eyes at them, as he uses them to teach people how to disguise themselves, ways to use clothes to stem blood, tie tourniquets. 

Then Red Hood returns. And a kid in Crime Alley catches him cursing at his jacket because a button fell off and he cant get it back on. “Um! Mr. Red Hood sir?” the kid pipes anxiously. Red Hood turns to him, angry, but the kid doesn't back down and just goes “You should watch ‘Mr. Wayne How Do I: Sewing’ it'll help.” and then he scampers off. And Jason is pissed and even more angry because of course while he was dead Bruce decides to become a father to everyone in Gotham. But he watches the video. And it helps. And… well, its one of the older videos. And Jason finds another old video. The one about… the one about his death. It shouldn't make his anger lessen, shouldn't make him cry, shouldn't bring him to Bruce’s doorstep where he reveals himself and they hug and cry and catch up and cry some more… but it does. 

Gothamites are a little surprised when their local Crime Lord appears on the channel, standing right next to Batman. Surprised, but pleased. Because Batman looks happy in a way he hasn't in a long time and well… Red Hood watched out for them too. And now their two protectors are working together.

[presleyluvschris]

Join The Dream

alive!luke patterson x girlbestfriend!reader

a/n: not requested, back after 4 months!

desc luke didnt know you could sing after years of being your best friend

wc - 1.8k

warnings slight cursing, fluff, grammar, not proof read

the door krept open as you got home from school, tossing your grey messy laced converse off of your ankles and sludging your backpack off one of your shoulders and onto the floor.

it was 4:09 pm, you had nothing to do besides an english paper. but that could be done later.

you walk across the kitchen to sit on top of the counter, your nike women's dry-fit socks dangling as you thought about something, anything to do.

reggie and alex were out making flyers for their upcoming band gig on friday, while your best friend luke was probably somewhere in your guest house messing with your dads old music equipment and speakers you had gotten out of some dusty boxes for him a few weeks ago.

what was there to do?

you make a raspberry with your lips.

laundry...done. homework..ish, done. rooms clean...dad didn't get home until 10...

you stare at your mom's piano in the crevice of a large indent in a wall as you hear the air conditioner buzz softly.

the house was dead silent. no one was home.

for some reason, your hands begin to shake and your throat closes up staring at the white keys and grand black figure just sitting feet away, almost feeling like an old friend waiting for you to come back to it again.

after years.

this was the longest you had ever beared to look at it before.

the blank truth was you had completely disregarded the thought of ever playing any musical instrument ever again after your mom had died of cancer four years ago.

especially the piano. especially singing.

it was all the things you and your mom had cherished with each other. everytime you tried to even look at it. all that could replay in the back of your mind was your five-year-old self playing and singing along to "i love you baby", with your mother and you giggling with her.

what was so wrong about it? that you couldn't have that same feeling anymore? you didn't know.

it just hurt. all of it did.

over the years you had become slightly jealous of luke, reggie, and alex for being able to enjoy music like it was a second nature. maybe thats because it used to be yours, too, and your love for music had been taken away. and you felt like you could never get it back.

luke never knew about your passion for music. neither did alex, or reggie. sure, luke had watched you play with your mom as a kid but he never knew that you had the same thriving passion of music that made you feel alive like he did also.

everytime he tried to get you to sing along to one of the songs he had wrote with reggie you just shrugged it off, letting them sing.

because when your mom died, music died too.

in fact, luke had never heard you sing before. not even in the car, the shower, nothing.

but would this be what your mother had wanted? never even singing on the radio just because of memories?

if you were honest, you hadn't been the same person when you gave up music. If you were even more honest, you felt a hole without it.

you decided to get off the counter and slowly creep over to just....look.

not play, of course, no.

just...looking.

just...sitting down at your mom's favorite stool..

just..looking at the keys..

just..feeling them..

breathing...

you flinch when you accidentally hit a note with your finger.

your heart immediately starts pumping and you feel your stomach sink.

technically, you did just...play.

so, technically, accidentally, you could just play another...

on purpose, this time, you press a note, taking in the sound of a piano again like it was something completely new.

again, maybe? just once.

you start to play a few chords, trying to dig back in your brain four years.

you remember of a song called "forever", written by you. when you were 14. a month before your mom passed.

after playing the chords a few times, it comes flooding back to you like a sudden tidal wave.

you start playing them in order, now, and start singing your lyrics.

tears fall down your cheeks and onto the keys as you play the whole song through, singing the chorus, the verse..

you lean back slightly, holding your hands to your chest with a sniffle.

you wipe your eyes, but then jump at the sudden touch of a hand on your shoulder.

you whip your head around, quickly backing away from the stool.

"what the hell!" you gasp, but then realize who it was.

it was luke standing in front of you, now. his expression completely shocked.

it was silent, the only sounds was you trying to catch your breath.

his mouth was practically on the floor.

"y/n l/n."

you swallow, "yeah."

"what the fu-"

you cut him off, and play dumb, "what? i was just-"

you turn your head slightly to look at the piano behind you and then back to him.

"i was just like, messing around, i dunno, it was like- something i came up with..like..uhm..."

"i-i have so many questions." he scoffs, "first, okay? why in the honey bunches of fuck did you never tell me you could...you could..sing like that?"

you take a breath to answer, but he keeps going.

"two." he puts his hands to the back of his head, "since when could you play the piano? what song was that? was it yours? your moms? is this why you've never sang before? why-"

"luke, it-its complicated. i-" you take a breath out and shake your head, "i wrote it when i was 14. secretly. kind of before my mom died."

"why didn't you tell me you could write music?" he almost sounds offended.

"i dont know-- at the time you hadn't even started your band with reggie and alex yet, and that was like..your thing, and i just couldn't handle doing music again!" tears filled the bottom of your eyes as you tried to explain.

he steps towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you, caressing the back of your head as he holds it so his chest, stroking it with his thumb gently.

"shhh, sh. you don't have to explain anymore." his voice is gentle and warm. "i get it. but, music isn't something i own, okay? i wish you would have told me earlier, and i dont know how i didnt notice this before."

a sob accidentally escapes into his chest, and luke feels his heart slowly sink into the floor. he was a tough guy, but he would always let his guard down for you.

he rubs your back in comforting circles, "its okay, yeah? this is a good thing. its a great thing."

he tucks your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as you look up at him with swollen eyes and a slightly runny nose, luke speaking to you in a low and comforting voice. "you are so beyond talented. You know what im thinking?"

you shake your head softly, with a small sniffle.

"you need to be our singer for the band." he looks at you and titls his head like he already knows what you're going to say. "n' before you say no, think about it. you could do it in honor of your mom? y/n, look at you. you have crazy chemistry with a song you haven't even tried playing in years. you could play your keyboard? its waiting for you in the guest house. It would be practically wasting this amazing gift you have. and i cant let you do that. you know it, too."

"luke-" you almost whimper from the thought of playing music...all of the time. not just when you had sudden courage, like..all the time.

"please." he begs, "you dont have to decide or anything right now...just..think about it?" he looks down at you with those same eyes. "for me?" he bites his lower lip with a small smile.

"fine." you barely say. he almost jumps from excitement and hisses in victory before putting his hands on your shoulders and looks at you in the eyes. "you wont regret it."

"luke, what if-" you stop. "what if i fail? like, im not as good as i used to be? i havent even tried writing songs again-"

"from what i heard today? the like, one minute of you just...singing, and playing, was-- like, crazy good and thats more than what regs and alex and i could ever even dream of." he smiles, his dimples peaking out like a deer in headlights, "it would be totally awesome if you could join our band. Like an honor."

as you look at him speak you bite your lips nervously, and let out a shaky "okay."

he towers over you, taking a step closer and looking in both of your eyes, you could feel his warm breath dripping down your neck.

there was a silence as you look into both of his eyes back, smiling back slightly

"there's that smile."

he leans in slightly, you breathing out, and then looking down as your tone becomes quieter.

"we shouldn't do this." you whisper.

he makes you look at him by putting his finger under your chin.

"we definitely shouldn't do this." he breathes, trying not to smile.

"definitely." you say, him matching your expression.

"definitely." his breath catches in the air.

your lips meet his as he gently backs you into a wall, picking your legs up and holding them with his palms up like a feather.

you feel his warm lips lock against yours over and over.

"y/n," he takes a breath out, finally pulling away making a small click sound from your lips seperating.

"yeah?" you gasp for air.

"i love you." he chokes on his words, "i know its soon. i know. you dont have to say it back." he swallows. "i just thought you should know. n' like - its totally cool if-"

"i love you too, luke."

his eyes meet yours again, this time his eyebrows slightly furrowed, "for real?" a smile quickly creeps up on his face.

you gently nod your head as he kisses your lips again once more.

"i-i dont know its like- when i saw you playing, and- it was just-" he pauses, laughing and shaking his head.

"you're so talented. so real. like, down to it, real."

he looks at you with his soft eyes, kissing your forehead.

"your hole's filled now, y/n."

your eyes widen in surpise, "how did you--"

he rolls his eyes and tuts, "cm'on, seriously? i know you better than you know you."

a little smile appears on your face. it really was him all along. he knew after you played again you got the spark in your eyes back that you had when you met him and you were now the same girl he fell in love with all over again since he was ten.

he runs his thumb over your jaw. "that spark, right here?" he puts his hand off your chin and presses a fist gently to your rib. "right there."

"you're back."

you giggle softly, "im back."

divider creds to @benkeibear my nav ★

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak. 

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm. 

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you. 

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone. 

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything. 

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone. 

Then you found Jackson. 

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead. 

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical. 

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back. 

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.” 

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.” 

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?” 

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.” 

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den. 

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. 

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile. 

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?” 

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.” 

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.” 

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away. 

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.” 

“But—” 

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone. 

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort. 

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?” 

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones.  “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.” 

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.” 

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.” 

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.” 

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.” 

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds. 

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”  

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.” 

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.” 

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?” 

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.” 

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.” 

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.” 

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.” 

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten. 

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth. 

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon. 

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes. 

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing. 

And no one. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal. 

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things. 

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here. 

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent. 

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows. 

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest. 

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask. 

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?” 

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear. 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.” 

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”  

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway. 

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.” 

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst. 

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—” 

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand. 

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally. 

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question. 

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?” 

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.  

It’s Tucker. 

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off. 

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously. 

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian. 

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson. 

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore. 

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.” 

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.” 

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?” 

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle. 

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood. 

O W L 

A week had passed since Tucker’s death. 

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control. 

You also visit Joel and vice versa. 

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write. 

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go. 

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.” 

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours. 

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.” 

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?” 

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.” 

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?” 

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said. 

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?” 

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”  

“S-Say what?” 

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.” 

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you. 

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever. 

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock. 

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame. 

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing. 

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.” 

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt. 

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.” 

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together. 

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.” 

“Be my guest.” 

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What?” 

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.” 

“On—On your face?” 

“Where else?” 

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked. 

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails. 

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.” 

“What a noble way it would be to go.” 

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face. 

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks. 

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked. 

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—” 

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .” 

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?” 

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts. 

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward— 

And all hell finally breaks loose. 

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body. 

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper. 

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips. 

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine. 

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.” 

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up. 

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over. 

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?” 

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds. 

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer. 

On your second try you find something else. 

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully. 

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline. 

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel. 

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear. 

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.” 

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?” 

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.” 

“Really?” you ask and he nods. 

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?” 

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.” 

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?” 

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.” 

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.” 

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor. 

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?” 

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?” 

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask— 

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead. 

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.” 

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.” 

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?” 

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.” 

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?” 

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel. 

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.” 

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?” 

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin. 

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.” 

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.” 

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?” 

“W-What?” 

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does. 

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips. 

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?” 

“I—I don’t know.” 

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins. 

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.” 

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.” 

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.” 

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.” 

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.” 

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” 

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times. 

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love. 

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there. 

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel. 

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor. 

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way. 

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim. 

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest. 

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be. 

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask. 

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you. 

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once. 

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out. 

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys. 

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask. 

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off. 

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light. 

Joel. 

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second. 

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you. 

“Wait!” 

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair. 

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you. 

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” 

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition. 

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.” 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!” 

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.” 

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?” 

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation. 

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger. 

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.” 

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest. 

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.” 

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy. 

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.” 

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?” 

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.” 

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.  

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?” 

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips. 

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.” 

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.” 

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.” 

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.” 

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy. 

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.” 

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply. 

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame. 

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it. 

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.” 

“Does. . . Does Maria—” 

Tommy cuts you off, “No.” 

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.” 

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore. 

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes. 

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest. 

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?” 

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief. 

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them. 

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.” 

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones. 

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours. 

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says. 

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance. 

Tommy cradles your face tenderly,  urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort. 

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves. 

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach. 

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You don’t answer him. 

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more. 

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin. 

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction. 

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts. 

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.” 

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.” 

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.” 

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—” 

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.” 

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing. 

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name. 

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—” 

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you. 

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs. 

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness. 

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all. 

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hihihi!!!! i loveee the way u write angst!!!! could i please request a reader taking a fatal blow for jason? like some self sacrifice where reader protects jay? ahhh i just imagine the desperation and him running himself ragged to save reader before it ends with comfort!! thanks soso much! i hope u have a great week🩷

Set In Place

Hi, nonnie! Thank you, hope you enjoy! ~1.7k words

Slight miscommunication, but it's in the way they don't know how to talk to each other about feelings.

You weren't always a vigilante. You never planned on it, never wanted it. But when Jason Todd died you couldn't sit still, couldn't do nothing while the monsters that caused you to lose your best friend, your boyfriend, your first love, ran rampant.

You trained and trained until you were a shell of yourself. Until you and Bruce were both on a warpath that would only end with two more graves.

That was, until Tim came into your lives. Things got better, not much, but better. You learned to smile again, learned to soften your edges when you talked to the growing number of vigilantes patrolling Gotham's streets.

It scared you, sometimes, seeing kids no older than him fly around in the colors he died in. So you worked harder, got better, swore with everything you were and wouldn't be again that there will never be another dead Robin.

And then he came back. Jason– Red Hood, he called himself. It sends your world into a tailspin. You watch him become Gotham's most feared crime lord, you watch him leave all of that behind to become a hero. You watch as he slowly finds his place alongside his family.

You're just not exactly sure of what his place with you is. You patrol with him, you work with him. It's an awkward, unpracticed partnership, and you're sure he feels the same. You've told Bruce you don't want to work with Jason time and time again.

It's not that you don't miss him, don't feel envy at how easily he seemed to fall back into a routine with everyone else, it's just hard.

Hard when you catch him staring.

You know you must be unrecognizable to him, no longer the younger, civilian version of you. Hardened by the horrors of Gotham, scarred and calloused hands where skin used to be soft.

Bruce apparently didn't care about your complaints, because you find yourself on patrol with Red Hood more often than not. It's the same tonight, the two of you paired up to stake out some warehouse expecting a gun shipment for Falcone.

You can't help but watch him from the corner of your eye, he's different too, now. Bigger, sturdier, and willing to kill. A part of you wishes you had the courage to tell him that it doesn't make you hate him. That you miss him, and that nothing can change that part of your heart that's always been his.

You're tugged from your own thoughts when you see the familiar glint of a sniper rifle across the street. Your heart skips a beat and you're moving before you've even really connected that there's a gun.

You slam into Jason, a shot is fired. Pain blooms in your side as you both hit the ground.

Everything was different when Jason came back. It took a long time to settle, to try to find himself, to try to find his place in a family he doesn't know, a Gotham that's not quite what he remembers.

But he adapted, he carved out a place for himself that's undeniably his. He's really only left with one uncertainty, one place he doesn't know how to fit into.

You. His best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his first love. You're different now, but he is too, and he wants that to be okay.

Jason just doesn't know how to get to okay. He catches you watching him, he wonders what you see now. If you recognize the boy he used to be in what he is now. He can't help but watch you too. You're strong, brave, selfless and so, so beautiful. He's amazed about how much you've accomplished, how many lives you saved.

It's why he keeps telling Bruce to put him on patrol with you. It's worth the looks he gets if it means a chance to talk to you. He's currently trying to figure out the best way to get your attention during this boring stakeout. Should he ask what you've been up to? No, too general. If you're liking the weather? Ha, no. It's Gotham, that's stupid. The weather is bad.

If you have a partner? Oh, he definitely doesn't want to know that answer right now. He'd very much just like to be able to talk to you first.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Do you still love him like he still loves you?

He opens his mouth to speak, not having a plan but anything is better than silence, when you slam into him, crashing you both to the ground. The air leaves his lungs when he makes contact with the concrete, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head to cushion the fall.

"Hey, what–" He starts, voice failing when wetness starts to seep into his gloves. You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're shot. You're hurt because you saved him.

He's only able to react on the years of skill and training ingrained into his bones. Get you off of him and on the ground. Remove armor. Pressure on the wound. Where's the shooter? His eyes dart, he doesn't see anyone. Doesn't see who did this to you.

"Oracle," he chokes out "They're hurt, gun shot. It's bad. I need- we need an evac." He's tugging off his jacket, more material to slow the blood flow, something to keep you warm.

"Hey," You're reaching up to touch his arm with shaky hands, you sound relieved, "You're okay."

He tears up behind his helmet. It's not fair, not right that you're trying to comfort him when you're bleeding out on some forsaken Gotham rooftop. He vaguely hears the voices coming through the comlink, that help is coming, that he needs to tell them what's going on.

But, he can't respond to them, too focused on you, the way you seem to be getting weaker with each passing second. He's panicking, his breathing is shallow and fast as he tries to keep you alive.

"Why did you do that? Why did you do that?" He asks, trying to keep it together, but it's impossible when all he wants to do is scream and cry and hunt down whoever shot you.

You just offer a frail smile. "Glad you're safe, Jason," You murmur, words getting more slurred and quiet with each passing moment. He checks your pulse. It's getting too slow.

"Stay awake, stay with me," He begs, words fraying as he sobs your name, "please."

Something touches his shoulder, he has his gun pulled and pointed before he bothers to see who it is, face curled into a snarl behind his helmet.

"Woah there, Jason." Nightwing. His hands are raised, "we're going to help them, okay?"

Batman sweeps past him, crouching down at your side to pick you up. Jason launches forward, panicked and unable to think straight as he barks, "Don't touch them!"

Nightwing hauls him back as Batman carries them, his person, to the plane. "No, no, no, please. I need to be there. I need to. It's my fault!"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault, we're going too. C'mon." Nightwing soothes, letting go of him. Jason's on Batman's heels immediately, gaze locked on you, how your eyes keep sliding shut.

"The shooter–" He starts, anger building behind the guilt and panic.

"Spoiler and Robin have it handled." Batman tells him. Jason nods weakly and when Batman carefully sets you down in the plane, he takes your hand. Nightwing starts working over your wound, you barely make a sound in reaction to the pain.

"Stay awake. Don't go." He murmurs, begging, as he squeezes your fingers. He nearly sobs again when you offer him a feeble one in return.

Everything hurts. Which makes sense, you did get shot. It doesn't really bother you, at least not right now, not when Jason's holding your hand, his fingers resting over the steady beat of your pulse on your wrist.

You're not exactly sure how long you were passed out, but it was long enough that they got you into the medbay in the Batcave, stitched you up, and got you into a bed. Long enough that Jason's fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed, his head resting on top of the sheets by your hip.

You only hesitate for a second before reaching over to brush his hair back with your free hand. He's pretty when he's sleeping, but then again he's always pretty.

His eyes snap open and you draw your hand back. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, Jason."

He sits up quickly, eyes darting over you, "Don't be. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He hasn't let go of your hand.

"I'm okay." You promise, because you are. He didn't get hurt. He's here, and that makes everything okay.

He exhales shakily, studying you, "You shouldn't have done that."

You shrug, "Maybe, but you would have done the same thing." You know it's the truth, even if what's between you isn't the same, he's good. Always so good.

He frowns and runs his thumb over your knuckles, lost in thought, he can’t find the words to refute you, to make you understand what you did was wrong. "Do you– can I get you anything?"

You smile at him, teasing, trying to lighten the look on his face, "What? You gonna be my personal maid till I can get outta bed?"

You're surprised at how earnestly he nods, "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You blink at him and take a risk, "Maybe you could keep me company for a while? Not much to do in medbay," You ask tentatively, unable to ignore a real chance at being something– anything– with him.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the way he smiles at your question. It surprises you again, how thrilled your question seems to make him.

If you only knew what he was thinking now, how much he's been trying to find this moment that brings you two back into each other's lives, and the guilt he feels that it took you getting hurt to find it. "I'd like that," he tells you.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks down, as if he forgot he was even holding it. It feels right, familiar, something that used to be found again.

"I'd like that too." You say softly. It makes the two of you grin like two idiots in love.

You'll both figure out you are, eventually, but in this tender moment, it's a sweet solace to have found a place next to each other again.

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐍𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

rick sanchez x reader

anon request: please i can request literally anything with rick sanchez acting jealous. Thanks and if you don't accept requests just ignore this tags: sexually suggestive, possessive & obsessive rick, daddy kink notes: minors dni wc: 2.2k

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He is Rick Sanchez. The smartest man, scratch that, creature alive. He isn’t a mere human, he is a God. Whatever Rick wants, he gets. He invented interdimensional travel. He fucked a planet.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He knows that everything and everyone is replaceable. If someone dies he can just switch universes. Does he lose something? Same thing. Nothing is unique. There are millions of versions of everything. 

Rick doesn’t get attached.

That’s why when you confessed your feelings in a drunken haze Rick yelled at you. Rick thought you were at least smarter than Morty. You should have known that Rick doesn’t do feelings. That you’re nothing special. That you’re just a quick fuck when his cock gets hard and needs some easy pussy wrapped around it.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He didn’t understand why he felt pressure in his heart when you started crying, endless tears streaming down your cheeks as you apologized after he rejected your feelings. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the need to reach his arms out and pull you into a tight embrace. Instead he insulted you as a whiny dumb bitch before disappearing through a green portal.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

So why was he fuming with rage as he saw you cuddled up on the couch with some other man weeks after he told you to fuck off?

A relentless fire, burning away any semblance of rational thought consumed Rick. His eyes smoldered with suspicion at the slightest hint of the man's attention toward you. Rick’s gestures became tense and guarded, his clenched fists betraying the turmoil within. Every smile directed at you from that dude sent a surge of insecurity coursing through Rick’s veins, twisting his features into a mask of possessiveness. Each innocent interaction fueled his rage until it consumed him entirely.

“Wh–Who the fuck is that–that lame fratboy on my couch?!”, Rick didn’t even bother to step closer, his voice dripping with anger. Your eyes shot wide open as you saw the tall scientists near the door. After your confession you avoided him as best as you could – after all you did live with the Smith family ever since your parents (their old neighbors) abandoned you. You never joined an adventure again. You never went into his garage to simply chat with him. You didn’t even ask if you could smoke space-weed. Nothing. That pissed Rick off even more because he caught himself missing you one time too many.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m Michael”, Michael was a polite, handsome young man, who attended the same college you did. Smiling, he reached his hand out towards Rick to shake his hand, “Are you y/n’s grandfather?”

If looks could kill every version of Michael would be dead by now. “You’re fuck–fucking stupid.” Rick would’ve loved to just kill that boy or at least cut off Michael’s hand, which was dangerously close to your thigh. You two were way too close for Rick in general. “y/n, who is that? Your new–new lover, huh? You little– Spreading your legs a–already?”

Rick knew he was overstepping it. He should have never said that but he couldn’t help it. You didn’t talk to him for weeks after you said that you love him with all your heart and now you’re with some lame, boring dumbass? Is that what undying love looks like? 

“…You’re a fucking asshole, Rick”, Rick could hear you holding back your tears, the way your eyes started to water, your cheeks painted red. He hurt you – again. Meanwhile Michael had already stood up and made his way over to Rick.

„Listen to m–„ Michael didn‘t stand a chance, Rick immediately interrupted him. 

„Li–Listen to me, shitface. I know– You fratboys are all the fucking–fucking same. You wanna tell me y–you‘re serious about y/n?“, he stepped closer, „You– Could you give her your phone and promise–promise she wouldn‘t find nudes or chats from other pussies?“

Absolute silence. This was all it took for Rick to confirm his suspicions. „Now you‘re si–silent? Jesus. How predictable. Jesus fucking christ. You think just because you’re d–defending her right now she’ll let you have– get a piece of her? You– Do you really think y/n would do that?” More silence though now Michael’s expression almost matched Rick’s. Both were fuming with rage. Rick simply shook his head, pulled out his portal gun and ended up in his garage again. If he would have stayed any longer he would have ended up beating that fratboy to a pulp.

In the dimly lit confines of his garage, the air thick with the pungent scent of portal fluid and vodka, Rick's rage simmered beneath a haze of alcohol fumes. His knuckles whitened around his flask as he gulped down the fiery liquid, each swig fueling the inferno of jealousy and resentment burning within him. The echoes of a heated argument still reverberated in his mind, igniting a storm of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. His bloodshot eyes fixated on nothingness, yet his thoughts were consumed by visions of betrayal and deceit, twisting his features into a contorted mask of fury.

Rick's movements grew increasingly erratic, his drunken stupor amplifying the intensity of his emotions. Each swill from the bottle became a desperate attempt to drown out the insecurities gnawing at his soul. Yet, with every passing moment, the flames of anger raged higher, feeding off his intoxication like a relentless blaze devouring dry timber. Alone in the darkness, he surrendered to the tumultuous tempest raging within, consumed by a toxic cocktail of alcohol, jealousy, and resentment. Resentment towards Michael, you and most importantly – himself.

“Fuck it.”

His plan was to be teleported in the middle of your room, right in front of your bed. Instead he landed right on top of you on your bed. Maybe he really did have too much to drink. But fuck, did he miss this. Your silky hair, your soft skin, your body pressed against his, your eyes staring into his. The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window accentuated the contours of Rick’s silhouette, casting a seductive allure over the scene. His gaze, intense and unwavering, bore into yours, a silent invitation laden with unspoken desires.

As you laid on the bed, a mixture of melancholia and yearning coursed through your veins, your heart quickening in response to his proximity. The air crackled with tension, charged with the palpable electricity of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Despite the intimacy of their proximity, there lingered a delicate balance between attraction and apprehension, a dance of emotions teetering on the edge of possibility. In that fleeting moment, suspended in the hazy embrace of moonlight, you found yourselves ensnared in a silent exchange of desire, your hearts entwined in the delicate threads of possibility.

“What…what are you doing, Rick? Please leave”, your voice was shaking, filled with sadness. Just like a few weeks ago when Rick rejected you. Honestly as the days unfolded, the weight of his decision settled upon him like a heavy shroud, suffocating him with the burden of regret. What once seemed like a reasoned choice now gnawed at his conscience incessantly, tormenting him with the realization of what he had forsaken. In the quiet moments of reflection, your presence lingered in the recesses of Rick’s mind, a constant reminder of the warmth and companionship he had callously turned away. He yearned for a chance to rewind time, to recant his words and embrace the opportunity he had foolishly cast aside. But as the echoes of his rejection reverberated through his thoughts, he grappled with the harsh truth that some wounds inflicted by one's own hand can never fully heal, leaving behind scars of remorse that serve as a painful testament to lost love.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, Rick found himself enveloped by a surge of longing and regret as he reached out to embrace you. His arms wrapped around your trembling form, pulling you close with a tenderness born from the depths of his remorse. With each beat of his heart, Rick felt the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken apologies pressing down upon him, a heavy burden he could no longer bear. As your bodies pressed together, he savored the warmth of your presence, a fleeting glimpse of the connection he had foolishly forsaken. In that embrace, Rick sought solace in the familiarity of your touch, yearning to erase the distance he had allowed to grow between you. But even as he held you close, Rick knew that some wounds run too deep to mend with a simple embrace, and the ache of regret would linger long after your arms had untangled and they parted ways once more. So, he didn’t let go.

“Why– Why did you b-bring that boy over?”, Rick whispered into your ear.

“…Why do you even care?”

With a heavy heart and a tangled web of emotions, Rick mustered the courage to lean back and face you, intent on conveying the depth of his regret for his earlier rejection. His words caught in his throat, a silent plea for forgiveness lingering on Rick’s lips. Yet, beneath the facade of contrition, a different truth simmered—a truth he dared not confess. Deep down, Rick knew that admitting his regret would unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart, exposing the vulnerability he had long sought to conceal. So, with practiced deceit, Rick masked his true intentions behind a facade of remorse, weaving a tangled web of half-truths and feigned contrition in a desperate attempt to suppress the stirring of emotions he dared not acknowledge. In the shadow of his deception, the echoes of his regret remained unspoken, a silent testament to the complexities of love and the fear of baring one's soul to the object of Rick’s desire.

“Did you– Did you fuck him?”

“Why do you care?”

“y/n, st–stop with this shit. Are you dating him?”

“Why do you care?”

As you persisted, your insistence slicing through the fragile veneer of Rick’s composure, a simmering rage ignited within him, fueling the flames of his resentment. With each passing moment, your few simple words bore deeper into Rick’s wounded pride, stoking the embers of his anger into a blazing inferno. The weight of your expectations pressed down upon him like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he sought to shield from your penetrating gaze. Fueled by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and insecurity, his temper flared, unleashing a torrent of pent-up frustration and bitterness.

“What the fuck– What d–do you want to hear, huh?!”, Rick leaned on his hands, which were lying next to your head.

“Rick, listen, you rejected me. You didn’t want me, remember? I can fuck and date however I fucking want! ”

“No! You fucking can’t!”, he screamed into your face, “You said– You said loved me! Talking about– about undying love and now?! Now you get with s–some young bastard from co–college who only wanted to– to fuck you anyway!”

“That’s exactly what you wanted, too! You only wanted to fuck me!”

“That’s not fucking true! I– The last fucking weeks were pure torture. I fucking m–miss you! I can’t fuck–fucking stop thinking about you, y/n. I miss your fucking smell, your h–hair, your voice. Fucking e–everything! I miss your face, the–the way you nag me to drink more water. Jesus fucking christ! I miss you. Why– Why the fuck are crying even more now?!”

With tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you listened intently as Rick finally mustered the courage to confess the truth hidden behind his guarded facade. As his words washed over you, each syllable laden with the weight of unspoken longing and regret, a floodgate of emotions burst forth within you. Your heart soared with a bittersweet symphony of relief and elation, the echoes of Rick’s confession resonating deep within your soul. The tears that spilled from your eyes were not born of sorrow, but of an overwhelming sense of gratitude and validation, as you realized that the love you had held in your heart had not been in vain.

In a tender moment suffused with the weight of unspoken truths and undeniable desire, Rick leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the hazy embrace of the moonlit room. With a gentle touch, Rick cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin. As your lips met in a fervent kiss, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away to leave only the two of you entwined in the delicate dance of passion and longing. With each caress, the walls he had built around his heart crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the embrace of her warmth. In that moment of intimacy, you surrendered to the magnetic pull of your shared desire, bodies entangled in a silent symphony of love and redemption.

“You know– You know I’m not good with…emotions and shit. But– But you’re important to me and–and I’m not letting another man touch what’s mine.”

“You were jealous?”

“I wasn’t– Fuck it. Yes, yes, I was. Wanted to k–kill that motherfucker. The way he–he had his arm around–”, in the middle of his rant you wrapped your legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. His crotch pressing against yours.

“Just so you know, I have been very, very lonely the last few weeks.”

“Oh? S–So you’ve been a good–good girl for daddy, huh?”, it didn’t take long for Rick to get hard, his bulge pressing against you, his hand now choking you slightly, “F–fuck, princess, daddy’s going to–to reward you for being so patient.”