#crude wiring

[sw5w]

Yay! Yippee!

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:03:03

[dogwoodbite]

ouugh i have got 2 make chainmail....

[draconic-desire]

💥 Take My Whiskey Neat 💥

Yandere Boothill x Reader

Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???

You’ve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.

“Aw, darlin’, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proud’a yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,” he concludes with a wink.

Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.

That’s because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. You’re just the unlucky target.

He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he won’t pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.

You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing you’ll relinquish is your pride—you’re not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesn’t help your chances—especially when lately, his only occupation has been you.

“What, no clap back today? No, ‘fudge you, ya son of a nice lady’ or ‘fork you, shirtbaggin’ bootlicker’? I’ve gotten so used to yer colorful language that I’m almost disappointed!” Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.

Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. He’s superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. He’s clinging to you after all that’s been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didn’t rely on that neuro chip of his; then he’d know that what he’s showing you isn’t love, but obsession.

You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when he’d burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, he’d said, and he’d caught wind of a handy ‘machine doctor’—a mechanic, you’d corrected him—in town who could fix him right up.

It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.

That’s when he’d seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.

After he’d shared his story, you’d felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, you’d brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.

He’d sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, you’d quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.

His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. “I—please, don’t stop. That feels…nice.”

You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him again—he was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolf—but to your surprise, his visits didn’t end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes he’d bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and you’d cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.

Then the visits started to increase in their frequency—and intensity. He’d show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or he’d appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.

You’d had to put your foot down—as much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldn’t allow him to interfere with your career. You’d worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what you’d achieved on your own.

His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. “Just watch out, lil cutie, ‘cause I know you’ll be missin’ me soon.”

Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced you’d be coming with him.

“I’ve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlin’.”

“And if I refuse?”

That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.

Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.

It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his family…except the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.

“You just want to hear me curse because you can’t,” you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you can’t help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.

He forgets you’re not the only one armed.

You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. “Go fuck yourself, Boothill.”

The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. “Haha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.” He grins, flashing those shark teeth you’d groan to loathe. You’ve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars they’ve littered across your flesh.

That’s something he can’t seem to get enough of—the feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.

“Lan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.

“Think ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if he’s not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.

His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. “Now, how ‘bout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me pretty…” His voice drops an octave. “…pent up, if ya know what I mean.”

The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.

~*~

Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.

The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and you’d lost count of the number of shots you’d taken.

Boothill’s normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. “Darlin’, I know it’s been a long couple’a days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time being—”

“Shyut up!” you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys he’d given you. “Thiz is your fault.”

He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. “Aren’t we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, you…you mudder…fuuuu…” You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumble—wait, no, that’s him steadying your shoulders.

“(Y/n).” You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. “Put the bottle down. I know the feelin’ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ain’t right.”

“I’m only like this because you took me from my life!”

He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. “That little shack you called a home? Was that really livin’? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!”

“I didn’t ask for you to put me in a moving cage,” you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. “But you never asked what I wanted, did you?”

“Why’s this all so hard for you to accept?” One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. “It could be just us, ridin’ through the galaxy for all time.” His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. “Just be mine.”

In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.

The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.

Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. “That’s what could have been if you hadn’t kidnapped me. If you’d asked me first.” Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. “Too bad that’s all you’ll get. Fork you, Boothill.”

As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So that’s what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.

Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.

Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. He’s nearly positive he’ll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldn’t, can’t be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.

Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.

“I’ll have you someday,” he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. “Whiskey ain’t the only thing that’ll be on your lips, darlin’.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fic idea: Cave Boy

Danny Fenton is a lot of things, but good under pressure is not one of them. He didn't mean to be stranded in an unknown universe after playing around with his parents' Specter Speeder in the Ghost Zone and losing control of it. He didn't mean to find shelter in the strange cave systems under the city Danny crashlanded in. He didn't mean to step on any bat and bird costume-wearing toes.

All he was trying to do was fix the ship he arrived in with stolen and repurposed technology from all across the city. He also didn't take anything that wasn't in a garbage can so he couldn't even be acussed of thief.

Danny barely even allowed himself to be spotted, only going out at night to avoid regular citizens. Danny was a very considerate dimensional visitor compared to the Ghosts that came to Amity Park.

He spent hours exploring the caves as a human, but whenever he felt like it was time to go back, he shifted into his ghost form and floated upwards until he was above the ground. Sometimes he find himself far away from city limits othertimes he be right under a bank or a apparement complex.

It was an exciting, if a little rough, life. He occasionally found food in the garbage, and while it was disgusting, it was better than nothing. Thankfully, his halfa status allowed him to go longer without meals, sleep, and even breathing. It's just a bit hard to keep track of time since he rarely sees the sun, and he doesn't exactly have a clock nearby, but he sure it's been at least three months when he finds the bat and bird costume wearing people.

Danny is minding his own business, having just found a primarily intact toaster that would have the perfect wiring for the Speeder's temperature-controlling unit, when he mistakenly take a right on the third turn instead of a left.

It wouldn't usually be a problem, as he could just float to the topside and find his way to his little shelter/shop, but he had unknowingly tripped motion detectors. Danny had continued on his merry way, just starting to realize he was lost, when out of the shadows a man in a gaint bat costume leaped at him.

He yelp, barely dropping out of a nasty-looking jab, bending his back from the elbow aimed at his face and only through his ghost reflexes able to jump over the leg swipe.

"Who are you!?" The man growled "how did you find this place?"

"Dude, I live here!" Danny gasped, throwing himself to the ground to avoid what he knew was a jujitsu grab. "What you doing here?!"

He doesn't get a answering seeing as a bo staff of all things slams into the back of his head. He hits the ground just as his attacker says.

"Good job Red Robbin"

"Yummmmm" Danny mutters word association too strong not to.

When he wakes, he finds himself tucked in a medical cot inside a glass cell. He is still inside the caves but somewhere he's never seen. It's filled with technological advances that has his mouth watering just looking at them.

His hands twitch with the urge to break everything apart and tinker. He's a Fenton through and through.

He would have enjoyed the scenery- especially the gaint computer that was just calling his name- except various people in costumes were standing around his cell studying him like a animal in a zoo.

"Oh, ugh, hi," Danny says to the man in the giant red helmet. He gets no response so he tries to get a reaction from the others. It yields the same results. "Okay. So ugh is this a cult thing? Cause I really don't want to be part of whatever is happening here"

"What is your name?" The man dressed like a Bat demands and well crude if this is a cult thing Danny doesn't want them knowing his name. Either as human or as a ghost.

So he thinks of the most boring name he can think of, wrestling his ghost to make his body language as human as possible as he says "my name is Bruce"

There is a sharp intake of breath to his left, which causes Danny to look at a man wearing blue. That man has his face pressed against the glass, staring at Danny with a wide, manic smile. Even though the white lens of the blue man's mask hides his eyes, he knows they are drinking in Danny's features.

"look at him! He's adorable!" The blue man gushes and the other teenagers all nod in agreement.

"Super cute," the girl in purple agrees stepping closer to peer at Danny.

"A bit odd to see so much emotion on that face but he really is cute." the one holding a bo staff adds.

"He is weak." A boy sneers, "Hardly deserving of the blood in his veins."

"Lay off Demon Brat" The guy with the red helmet says, "He's just a civilian."

Now, Danny did not like those comments.

What if this is a cult thing but not a ghost cult like he orginally thought? What if it's a creepy sex thing? Or Cannibals? Or a secret fight club where they would force him to partake in death battles?

Whatever the case may be, they could not know he's from a different dimension.

"Bruce," the man dressed as a Bat cuts into the chatter. He levels a hard stare at Danny, who flinches away from it. The man's face softens just a bit. "We know that you from a different dimension"

"We tested your blood and have means to detect travelers from alternate universes" a guy in yellow helpfully says. "We also sort of figured who you were before that"

Seriously how?

"What?" Danny asks and the man in the Bat costume removes his masks. He's left staring at someone who look oddly familar but for the life of him he can't place it.

"Ughhhhh"

"Bruce, I'm also Bruce Wayne and in this universe I'm Batman" He says

Who?

"We will help you get home" Bruce tells Danny unlocking his cell. "I'm sorry about the ambush"

Now, this is where Danny should come clean and tell this man the truth, but he panics because he is not good under pressure and instead says, "Okay,"

And that's how Danny is mistaken for Bruce Wayne's civilian dimension traveling counterpart. He tries to roll with it, he does, but it's a little hard to when he's surrounded by weirdos who dress up like clowns to fight crime.

What even is his life.

[marlenacantswim]

tenth doctor the most relatable doctor because i too have a massive ego and ignore people who are attracted to me 💖

closeups (including text and image ID) under the cut, snip snip snip ✂️

[Image ID: a sketchpage-style series of eight digital drawings of the tenth doctor. they are all bust/torso up, and each is doing a different activity in slightly different canon outfits. the first depicts him in his glasses fiddling with wires. in the next he's wearing classic 3d specs, and appears shocked. in the next he is smiling with his face close to the viewer while donna stands annoyedly behind him. in the next he side-eyes the viewer with a neutral to serious expression. the next depicts his sad, wounded face from the aftermath of the conflict in End of Time Part Two; his suit jacket is slightly torn and his eyes are watery. the next has him examining a chip pierced at the end of a plastic fork he's holding. in the next he stares off to the side, slightly confused. in the last he's wielding the sonic screwdriver, pointing it upwards with a perplexed look on his face. there is penciled text scribbled around the drawings, reading "Ten!", "god complex", "GEEK CHIC", "adhd icon", "everyone want her sooo bad", "baby girl", "go whiteboy go!!!", "farsighted (for the DRAMA)", "stylish bedhead", "there's like, four of him", "SAD.", "WET.", "PATHETIC.", "will not STFU", "has canonically eaten human blood :)", "omfg?!", "needs therapy", "kinda toxic :/ (free my girl martha)", "if a drowned weasel was also the most beautiful girl you're ever seen", "misses his girlfriend :(", "PRETTYBOY", "asexual SLUT", "he's sorry. he's so, so sorry.", and "ALLONS-Y!". there is also sparse radial gallifreyan and crude sketches of the tardis and a chuck converse shoe. /.End ID]

my brain goes "ooooo you are gonna draw tenth doctor fifty bajillion time" and i go "thanks brain you are correct. we are in agreement."

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Curiosity Killed the Cat (+18)

Pairing: Massacre Soldier Killer x Female Reader

WC: 2600

Summary: You’ve never seen Killer without his mask. It’s a secret that you can’t help but need to be a part of. Your curiosity gets the best of you and Killer catches you peeping. 

TW: !SMUT PURE SELF INDULGENT SMUT! Porn with VERY LITTLE plot! fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, filthy talk, praise kink good girl etc, size difference. it's just porn.

**Minors DNI!!! 18+ only!!***

— — 

You had been with the Kid Pirates for half a year now and during these six months you’ve learned the inner workings of the crew and the Victoria Punk herself. You knew that the best place to take a nap was in the storeroom next to the kitchen. You knew that Heat and Wire have had a game of Dungeons and Dragons going on for the past 6 years and they play every Friday evening. You knew that Killer hated when you left food on your plate at the end of a meal claiming that “a girl needs her strength.” You knew that every morning at 10:00 AM sharp, Captain Kid would render the ship’s only bathroom unusable for at least the next hour. 

There was something that was still a mystery to you. 

You had never seen Killer without his mask. 

It was something you had wondered about ever since you first met the crew’s first mate. Was he horrifically ugly? Maybe covered in scars? Why did he hide himself from the world? He was always the kindest to you of all the Kid Pirates, making sure you were fed and had supplies you needed when you first joined the crew. Your crude captain left a lot to be desired in terms of intelligent conversation, but in contrast, Killer would inquire about the book you were reading or if you needed a late night snack. 

Tonight you were drawn into the kitchen by the delicious smell of garlic and onions being sautéed in oil and butter. You enter the galley and can’t help but flit over to the stove where Killer was diligently working. You lean over the pot of boiling pasta water and the steam feels nice on your dry, salt-worn skin. 

“Mmmmm, smells so yummy, Kil!” He was nearly a foot taller than you, so it was easy to sneak in-between him and the stove to get a better whiff of his decadent culinary creations. 

You feel his massive chest behind you vibrate as he chuckles. 

“Thank you, little one. I hope you’re hungry.” 

*SLAM* 

“Hey, that shit smells good!” Kid exclaims as he barrels into the kitchen, slightly drunk already. Killer whips his head around to look at his captain. You take this moment to lean your head back and try to peek under the gap between his chin and his mask. You strain your eyes but all you can see is darkness. Your efforts are quickly thwarted as Killer returns his attention to the stove to stir the pasta. 

“Are you making that thing I like? The spaghetti cars banana?” Kid asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

Killer sighs. 

“Carbonara. It’s carbonara, for the last fucking time.” Killer looks down at you. “Dinner’s almost ready, why don’t you wait at the table?”

You smile up at him, searching the holes in his mask for any clue at his expression. You nod and proceed to set the dining table for the evening meal. 

— — 

After you had your fill of wine and pasta (making sure to gesture to Killer and show him your clean plate to which he gives you a playful thumbs up), you decided you’d treat yourself to a hot bath. You were sure that the rest of the crew would spend the rest of the night drinking themselves stupid so you could enjoy a quiet bath in peace. 

You stroll into the bathroom with your towel and lay it next to the tub. You put the plug in and get the hot water started. You search the cabinets for some sort of bubble bath, but end of having to settle on an unmarked bottle of body wash. You pour the soap into the bath and white, fluffy bubbles start to form on the surface of the water. 

Once the tub was full, you shut off the water and stripped yourself of your filthy, ocean-smelling clothes. You step into the steaming water one foot at a time and gently lower yourself into the bathtub. As soon as you’re settled with your head leaning against the edge of the tub you release a deep sigh. 

After a few minutes of soaking, you find yourself almost drifting off. The doorknob clicking open snapped you out of your daze. The wooden bathroom door creaked open and Killer stepped inside the bathroom. 

You instinctively cover your breasts with your hands, but it goes unnoticed by the intruder who went straight for the sink and counter on the opposite side of the room. You realize that he hasn’t even noticed your presence so you hold your breath, not wanting to startle or upset him. He stands at the sink for a moment with his hands gripping the counter. 

He then raises his hands and reaches for the back of his head. 

Oh my god. He was taking his mask off.

You were paralyzed, breath caught in your chest, eyes locked on the golden locks spilling from behind the mask. He leans down and pulls the mask off and leaves it on the counter to his right. You involuntarily slap your hand over your mouth in surprise. 

You eyes are fixed on the bathroom mirror when you see a pair of angled, sharp blue eyes staring back at you in it. 

“I know you’re there, little one.” 

You gasp. You still can’t move, stuck staring into those enchanting eyes. The only other things you could see were worn white bandages and messy blonde hair cascading from atop his head. 

“Come on out now… I want to show you something.” Killer says without turning around. 

You were mesmerized by his sweet voice, so you obeyed and stood up and stepped out of the tub. You dried off quickly and wrapped your towel around your torso before Killer interrupted you. 

“You won’t need that. Leave it. Come here.” 

You drop the towel and hesitantly approach the man at the sink, his muscles rippling in his back through his blue tee shirt. 

“Jump up here. I want you to help me take the bandages off.” Killer pats the counter to his left. 

You were frozen in place and your eyes were glued to the floor, so anxious about seeing his face. 

“Be a good girl and listen. Up.” Killer pats the counter again, more forcefully this time. 

“Yes, Kil…” You squeak and turn around and use the heels of your hands to pull yourself up onto the counter. You still would’t look up. 

“It’s ok… you can look…” Killer puts his hand over yours as it rested on the counter. You slowly raise your head and see a face covered in bandages, the only parts exposed being a thick pair of dark plum lips and those piercing eyes you saw staring at you from the mirror. You suck in a breath. 

“Here..” Killer pulls your hand and places one of the edges of the bandage in it and helped you begin to unravel it. With each pass of your hand across his face, Killer strokes up and down your bare thigh, causing you to open your legs involuntarily. 

With no sounds other than your own heavy breathing, you finally reveal Killer’s face. You gasp as you pull your hand to back your chest. He was so beautiful. His bright eyes such a contrast against his olive tanned skin. His chin was chiseled and his nose was pointed so sharply. You also notice faint scars littering his cheeks, similar to the ones on his left arm. You didn’t care, he was still handsome to you. 

“Killer… you’re… so pretty…” You reach a hand up and gingerly touch his cheek. He smiles softly. You curse him silently for keeping that smile from you for so long. He laughs and nuzzles into your hand. 

“Not as pretty as you, little one. Will you let me see you, too?”

“W-what do you mean?” You question. 

“Put your legs up, spread yourself for me.” He states as he starts bending your knees to place your feet on the counter at your sides, widely exposing your most intimate area to him. You feel blush fill your cheeks and the tip of your nose. 

“Mmm… now that’s pretty…” Killer coos as he slides his huge hand down your inner thigh to stroke up and down your slit with his thumb, sticky slick coating his digit. You find yourself shivering in anticipation under his touch. He begins focusing his movements on your clit as he rubs it in agonizingly slow circles, working you up at a painful pace. 

You can’t do anything but pant heavily and stare at his hand caressing your naked sex. 

“Look at me.” Killer demands. You oblige and look up at his exposed face. Your mouth hangs open as you keep his gaze, his rough thumb on your clit driving your crazy. 

“Killer…” You whimper up at him. 

“You’re so wet, sweet girl. So ready to get stretched out, hmm?” His lips curl into a devious smirk. 

You nod dumbly without breaking eye contact. 

Killer plunges two large fingers into your soaked hole and immediately curls them up into your spot. 

“Shit, Kil!” You cry out and grab his bicep with one hand, supporting yourself on your other palm. He pulls and tugs his fingers repeatedly inside of you while grinding the base of his hand into your clit. 

“I can’t hold it! I’m gonna! Fuck, Killer!” You whine loudly as you feel the coil in your belly tighten dangerously. You slam your eyes shut and grab onto his arm with both hands, leaning forward into him for support. 

“That’s good little one, hold onto me, just let go for me…” 

“OH FUCK!” You cry out and fluids spray out of your body onto both Killer and the bathroom floor. Your core squeezes and spasms, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Killer helps you through your orgasm by whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

Slumped over into his shoulder, Killer removes his fingers from your core and scoops you up in one arm off the counter.

“You did such a good job, cumming so nicely for me. Think you can take my cock now?” Killer asks as he hikes you up in his grip, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Yes, I want it, please…” You say softly, still coming down from your previous high. 

“Perfect.” Killer chuckles and turns to carry you to the table that you usually used for folding laundry. He lays your naked, flushed form gently down on the surface of the table and rips his shirt over his head. He quickly unbuckles his belt and shuffles his jeans down his legs and steps out of them. His huge dick bobs in your direction, uncut tip red and leaking. 

“It… it’s not gonna fit…” You breath out as you stare in awe at his member while sitting up on your elbows. 

Killer grins again and steps between your spread legs, slapping his cock on your abdomen, showing exactly how deep it was supposed to go inside of you. You audibly whimper at the thought. 

“Sweetheart… you like being a good girl, right?” He coos down at you, his massive frame eclipsing most of the light in the room. He rubs soothing circles into your hip with his hand.

“Mhmm…” You sheepishly nod. 

“So you’re gonna lay there and take this whole cock in that tight little cunt of yours like a good girl, hmm?” He teases as he pulls back and guides his tip to rub up and down on your clit. 

“Mmmmhmmmm” You whine and buck your hips up into his touch. Killer uses this permission to press his heavy cockhead into your soaked opening. Inch by inch he splits your body open, the stretch causing you to moan out. 

“That’s right, little one… feels good, doesn’t it?” Killer reaches up a huge palm to squeeze and pinch your sensitive nipple. 

“Fuck, Kil! So full!” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to relax on his giant member. 

“Oh, my sweet baby, I’m not even all the way in yet!” Killer gives you a sinister laugh. He takes his opportunity to push his hips flush against yours and your writhe and cry from the sensation. You had never been this full in your life, he was truly stuffing you to your limits and it felt so good. He rubs your clit with one hand as he pulls back out, groaning lowly as he feels your cunt desperately cling to him and try to suck his member back in. 

Killer begins thrusting his hips, keeping most of himself sheathed deep inside of your walls and his hand gripped your waist to pull you back into him with each thrust. 

“Ah!” You moan and whine, grabbing and scratching at Killer’s broad chest as he molds your insides to the shape of his cock. You could barely breath, the man inside of you so large that you felt like he was in your chest. Killer speeds up his ministrations on your swollen clit. 

“Come on sweetheart… I feel you squeezing me, you’re close again…” Killer picks up the pace of his thrusts and you shriek out at the force of his hips slamming into your ass and thighs. “Fucking give it to me!” Killer presses harder into your clit and you scream and explode for the second time that night, for the first time on his cock. 

Tears were now freely flowing down your red cheeks and you could no longer form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. You were a babbling, bouncing mess being speared by Killer’s massive girth. You were so dick drunk that your eyes were rolling back in your head. 

“More, more, more, more!” You slur out from your helpless state, spread out on the laundry table. 

“What a greedy little pussy… so fucked out and you want more? Want me to fill you, my sweet girl? Make sure you feel me for days…” Killer punctuated his last sentence with a push to your lower stomach. 

“Uh huh! Kil, please! Cum inside!” You try to nod your head but the force of Killer’s strokes made it nearly impossible. 

“Hnnnggg…” Killer slams his hips deep into yours and blows his heavy load into your wet, waiting walls. He leans down and buries his head in the crook of your neck as his cock still twitches inside of you. As his orgasm subsides, he sighs and slowly pulls out of your spent cunt, leaving a heavy stream of semen to pour out of your hole. He holds himself up above your head and looks down at you and smiles. 

You smile back. You lift a shaky hand and cup his cheek. 

“It’s you…” You whisper as he gazes affectionately into your eyes. 

“It is me. And you’re mine now.” Killer says. Before he pushes himself off the table and grabs your towel to wrap around his waist. After fastening the towel securely he grabs you by your sides off the table and throws your nude body over his shoulder. He carries you out of the bathroom, presumably to his bedroom. 

“What the fuck Killer?” Kid calls from down the hallway, spotting you both. “Why is y/n naked? What the hell are you doing?”

“Going to enjoy my dessert.” He calls back at his captain. 

It was going to be a long night. 

— —

xx

[c-nstantine]

Him & I

Kinktober Fic: Mafia! Jason Todd shows his subordinates how much he deeply cares for his girlfriend.

Warnings/Kinks: Exhibitionism & Praise

Word Count: 1.5K

Jason was livid. In his domination of Gotham's underworld, he thought he had assembled a crew of the better-mannered goons. He was wrong and Jason didn't tolerate being wrong. The goons at hand had said some very disturbing things about his Y/N, his angel in this world of sin.

"You all might be wondering why I called this meeting," He announced sitting behind his desk so carefully. The men in front of him had no clue what was about to happen. How could they? They didn't know that Jason had every inch of his base wired with cameras and microphones. 

"Wassup, boss," One of the nameless goons responded. They were disposable, and this was Gotham, goon applications were a mile high. Jason rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white button-down as he began to speak.

"Some of you have been making snide and inappropriate comments about Y/N, my Y/N, "He emphasized but it was clear to anyone who saw that he was just as much hers as she was his. Those two were devoted to each other in a way most could only hope to have love.

"Boss, you know we'd never mean that," Another nameless buffoon called out.

"Oh. 'Cause everyone in this room has made comments, crude comments," Jason opened a drawer pulled a gun, and placed it on the deep mahogany desk. 

"Boss?" One of the goons said a bit frightened. Jason was known to have a bit of a temper. Luckily, it had never been aimed at them, so far. 

"I think I'll show you all how great Y/N truly is. Y/N, can come in here for a second, dear?" He pushed a button on the landline to call for his lover. He was almost giddy with the plan that he had come up with.

"You called," Y/N said as she walked into Jason's office. Normally, Jason did not like to have her in there but this was an exception. 

"Say 'Hi' to the boys for me," Jason basically lit up when the love of his walked in. She was wearing a simple loungewear set of shorts and a tank top but her brown thighs ate the shorts and made them a little smaller than they were supposed. He knew wash day was coming up by the way she was wearing her hair in a high puff. 

"Hi, boys," Y/N said waving to the goons. Not one of them dared to wave back to her like normal. They were already in enough shit as it is. Y/N simply scrunched her eyebrows and took a seat on the edge of Jason's desk. 

"Would you like to be a part of a demonstration?" Jason asked while placing his hands on either side of Y/N's hips.

"Sure," Y/N said with a smile. She had no idea what she was getting into but that's okay because Jason was her knight in shining armor. 

"Stand on the table for me," Jason said tapping her ass as she scooted off the edge of the desk.

"Okay," Jason gave Y/N his hand as she stepped on the desk a little wobbly. She was a little unsure of what she was doing up there but one reassuring smile from Jason was all that she needed.

"Show them the tattoo," He said with a commanding tone and Y/N did as he asked. Lifting her shirt and lowering her pants, on her hip slightly covered by her stomach pudge was a small tattoo. It read Jason in cursive.

"See this tattoo doesn't mean that she belongs to me but rather she's a part of me. " Jason explained to the goons. In this relationship, they were equals. Of course, Y/N would always listen to Jason if it had to do with her safety but at the end of the day, she was safe with him.

"Now undress," Jason said looking up at his girl. She held eye contact with him as she stripped him of her clothing. Her body was bare in front of him. 

"See this level of obedience and trust is something none of you short-dick motherfuckers will ever have. She is completely exposed in front of gross men but she knows I'd never let them hurt her," He said enjoying the view of his naked girlfriend. He watched the swell of her breast rise and fall before taking notice of the slight dampening between her thighs. 

"Look at her, she is perfection by every definition. Every valley, every crevice, and every stretchmark on her is nothing but beauty. " He spoke earnestly and his eyes never waivered from her. 

"Baby, you can get down. Why don't you suck me off?" He helped her get off the desk by holding her hips as she put her hands on his shoulders. He lifted her down gently. He put her clothes on the floor so that she would have something to kneel on.

"Boss, we don-" Some of the goons attempted to leave. 

"Anyone who leaves, dies. Clear?" Jason said unbuckling his pants. Y/N settled her mouth around his dick. She started slowly by wrapping her tongue around him as he pushed deeper into her mouth. Jason was careful not to push her head because he knew that she hated that. 

"You see how she barely gags. It took her almost a year, but I'm so glad I can face fuck her how I want. Did you fuckers think that I would let you have this treat? My perfect girl," Jason began to slowly thrust into her mouth more and more quickly. He was sure to make a show to his men of how well Y/N could take him into her mouth. 

"Such a good girl for me," Jason touched her cheek and her eyes began to water. Drool began to fall from her lips as she bobbed back and forth.

"Don't cry, you're doing such a good job, my pretty girl," Jason said wiping away two fallen tears. His face flushed as he became closer and closer to his climax. When he did finish in her mouth, he gave Y/N no warning but she swallowed anyway. Jason made sure to have a good diet when he found out that what he ate affected his taste. Y/N preferred him to have a sweet taste over salty.

"And she swallows," Jason said pulling out of her mouth.

"Jason," Y/N whined as she stood up. 

"Are you wet for me?" Jason asked as Y/N sat back on the mahogany desk. 

"Yes," She said spreading her legs open slightly. She had forgotten that she was in front of a group of people. In all honesty, she didn't really care because all she craved was Jason in the present moment. 

"Will you let me fuck you in front of them?" Jason asked standing in between her legs. He tilted her chin upwards so that she was looking directly at her. Communication was big between the two of them. 

"Please, Jason," She said as her hands began to slip down so that she could touch herself. Her back was turned to her audience so they couldn't see how wet she truly was. Y/N was practically dripping on the wooden desk. A few of the goons stood on their tippy toes as a way to attempt to see what was going on. Some of the others closed their eyes and tried to imagine her pussy as the sounds of her playing with her clit echoed throughout the office. 

"Oh, my girl is kinkier than I thought. On my lap. Billie read me our financials," Jason took his seat in his large leather chair and Y/N straddled him. He looked directly into her eyes and she knew that meant to ride him. 

"Sir?" Billie squeaked. He didn't know whether to be horny or scared.

"The financials, now, Billie," Jason commanded his eyes not leaving Y/N once. Her moans began to fill the room and Billie was somewhat confused but opened his manila folder. 

"Right, of course. The third quarter has abo-" He was cut off by Y/N moans getting louder. Y/N was lifting her hips as fast as she could. She was chasing her high and Jason was nothing but her toy at the moment.

"Did I say stop?" Jason said peaking around Y/N. Billie found it hard for him to focus with his boss' hands fondling a woman's breasts in front of him. Billie continued trying to read his reports over the sounds of Y/N's pussy and her moans. Y/N almost shrieks as she finishes on Jason's lap.

"Everyone out. Take this as a warning," Jason spoke as Y/N leaned into the crook of his neck. He began to rub her back as she shuddered. 

"You did such a good job, baby," Jason whispered in her ear. He began to trace her spine as she sat naked in his lap. Everyone had filed out of the office by now and it was just them sitting quietly.

"Mhm," Y/N mumbled. She was tired but wanted to stay awake with him.

"Go ahead and take a nap. I'll clean you up," Jason said as he walked through the secret door in his office that led to their bedroom. 

"Really?" Y/N asked with a smile and dopey eyes. 

"Yeah, I'll take care of you," Jason promised as he always did. 

"Okay," Y/N yawned and reached for her scarf from the nightstand.

"I love you," Jason whispered as he cleaned Y/N up. She didn't respond because she was already snoring and Jason snorted. He loved her dearly and always would. 

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hey, is it alright if I put in a request for a yandere Connor, nines, and 60? Specifically, them falling over the same human? I'm not sure what the reader would do to get a frankly suspicious amount of connors into them. Maybe they can be.. An artist or something, that supports the revolution? (Also, if you could add some non-con in there, i'd die but like in a good way) thanks!

(Dark, manipulation, non con/rape, vaginal fingering, abuse of power, overstimulation, afab!reader)

(Yandere!Connor, Nines, Sixty x reader)

Biological

AU where Connor, Nines, and Sixty all work at the DPD. Connor gets adopted by hank and is now Officially Connor Anderson AND he's captain of the police force

Up until now, you always thought Officer Nines hated you.

You aren't a cop. And you consider yourself unqualified to hold anything above a water gun. Regardless, your work rehabilitating androids requires you to visit the precinct often: gathering evidence for abuse, and testimonials from victims. Anything you can get your hands on to ensure the client your boss takes on will get the help they need.

It'd make sense that you'd get recognized eventually. Officer Chen greeted you with a simple head nod these days. Detective Sixty was a little more crude, preferring you call you petty nicknames with a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

Captain Anderson ("Conner," he'd insisted on so many times, his LED spinning a pleasant blue, "Just Conner is fine") would be more friendly. The RK800 models may look the same but no one ever mistook one for the other. Captain Anderson was kind, the only one of the models to take on a more human name. Whenever you stayed at the precinct a bit longer than you were comfortable with, he often volunteered to walk you to your car.

But Officer Nines just stared. Eyes tracing your footsteps until you were out of his view and even then you would feel it. He had to dislike you, you always thought, there's no way he couldn't.

At least, that's what you assumed until his lips met yours in the darkness of a closet.

"Pay attention." Detective Sixty's harsh voice broke through your head. He was here too. Between all the chaos, your struggle, you'd stopped to notice two sets of hands had grabbed you into the tiny room, shutting the door as soon as you stumbled through.

"Humans can't see when the light is so low," Officer Nines mused. He had moved to your neck now, tasting your skin. A large hand was covering your mouth, most likely because you screamed too loudly for their taste.

"It's instinct to be scared," the way he spat out the word felt so condescending and spitful. As though he were looking down on you. In a way, it made sense. Who were you compared to metal and wires?

In the end, his argument helped you. The lights flickered on, letting you finally see them. Nines was at your front, his synthetic hair brushed against your jaw. Sixty's hands were gripped along your waist, traveling longer and longer.

You didn't want to think what this was.

"Officers?" your voice was a squeak, barely a sound, "Please what's going-"

Nines' teeth scrapping over your neck makes you snap your mouth shut, curling into yourself. He's the opposite of biology, but his tongue feels so animalistic on your skin, leaving a wet trail. You tremble in their hold. Sixty gives a mean laugh.

"Come on, you can't be that stupid, can you?" He huffs in your ear, nibbling on it, making you jolt, "The big guy here has always wanted a taste. You'll be nice enough to give him one, yes?"

Nines gives a noise of disapproval, pulling back to watch you. You've never seen his gaze so soft before. Hands wipe the tears on your face.

"As if you weren't more desperate," Nines hums, affectionately kissing the corner of your mouth when you start shivering, "You'd still be following around like a lovesick puppy."

Sixty huffs at that, muttering something you can't pick apart.

It's not quite a smile, but Nines' eyes look satisfied when he kisses you again, exploring your mouth with the same softness. It makes sense why. They're not human. You can't hurt them, no matter what they do to you.

Sixty proves it by catching both of your wrists, pinning them behind you as he continues to shuck off your pants, revealing your cotton panties.

Nines pulls away when you start begging again, more delirious, more desperate.

"Don't-don't-" you can barely spit them out, the terror sinking into your tone, "I-I don't-"

He hushes you. It's not quite a frown on his porcelain face, but it's enough to depict how unsatisfied he was with your behavior.

"Don't worry," he says, low, almost like he aims to comfort you, "it's simply biological for humans to enjoy sex."

He says it so flippantly, as though it was a fact. The sky is blue. Fire is hot. They were going to fuck you and you were going to like it.

You flinch when he goes to touch you again, a hand trailing down your neck.

"Looks like this one doesn't like you anymore," Sixty sniggers, palming your ass through your panties, "maybe you should step out. Let us have some alone time."

Nines gives a full frown that time. His disapproval bleeds into his actions.

Nines is a lot less gentle on your clothes. The button-up you were wearing is no match for his strength. You yelp when he rips it open, buttons fly and bounce away. You're pushed further into Sixty's hold, something the Detective readily accepts.

Lithe fingers delve underneath your panties, busying themselves with your pussy. You twitch under his hold. Already your body reacts, despite your disgust, your fear, your dignity.

It's simply biological for humans to enjoy sex.

They were wrong. You didn't enjoy this. You didn't fucking want this. You opened your mouth, fully intent on screaming. Were any of the officers still here? Captain Anderson often kept a late schedule, right?

A hand clamped down on your neck, causing your voice to stagger, stop. Despite your fear, common sense kicks in. Nines would have no problem snapping your neck if you provoked him.

A single look from him is all you need to curl in on yourself. Your will to fight leaves as soon as it arrives. You sink back into his hold.

"See?" Sixty croons in your ear, finding your clit, "Doesn't it feel better when you just give in?"

You sob, it's a pathetic whimper, barely getting out of your throat. Despite your clear struggle, your body gives up immediately. You can feel your pussy grow wet as Sixty continues his assault on your clit.

You gasp when he finds your pussy, one finger pushing into your sopping hole as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. There's a hint of pain, and then Nines kisses you again. It feels like a distraction. It feels like a punishment. Somehow, it ends up being both.

By now, his fingers have left your neck. He grasps your bra, pulling the cups down to squeeze your tits. There's a skillful push of Sixty's fingers, and then you're moaning into Nines' mouth.

"Such a pretty body," Nines sighs when he parts when your lips. He glances down, flicking at your nipple, watching as they harden under his attention. "So reactive as well."

You hiss, arching your back as Sixty delves a second finger, positioning them deep inside you.

"Oh, you're close, aren't you?" Sixty sneers. "I can feel it."

You shake your head, but it'd be nothing but a lie. You can feel yourself slowly tipping over the edge.

When you come, it's nothing but devasting. Smashing you on the ground, shattering you. The only reason you don't collapse is because Sixty hadn't stopped moving inside you, yet.

Your pleas change, begs for him to stop because it hurts now. Sixty pays you no mind. He's more focused on the android in front of you, the one who watched your orgasm with haunting blue eyes.

"Well, big guy?" He asks, pulling his fingers out, "You said you wanted a taste, right?"

He doesn't waste a second, dropping to his knees. Every part of Nines is inhuman, his mouth especially. You keen at the temperature when his tongue dives into your folds. So hot, almost burning.

Nines eats you out like a man starved. He's pulled the panties off of you, the scrap of fabric abandoned on the floor. It's wet, messy, but the overwhelming pleasure of it forces you to toss your head back against Sixty's shoulder, whispering out your pleas through stilted moans. He plays the good cop this time, humming praises and coos into your neck, until you're cumming for the second time.

Nines relents when your thighs are shaking, close to giving out entirely. When he lifts himself up, he's wiping his lips away with the back of his hand. He doesn't break eye-contact with you, not as he starts unbuckling his pants because why would you think they'd stop at just ruining you?

The door swings open, catching all three of you off guard. Nines reacts the quickest, covering your mouth before you can scream. You can only stare into the Captain's brown eyes.

He really does look like Sixty when he's frowning. So far, you've only seen him giving soft smiles.

He's out of his uniform. That should have been your first sign.

"Gentlemen," he says, eyeing both Sixty and Nines before his gaze lands on you. His LED spins yellow. You can't even imagine what he's thinking. That his two best officers could do this.

And yet, the evidence is right in front of him.

"Cap'," Sixty responds.

That should have been your second sign. How casual they were about being found out.

"You're late." Nines says and you suddenly have this horrible thought that you weren't about to be saved.

Captain Anderson lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

"You were always much more impatient than you let on," he chides, brown eyes raking over your heaving body, "some of us had work to do. Why do you think no one heard you despite the recuss you all made?"

Nines lowers his hand from your mouth. Sixty leans into your ear. "He means you." He whispers but you can only stare at the Captain, his soft face, unassuming features.

You flinch at the hand caressing your cheek, but Captain Anderson doesn't bother. He traces a finger across your face, gently collecting the tears.

"Have they been nice to you?" Connor asks as though he can't see himself, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get here before. I'll stop them if they go to far again."

You can feel Sixty's grin slice into your neck. Above you, Nine's is muttering something. You can't focus on any of it. It's all mush, sludge as the Captain's face remains eerily soft.

You must have forgotten. These weren't deviant androids.

They were rotten men.

"Captain-"

"I keep telling you over and over again," he sighs. The door shuts behind him. He smiles.

You think the worst part is his LED: A circling, calm blue.

"Call me Connor."

[ddarker-dreams]

Guide to Surviving the Yan Harbingers.

Play nice with Columbina, but not too nice. There’s a happy medium that she wants you to situate yourself in. On one hand, it would displease her greatly if you were to ever clearly express your distaste. Still, it would ruin her fun if she acted like a totally lifeless doll. She delights herself in seeing the frustration dancing within your eyes. The way that you seethe internally, acting oh so hard to keep it together in the face of such dire circumstances. In a most innocent tone, she’ll ask provocative questions crafted to make you stumble. Isn’t Scaramouche so impossible to please? Dottore an amalgamation of ego that you’re forced to endure? Columbina knows that by phrasing it like an inquiry, social etiquette will urge you to respond in some way, and forces you into a waltz where the tempo is always off. She adores the way you dance for her. Don’t worry, she’ll stop you before you say anything too damning; if you get in trouble with the others, it means she won’t get to see you as often...

Don’t flinch at the cold kiss of metal caressing your skin upon Sandrone’s prompting. She settles for nothing less than perfection when it comes to her work. When it’s her turn to have possession over you, you’ll be invited into a workshop that few if no one else has ever seen; discarded mechanical limbs littering the floor that you must step over. The creations lying within might look familiar, she tells you. And indeed they do. Atop a crudely shaped torso, with frayed wires poking out from what should be the shoulder socket if traditional anatomy was observed, is a head boasting unblinking eyes the same shade as yours. It’s a work in progress — a love letter to her favorite muse. A croaking voice box whirrs to life within the hollow husk, staccato-like syllables stringing together as the machine says it wants to be just like you. Sandrone claims her little project has been begging to feel your skin as of late. You’ll let it, won’t you? 

Know that if you reciprocate Signora’s affection in full, you might just get burned. Ice is not always meant to be thawed and she is proof of that. You stoke embers within her that she long thought were locked away by the Tsaritsa’s gift, and in doing so, unwittingly place yourself in danger. Signora knows her accursed physiology well enough to sense this. Hence why she treats you with such biting apathy. You are to sit quietly in her presence so she can retain control over herself. If she’s in a good enough mood, you’ll be allowed to entertain yourself with books or other silent hobbies. Still, despite the precautions, her gaze always ends up drawn to you. She’ll part her lips, considering possibilities too good to be true. Thoughts of having you brush through her hair or humming the music she heard in better days of her life tempt her. When you meet her eyes, her face hardens, and she asks who permitted you to do such a thing. Signora learned from her past that feeding the flames never ends well. 

Exercise the utmost obedience with Arlecchino. Her commands are absolute and meant to be followed to the letter, even if they make your life more difficult in the process. She’d rather not acknowledge that the others — underserving as they are — hold any sway over you. To do so would surely stir up strife. She orders you to take off Pantalone’s many adornments in her presence, to scrub your skin raw until Signora’s noisome perfume no longer permeates your skin. This inevitably leads to problems anyway, with you at the unfortunate center. Arlecchino has you traipsing across a tightrope to satisfy her wishes. She firmly believes that you’re wasted on the others. If she had total control over you, she knows she could make not only herself happy, but you as well. In fits of frustration, she’ll tell you that they put so little consideration into your wellbeing. You wonder if she’ll ever examine her own actions with such scrutiny. 

Seek out Scaramouche even when he acts like he wants nothing to do with you. It was almost a relief the first time he shooed you away — in your naivety, you thought you’d get a well-deserved break from dealing with these impossible creatures. When you actually went to dismiss yourself, it soured his mood for the rest of the day. No, this isn’t what he wants, you realized as your fingers hovered over the doorknob. He wants you to fight back. Tactfully, of course, it wouldn’t do for you to backtalk openly. It flatters him greatly when you persist in staying with him, despite his persistent prickliness. Say that if it pleases him, you’d love nothing more than to spend just a few more minutes in his presence, should he be gracious enough to the grant privilege. He’ll make a big show of sighing and making it seem as if he’s begrudgingly accepting your request. If you insist, he’ll tell you. You can tell you’ve done well by the grin he’s barely able to suppress.

School your facial expressions in the presence of Dottore, who doesn’t take kindly to any perceived criticism of his dubious morality. While you’re only able to comprehend a fraction of his mad lectures, what he speaks of disturbs and chills you to the bone, keeping you away at night as if someone was holding your eyelids open. However, he doesn’t want another critic. He wants you to be left in awe over his uncontested intellectual prowess. It must make the minds of his cohorts look dull in comparison, he figures. A transcendent mind such as his has got to earn your admiration. Dottore feels you’re his cute little pupil. When you appear confused by the depth of his designs, expect him to cling to your side even longer, he won’t be content until you sufficiently understand. This is more of an excuse to talk to you longer, especially since your attention is always in high demand. 

Always wear the gaudy gifts that Pantalone insists on bestowing you. Not only must you pretend to be grateful for the displays of profligacy, but you must act excited too. It's enough to antagonize what few shards of pride you have left to cling to. He’ll clasp necklaces around you that feel tighter than a noose, set crowns on your head so heavy with the burden of their jewels it becomes a struggle to look anywhere but the ground. You’re cursed to feel his presence even in his absence. It’s a bitter reminder that at this point, the only thing you’re missing is a collar. The others share your opinion and are free to voice their dissent while you must bite your tongue almost hard enough to bleed. Signora says something daintier that complements your complexion would be better, whereas Scaramouche longs to rip the ostentatious ornaments from you entirely. Pantalone just chuckles and says it’s your decision. Don’t you like his gifts? Always nod when he asks you this.

Be wary of accepting Childe’s supposed sympathy, for he is just as guilty in your subjugation. The best actor is one who makes you forget you’re watching a play. As a mere member of the audience, it is never your place to express dislike of the script, no matter how much the characters on stage oppress you. Childe sets himself up to be your favorite by playing your advocate. He’s not against your suffering, so long as he gets to be the balm that makes it all better. He affirms the thoughts you hold prisoner in your mind, for if you were to speak them, there’d be hell to pay. Makes jokes about how creepy Sandrone’s predilections are or how impossible it is for you to please Signora. Not him, however, he promises that there’s no need to be so on guard in his presence. It’s so tempting to buy into it. You’d do well to remember he is not the ally he portrays himself to be, he’s every bit of an enemy to your self-interest as the others. 

[azurlily]

Dont ask just read, this is what a bored and horny mind can come up with. Yes, this woman needs a name so for now we will call her LSM. What does that stand for? Lets find out together. Completely UNEDITED.

Lesbian Sugar Mommy

You had a daily schedule, a routine. You followed this routine everyday for years. For years. So you being poor as hell at only 24, being barely able to afford food and rent. It was an all time low for you, and an embarrassing one at that. Recently your friend recommends you try a sugar dating app. At first you thought it was stupid, but mulled it over and remembered how broke you were. You made a profile and it took a couple days before you matched with a woman. At first you were incredibly awkward when texting and felt embarrassed. She seemed like the kindest woman you've ever met. She understood you and was better than any man or woman you had previously dated.

You were honestly pretty enamored with her, she has dark green eyes. Like a forest green, god they're beautiful, and you swear they change color depending on what she's wearing. Her hair is long and dark, contrasting her lightly tan skin. Her hair is slightly curly, definitely not straight. In the many pictures she's sent you, you notice all her nails are perfect manicured, but two on each finger have been cut down completely. You didn't bother asking, weren't a virgin or stupid, simply poor. You two began talking a bit more about finances after a couple weeks. She listened to you talk about your financial situation, how you could barely keep a roof over your head. By the end of your two and a half hour conversation, you found yourself being wired $10,000. It wasn't as if it was out of nowhere considering what the conversation was, but it was surprising. LSM had said she wanted to give you a bit of money to keep you going for the month. She had not said she was give 10,000 fucking dollars! You didn't know what to do with the money. Other than pay your bills and let the rest sit.

For a couple days you were worried she'd want it all back, but no, instead she asked if you wanted more.

"Well I didn't give you that much...so I'm just making sure it's enough. I can give you plenty more, sugar."

You had reassured her it was enough, much more than enough. In the following days you were finding her flirting with you more, being more straightforward. You blushed everytime she made a crude joke, but you almost wished it was a statement.

When LSM had asked if you wanted to have dinner at her place you agreed. You wondered how the night would go, if you would fuck up and she'd be mad. You hoped the night went as well as possible, and if not, that she'd at least tell you.

The night went a lot of different ways. At first she was playing the kind and gracious host, then she was flirting with you. Finally you had both drank a little too much of her expensive red wine, and she fucked you against her king size bed.

You dont remember the first little bit, but you certainly remember how your night ended. Well not all of it, that woman has the sex drive of a beast. She continued until she couldn't, until you couldn't walk and she couldn't see straight. If nothing else; your legs will remember this until you die.

"Good morning sugar, how are you feeling? I hope I wasn't too rough on you, although I can't say it was entirely my fault. You kept begging me to keep going, and who am I to deny you?"

You whined, talking hurt, and you couldn't move without some part of your body below your waist hurting. You sit up just a enough and look at yourself in your phone mirror. Oh she knew exactly what she was doing, theres a massive bite mark on your shoulder. Everywhere else there's hickeys, like they're changing color.

"Before you get mad- please look at my back!"

She turned and you saw large scratch marks running down her back. From her shoulders to her ass, you can also see quite the array of bites on her shoulder. One looks like it was actually bleeding. Your reaction must be funny because she's laughing like crazy. She gently cups your face and kisses your lips.

"So pretty. My girl is so pretty arent you? Mommy's little girl."

You just laid in her arms for a while, letting her talk about whatever she wanted. You were tired and her touch made you weak. You began thinking about your job, did you have to call in to work today? Were you working today? You asked LSM, but she just smiled and shook her head.

"You wont need your job anymore, at least not this one. I've already sent your monthly allowance over to you. You can quit that job anytime, it'll give you more time for me."

Monthly allowance? You pulled away to check your bank account. Sure enough she had transferred over $40,000.

You stared at the number for a moment a then looked back at her. You assumed she was some sort of big millionaire, but now that you're looking around. Really looking. You dont want to know what this woman does for a living.

"Pay no mind sugar, now come here. I'll have someone bring breakfast and we can stay in bed all day!"

[sombrashe]

Perception Check Failed

Starlight Part 1

content established relationship, comfort, reader doesn't know what a crush is, heavy kissing

note(s) this is part 1 of a 2 part mini story but can be read as it’s own standalone story

Walking through the ruins of an old building you kicked up anything shiny. Noticing a pattern you determine you wouldn't get anything more than a few empty cans. Sighing you packed up what few cans you could salvage from the soot. Lucy was a few buildings down and you decide to meet up with her. Walking out of the husk you take a sharp left and keep as close to the buildings as possible ready to turn into an alleyway if needed. After a few minutes, you come to Dogmeat sitting patiently outside a still-standing building. Giving her a quick scratch behind the ears you enter the house. The doors are wide open, giving you the perfect view inside. Going room to room you see where Lucy had to exterminate some of the larger bugs plaguing the wasteland. It’s a nice spot. A few rooms surround an open-concept living room with a half-burned kitchen making up the downstairs. Cautiously you scale up the steps and make your way into a large open room with shards of furniture taking up most of the space. Calling out you watch as Lucy sticks her head out from behind a pile of bed frames with a smile lighting up her face.

“Lookie what I found,” She shoves her hand in the air showing off a small bag. “It’s a bag of stimpacks.”

Grinning you hurry over to her hiding spot. Taking the bag, you laugh as you take in the small pile of health. There are about five from what you can see and you gently trace your fingers over a red wire. Tying the bag up you shove it into Lucy’s open pack. She dusts off her hands and slings the pack over her shoulder.

“Not much in this neighborhood, it’s too close to where the bombs dropped.”

“Yeah, I only found a few cans. Thought we could string them together as a noise trap.”

She agrees and follows you down the steps and into the living room. Pausing you take in the clean state of the home. All the furniture had been moved upstairs so that left the rooms nice and empty. Chewing on your bottom lip you think about how much better this house would be.

“What if we stayed here for the night? Actually, stay inside a place for once?”

“We can see how everyone feels. You know Cooper would hate it. He prefers the great outdoors.” She mimics his accent for the last bit and causes both of you to laugh at the idea. You both walk side by side back the few miles to your small camp. You're happy to report nothing major happened on your way back. Going through the minuscule amount of things you brought back you decide now is as good a time as any to bring up your idea.

“I think we should stay in this house me and Luc found. It has plenty of rooms for each of us and it’s only a little ruined.”

You pause from shoving rope through crude holes to look up at the group. Maximus and Thaddeus immediately agree wanting to get out of the blistering heat and even more intense cold. Lucy and you agree alongside them which leaves four against two. Once he realizes it’s up to him and Cooper, Norm begrudgingly agrees.

“This ‘s a terrible idea, Wastelander. What if some’ne finds the place while y’all‘re sleepin’?”

“Maybe grow a backbone for once and actually help us out for once if you notice something?”

He scoffs and goes to continue with you when Lucy cuts him off.

“Okie Dokie, it seems like tensions are getting a little bit high so how about we all take a deep breath and think before we speak. Yeah?”

You take that deep breath, following her instructions as you glare heavily at Cooper. Completing the trap you shove it into your pack before hopping up.

”If we want to make it before sundown we have to go now.”

Making sure everyone was on the same page you start the trek back to the husk of a neighborhood. The miles are spent with Cooper feet away from the rest of the group and everyone paired with a duo. You’re glued to Norm’s hip as you keep a hand wrapped around his forearm. A few weeks ago he woke up almost like a new person. He stopped wearing his fear of the surface on his face and started holding himself with a little more confidence. When you first met he was timid and kept himself as tidy as possible. Always brushing his hair and trying to get it to lay perfectly against his forehead. Now he allows it to hang freely giving him a relaxed appearance. That plus the facial hair that naturally grew along his bottom and top lip have you eating out of the palm of his hand. You already knew you liked him from the first moment you laid eyes on him, but this was something different. Instead of burning in your face when he was near your stomach started to twist and knot every time he tried talking to you. You didn't quite understand why the sudden change but you made sure to keep him updated. Thick streaks of orange and pink fill the sky as you come upon your home for the evening. Entering the building you smile as everyone starts to claim rooms. Thaddeus takes the smallest opposite the kitchen, Lucy and Maximus take the room beside the staircase, and Cooper promises to stay in the living room ‘just in case’. That leaves the last room for you since Norm is suddenly offering to room with Thaddeus.

”What are you talking about? I assumed we would share a room.”

His face shows his signature nothingness and he wordlessly walks into the last empty room. You follow after him confusion written on your face. You think he might be mad at you but you can't think of the why. Clicking the door shut you're lucky that no big chunks are missing so you can speak freely.

“Are you mad at me?”

Your voice is soft like he was capable of snapping. Maybe he is, you determine, not like you’ve ever seen it firsthand. Now it’s his turn to mimic confusion as he looks back at you.

“I thought you were mad at me. You barely speak to me and when you do you won’t look me in the eyes. I assumed you didn't want to be with me right now so I was going to sleep in another room. To give you space.”

Your face heats up as he puts the pieces together for you. Oh. You were the one being distant. You let the bloodworms in your stomach get the better of you.

“It’s my stomach. Every time I get near you it starts to twist. Like when I ate that bad box of mac & cheese but without... everything else. It hurts to be close to you. I can’t look at you because your lips make my ears burn and when you laugh it makes me feel sick.”

“Sounds like you have a crush.”

“Crush? Like I should crush something to make it go away? Will that work?”

“No. A crush like you like someone. You want to be with them.”

“If I wanted to be with you why does it hurt so badly?”

“I don’t know. It’s something weird our bodies do. I feel the same way when I’m near you.”

Your ears perk up at his confession. This is perfect. If he feels the same way then it must be normal. You wonder if Lucy and Max feel the same way about each other. Allowing your pack to fall to the floor you smile as you take out a worn blanket. When Norm escaped the vault his pack carried an extra sleeping bag and you were grateful that tonight was your night with it. Sheepishly you shove your bag next to his. Standing up straight you dive back into your pack hoping he has no objections. Removing the rope of metal cans from inside you exit the room to tie up the front door. Using the holes in the sloped roof you tie up the cans. Taking a step back you admire your work before nodding.

Turning you go to return to your room hoping to get some sleep. Instead, you're stopped by the rumble in your stomach as Lucy comes out with an unopened pack of crams. Smiling she holds up the food and gathers everyone to the main room. Happily sitting down the sounds of human hunger fill the room as she hands out the containers. There are six in the pack and everyone agrees to shill some out in a small pile on the floor for Dogmeat. Norms finds a spot next to you and he ends up sitting so close that your plush thigh is squished against his toned one. Cracking open your cram you spoon some out for the pup before digging in yourself. You're all finished within minutes not a word spoken as you ate. Only the soft sounds of chewing fill the room. When you’re finished you set the can off to the side alongside the rest. Dancing your fingers over Norm’s knee you rise and start for your room. Your stomach feels better now that you have peace of mind. The pain is still there but much more manageable. Entering your shared room you hear the door click behind you and you turn to see Norm looking you over.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

You give him a warm smile, “Yeah. My stomach hurts a lot less. Maybe I was just hungry.”

You let out a laugh but don’t miss the flash of discomfort that covers his face. Even if only a second it causes your stomach to bubble as you go to apologize. He waves you off with a tiny curl of the corners of his mouth. Walking past you he starts to go through his pack. You notice he placed your single blanket over your sleeping bags. Smiling you think about how nice it’s going to be sleeping next to someone with an actual roof over your head for once. Pointing to the side-by-side bags you speak louder than necessary.

“One of those is mine, right?”

He looks at you quizzically and gives you a short laugh. “Yeah? You put it there. The blanket is just for extra warmth.”

You smile and drag your bag to rest beside the bag. Normally a lumpy makeshift pillow but you know it’s better than sand in your ears. Tonight on the other hand you have a relatively clean wooden floor to rest your head on. Possibly even a warm body. You feel heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Instead of dwelling on the feeling you pull your armor and weapons off and place them in a neat pile next to your pack. Next is your outer clothes, A few tops and a pair of jeans get folded neatly behind your bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting undressed. If I’m sleeping inside four walls I’m going to do it comfortably. Why? Does this bother you? Should I put my shirt back on?”

A shake of his head and he starts to follow your lead. His vault suit and tank top is removed leaving him in a pair of briefs. Fuck. He doesn't have your raw muscle mass, but his body is lean and healthy and it causes your entire face to burn feverishly. You can’t stop staring. He notices and moves his hands showing himself off. This movement causes you to snap out of your stupor. Quickly yanking your head up you make eye contact with Norm.

“You like what you see?”

“I was staring.”

“I know. You can. If I can do the same.”

You allow your eyes to drift down and nod slowly. You don’t mind him staring at you and it allows you to take in his figure some more. Your mind starts to wander and you're left hugging yourself around the middle as you think about all the things you want to do.

“Can we kiss? I want to feel you.”

Your voice comes out stronger than you anticipated. Luckily it works in your favor and he opens his arms wider giving you an invitation to come closer. You do, taking a few normal steps towards him even if your body feels like a leaf in a radstorm. When you're right in front of him you waste no time in cupping his cheeks and pulling him close. Pressing soft lips together you move in sync. You’re a little more awkward than his confident movements but they work in tandem. One hand leaves his cheek to squeeze at his bicep. His hands decide the best place to be is on your wide hips. He squeezes at the slightly exposed flesh there, using his position to raise your tank top higher so he can get more of your flesh between his fingers. You sigh into his mouth as you press your chest closer to his. Darting your tongue out you rub the tip against his bottom lip. He obliges and opens his mouth enough for you to explore it with your tongue. You do for a few moments, feeling the ridges of his teeth with the flat part of your tongue. You feel how his nose flares against your cheek as he angles his head downwards. After a few moments of panting and touching you force yourself to pull away.

“Wow.”

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[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

i 

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually. 

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment. 

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas. 

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm. 

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried. 

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash. 

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door. 

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver. 

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root. 

ii 

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside. 

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door. 

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands. 

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself. 

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration. 

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair. 

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists. 

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep. 

“Good work, detective.” 

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank. 

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile. 

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?” 

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.” 

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body. 

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?” 

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.” 

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide. 

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him. 

“What?” She whispered. 

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly. 

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.  

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase. 

“Who are you?” She growled. 

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information. 

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly. 

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him. 

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief. 

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room. 

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Crane nodded, “good girl.” 

iii 

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood. 

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head. 

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her. 

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded. 

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface. 

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her. 

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug. 

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded. 

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.” 

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled. 

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.” 

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.” 

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes. 

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door. 

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her. 

 She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.” 

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?” 

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door. 

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car. 

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek. 

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.” 

iv 

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information. 

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder. 

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles. 

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers. 

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?” 

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced. 

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond. 

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved. 

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.” 

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.” 

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech. 

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair. 

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused. 

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum. 

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back. 

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt. 

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on. 

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called. 

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof. 

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over. 

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure. 

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic. 

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge. 

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”  

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline. 

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head. 

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.” 

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone. 

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him. 

v 

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall. 

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes. 

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising. 

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands. 

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan. 

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel. 

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe. 

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high. 

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!” 

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. 

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.” 

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away. 

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self. 

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head. 

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded. 

“Show me where to go.” 

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly. 

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically. 

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed. 

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back. 

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked. 

“As you wish.” 

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen. 

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath. 

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded. 

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants. 

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.” 

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks. 

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear. 

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered. 

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. 

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.” 

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.” 

vi 

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed. 

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider. 

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life. 

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle. 

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city. 

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear. 

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster. 

“Why? What happened?” 

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car. 

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.” 

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets. 

“To my father’s house.” 

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive. 

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it. 

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator. 

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.” 

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane… 

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction. 

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors. 

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear. 

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away. 

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well. 

“Yes.”

[sstardustt3]

ben drowned general hcs ☆

@pink_halley on insta for ben drowned art

II tags II Ben being a little shit II Ben being a troll II Ben and Nina being gossip whores II mentions of sally, Nina, Jeff, ej, Spamton from deltarune, ena from ena by Joel j II no nsfw ||

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Ben because he’s is a virus has no actual age and can alter his appearance as he wishes

He has the worst mood swings especially if the electricity is sucky which makes him sick

He is the most annoying chronically online mf you will ever meet and he knows what he’s doing too but rarely is he being annoying to other pastas and it’s mostly just people on twitter 

He has gotten into multiple arguments and doxing wars with barbs and k-pop stans over him trolling them

He rarely loses arguments but if he does or they just really piss him off he’ll basically just haunt them and scare them to the point they never log onto twitter again and he thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

Despite him having a  dirty and crude sense of humour he thinks romance and anything to do with that is gross

He has gotten into multiple fights with toby on online video games and twitter

He is the  definition of an angsty 13 year old he hates literally everyone with a few exceptions

He’s is an extremely messy person, a shit starter if you will. Which is why he likes nina, he gets to know drama and mess and he uses it to his advantage

He has fun annoying people to the point they get enough to try and kill him which is why he has a love hate relationship with ej because he has grown to have enough emotional self control not to hurt ben, 

On one hand ben’s offended by this, on the other hand it excites him and motivates him to be his most obnoxious teenage boy self,

 that being said he has gotten close to ej wanting to actually hurt him

Him and jeff bully kids on roblox. I have no further explanation on that

Ben and sally have a sibling relationship

“Thats a child.”

“And thats an ugly pimply bitch.”

Thats it thats all i have to say about that one i didn’t know how to fit that in there but i did and that’s all that matters 

 Ben hates heat because it overstimulates his senses and causes him to glitch out and he physically can not stand being without some sort of fan or ac

Adding onto the thing about him glitching it’s kinda like ena (pls watch ena if you haven’t it’s a work of art) with her mood swings and glitching 

Also if he’s like somewhere were it’s extremely hot he’ll just like completely shut off and will have to reboot

He hates cats and dogs mostly because they tend to chew on his wires and cause him to short circuit which makes his process of infecting people slower

he reminds me of spamton from deltarune and because of this in my mind he talks like spamton

[opluffys]

Mentor + Mentee-

-second part-

somethin quick, this was posted to my archive first as usual. pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. enjoy!!! :)

tags- thigh riding, vaginal sex, creampie, rough sex, toxic relationship, fem reader.

3.5k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-nsfw/smut-

Hanging up and tossing the heavy wired phone onto your desk, you groaned in pure exasperation. The paperwork on your desk seemed endless, the monotonous and drab of black ink on bright white paper burning your irises, enforcing a migraine on you.

You've just gotten off the phone with, whoever the fuck, discussing the possibility of getting an assistant to help you with the excess of paperwork you've been filling out as of late. You were a doctor, your main job consisted of ensuring your patients didn't bleed out under your steady and careful hand. It was already hard enough, and now you had the added stress of the sneering stack of papers mocking you.

You clicked the ballpoint pen, bouncing your leg as the tip of the pen hit the paper, dark ink pooling and bleeding through the thin material. Your grip tightened just then, the bouncing of your leg increasing tenfold as your thoughts ran wild.

And as you continued to think, you remembered a crucial detail.

The Task Force, fuck, they're coming back today. From some mission, and you're sure Gaz told you all about it while you gave him a routine checkup, but for the life of you, you couldn't remember the main gist of it.

You didn't want to face them, face him.

•

Biting back a wail of pain as you removed the intravenous line from Soap's arm, you heard Gaz howl in laughter from the spare cot he rested on. Which had garnered him an angered stare by Soap.

"You're such a baby," Gaz laughed, turning on his side to stare right at both you and Soap.

"Fuck off." Soap gritted, hissing in agony as you continued to stitch up his lesion.

"You gonna make me?" He teased, his stare not faltering on Soap's. He glared at him, about to retaliate with his own quip before you proceeded to wipe his wound clean, the sterile stench of the antiseptic flooding your nostrils. He let out a muted scream, his good arm covering the top half of his face.

"Keep still, Johnny." You huffed, adjusting the surgical mask pulled over your features. Gaz seemed to be having a field-day at watching the scene unfold, a smug smile on his lips.

"Gaz, I can stop the morphine drip, you know." You hummed, a hidden smile of your own forming. He looked at you, a glint of fear striking his honey eyes. You held back the urge to laugh, you enjoyed teasing both of these boys in your office, and you knew the three of you were aware that you'd never do anything to bring them more pain.

"Sorry ma'am."

Now it was Soap's turn to laugh, and you discarded your surgical gloves while hearing the two hurl crude insults at one another. They provided decent white noise, and you'd take that over the deafening silence of your rampant thoughts whilst your pen danced elegantly over the various documents.

The two eventually quieted down, a tranquil silence over them as you watched the pain medication take effect on their bodies. Not even five minutes passed before you heard them snore loudly, all cuddled up into the scratchy hospital blankets.

It'd been a couple of days since the entirety of the Task Force had returned. You've only been treating Gaz and Soap, your full attention on them. Usually, you would treat them all, but you honestly didn't want to face Ghost one on one. So, to take some heat off of you, you asked another medic to tend to both Price and Ghost. Just so he didn't feel like you'd singled him out.

But, your attempts would be in vain.

•

Stretching and hearing your joints and ligaments pop in relief, you slumped over the desk, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you filed the last group of papers. Both Gaz and Soap had left your office today, thanking you for taking care of them (after raiding your lollipop drawer).

So, you sat alone, the small swooshes of air against your body feeling welcomed, the ceiling fan above creaking with every spin. All you'd have to do now was stamp the final line of the packet, ensuring you've read over the contents carefully, and then you were free. Free to run into the uncomfortable and ill-fitting confines of your bunk.

You were lost in the work, so much so you hadn't even noticed the hulking figure taking up most of the space within your office.

"You're avoidin' me."

You nearly shrieked in terror, almost developing a fatal case of tachycardia as you held your hand over your rapidly beating heart.

"What?" Part of you wasn't really surprised that Ghost had managed to sneak up on you, it was his job, after all.

"You're avoidin' me," He repeated, stepping closer to you in large and fluid strides.

"No, I'm not avoiding you. Don't be ridiculous." Yes, I am.

"Actin' all innocent on me," He was right across from you now, his large hands resting on the cheap and fake wood of your desk, hearing it creak under his weight, "we both know that's not the truth."

"It is." It isn't.

"Get up." He commanded, and you knew that tone, that authoritarian inside of him being twisted and used against you in a way that it shouldn't.

"I'm busy." Liar.

"I won't ask again."

You shuddered lightly, telling yourself that it was just because of the excessive air from the ceiling fan skating across your heated skin. But you knew such a thing was a falsified truth.

"What? What is so important that-"

"Come over here." He hushed you before you could even finish your sentence, seating himself on a sterilised and neatly prepped cot. It was all too familiar, to the point where that same damned familiar throbbing and heat was felt in between your legs.

Your legs shook, hesitating to even take a single step towards Ghost, your mind and body both telling you different things. It was tearing you apart in the most agonising and tortuous way.

Still, you'd made you way towards him, standing idly as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. A scowl formed on your lips, eyes flickering to his chilled demeanour. You hated how he was always so calm- so tranquil and at ease, like he wasn't feeling the same things you were, maybe because he's not, at least not for you.

"Sit." He spread his massive legs, indicating exactly where he'd wanted you. You listened wordlessly, taking a seat on his muscled thighs, your hands fisting into your scrubs.

"Make it quick," You huffed, now attempting to remove your uniform, "I have a lot to do." You sighed, fingers hooking at your waistband and pulling down, or at least you'd attempted to do so, being stopped by a harsh hand encapsulating both of your wrists.

He held your hip with his lone hand, beginning to slide you over the thick muscle of his thigh, hearing you gasp in shock. His eyes pierced your own, roughly continuing to move you atop him, the material of both your scrubs and panties against your clit overwhelming.

The both of you continued to stare at one another, your breath quickening as you felt that cursed familiarity of your orgasm creeping up on you with silent strides. Your hands were still stuck in Ghost's firm grasp, wanting nothing more than to grab at him, to pull his mask forward and kiss him like you'd perish without it. Without him.

Just thinking of such a scenario had you reeling, your hips jerking as you felt your clit being rubbed just by his thigh alone. The feeling of his as well as your uniform dragging against that sensitive nub making your mind go hazy.

As you felt your release become imminent, he stopped his movements, unshackling your hands from his grip. He hastily tore your uniform, something of which he'd only done when he was particularly angered. With you or his mission, you had no clue.

His cruel stare on you was discomforting, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat- something subhuman. Just a body to warm his cock, and how fitting your thoughts were- because he quickly slipped his own bottoms down, revealing his erect cock for a split second before burying himself inside of you.

Always so rushed, hurried and lacking any control. A crude opposition to him on the field.

You suppressed a high pitched moan, hands itching to touch him, to ground yourself against him and ride him until your thighs would burn akin to hellfire. He let out a deep grunt, his hand slapping the excess flesh at your ass, bouncing you atop him like you had been weightless.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were familiar with the fact that you were just Ghost's stress reliever. How he'd prowl into your office during the late hours to bend you over any surface and fuck you until muted screams left your lips.

For a while, you didn't mind it at all.

In actuality, you'd enjoyed such a thing. You felt an odd sense of honour swell in your chest, at the sole fact that he'd chosen you. He chose your body to hold onto, to whisper vile and cruel things in your ear, to grab at your body like that was all you were- a body. Void of a soul, a conscious, anything.

Being his personal fuck-doll had its ups and downs, where he'd make you orgasm more times than you could count, fucking you until you cried. But the polar opposite, of when he'd leave dark purples on your thighs, your hips, neck, fucking everywhere.

Like he was doing now.

You felt his hands roam around your softer body, catching at the fat of your hips, anchoring himself to you and bouncing you atop his thick and girthy cock with fervour. It was as if he didn't know the extent of his raw strength, already biting dark hues of purple into your soft and delicate skin.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body struggled not to slump forward, flush against his strong chest. You didn't touch him, you swore you wouldn't. He didn't deserve it. A pathetic little thing you told yourself, just so you didn't get attached, because there was nothing more you'd yearned for to hold him like a lover did. To wrap your arms around him and feeling him lovingly piston into you, to kiss your cheek tenderly while your wet insides squeezed him with a vengeful grasp.

It's all too late, anyway.

He stopped, grabbing your chin and watching as your eyes popped open in disillusion.

"Eyes on me," Low, accented tone gravelly as he commanded you.

How dare he, your eyes met his instantaneously. Watching intently as his platinum lashes rested on his zygoma for a millisecond before opening back up to look at you. To look into you, to pick you apart, seemingly, until you turned to nothing. An obedient creature glued to his side, aching knees and jaw being ignored as you served him, like the good little thing you were.

His strained sounds were heard, quiet groans and animalistic sounding grunts as he thrusted upwards, bashing into your womb again and again. It hurt so good and you fucking hated it. You hated how just sole eye contact alone would have you naked and pressed against his clothed chest, fat cock stretching your insides.

Fuck, you loved it.

You absolutely adored it, being stuffed full of him, his mushroom tip pressing flush against your womb. Loved the bruises, the blemishes he's caused. His markings, claiming you as his, his plaything. Like an infants grubby hands over a shiny new toy, slobbering all over it and showing everyone that it was theirs.

No, you'd repeat, whilst being lifted off of him, your hands linked with each other behind your back, before being brought back down to him. Heavy cock twitching inside your tight walls, slick coating his dick, veiny and big, always reaching new spots inside of you. Spots that had searing stars incandescently tug at your vision.

Conflicting emotions, a curse, something that'd have you lay awake at night. Lay in your own cot, or sat next to an ill patient. Thinking about him, wondering, perhaps he was thinking of you, too.

How laughable.

Your eyes wandered, the interminable connection of your irises to his inadmissible. His eyes were always so eloquent, nearly showing what he'd been thinking. You couldn't stand it. You enjoyed the mask, enjoyed not seeing his face, because then, it'd be that much more personal. He wouldn't be Ghost to you anymore, he'd be someone, someone more than just a bed warmer.

Would you, though?

He squeezed your hips, garnering your attention to him once more. His brows furrowed, a thin sheet of sweat encompassing the two of you. He continued to fuck into your slick heat, revelling in how you always took him so well, as he said. Drunk off of you alone, and it was one of those nights.

"Fuckin' made for me,"

Just a slip of the tongue.

But no, you took that and ran with it, lungs burning while your legs continued to sprint. Oh, how you wished that was the case. You were tethered to him for a single purpose, for him to empty himself into you, to lay you across the hospital cot and fuck you from the back, always feeling him so deep. A place where no other man could dare to traverse, could never reach, anyway.

Was it on purpose?

Moulding you to his shape, getting you accustomed (it was always impossible anyways, taking him) to his cock. To spite you when you settled down, found a man who would love you, who would care for you. He wouldn't be enough, because Ghost already left his mark.

You were knocked out of your thoughts, thankfully, when you felt his gloved fingers begin to rub tight circles into your clit. His eyes now studied where the two of you had been joined, watching as your greedy pussy would always desperately pull his girth back in for more, a pathetic beg, don't leave.

You suddenly wailed, your hands grabbing his broad shoulders for purchase as your body shook. Toes curling, back arching as your eyes etched shut, sparkly tears trailing down your heated cheeks. You came hard against him, your essence coating his cock as he fucked you relentlessly, low and deep growls rumbling through his chest. He cursed, feeling your velvety insides continuing to take him deeper inside, he's already giving it all to you but fuck, you want more, you want it all.

"Such a greedy little thing."

He always knew what you were thinking.

"Love when I fuck you like this, don't you?"

Yes, no, yes, no-

"When I fill you up, fuckin' love it, don't you," He groaned, throwing his head back as he buried himself deep within you, nearly invading the inside of your womb as his warm and thick seed filled you. Marking you so that no other man could ever- would ever, do something striking even to him. Such a cruelty, acting like you'd belonged to him. You didn't know what he'd looked like, only aware of his name from medical records.

"Always so good for me."

And you hated how that had been the unvarnished truth.

•

You stared at your hands, ungloved and bare. Soft, skilled, shaking.

Why?

You'd touched him, in a way you swore you wouldn't ever. You'd expected to be thrown off, to be looked at as scum, worse than such a thing.

It was an accident, you didn't mean to. You weren't thinking straight, it was unfeasible with him splitting you open atop his lap. You just needed to ground yourself against him, for fear of falling, pathetic excuses.

A rueful thing you'd been over the next days, your usual adept hands quivering and trembling as you'd treated some of your patients.

You heard the click of a door open, and your posture snapped up, glossy eyes searching for who entered your space.

A breath of relief as it had just been Price.

You snapped a fresh pair of gloves on, bright blue going well with your dark scrubs. You led him to a cleaned cot, asking him just what the problem had been.

"Nothin' much, love." You loathed yourself for how your heart desired him to call you more pet names. To fill in Ghost's shadow and take care of you, as the natural leader he was. You were sure he'd be excellent at doing so.

"Missed your stitches, though." He huffed, relaxing into the bed as you ran an intravenous line for him just in case.

You looked at him, a quizzical glint in your eye. "My medic didn't take good care of you two?" Just you-

"Oh, no, didn't mean it like that." He looked penitent, kind eyes trailing over you before returning back to your stare. "Just meant that you know me better, sweetheart."

It was the truth, you were the Task Force's doctor, after all. It was just an innocent compliment of how good of a physician you'd been. Yet, you felt dizzy, the room a pirouette as you forced yourself to become calm.

"I'll keep that in mind next time, Price." You smiled, motioning for him to lift his shirt to check his lesions and other deep gashes that required attention. Your medic had done a good job, stitching and sterilising his wounds. But, the stitches were beginning to loosen, and you didn't need the wound becoming infected.

Your touches on him were always solicitous on him, more so than the others. Your gloved fingertips gentle on his muscled body, your stare wrongfully looking at his abs, lower and lower to that mesmerising trail of h-

"Gaz and Soap again?" He questioned, his gruff voice shaking you.

You looked at him confused, before he nodded towards the empty jar of sweets. You hadn't even noticed, they must've done so when you were out of the room, those stealthy bastards.

"Had to be," You laughed, making a mental note to restock the jar, "sorry you didn't get one."

"S'alright love." He hummed, his striking blues closing as you redid the stitches over his abdomen, watching as his stomach twitched in response to your careful and airy touch.

You finished quickly, removing your gloves and tossing them in a spare bin. You questioned if he'd wanted the extra fluids and medication, but he'd declined, thanking you for patching him up.

You motioned to clean your station, grabbing the bag of saline fluid before it had popped open, spilling all over your top. You cursed in vexation, more angry at the lost supplies rather than your soiled uniform.

Price quickly was at your side, spare cloth in hand as he attempted to clean the saline from your scrubs. "It's fine," You said, not used to being so close to him. His scent was intoxicating, that hint of smoke already having you feel utterly addicted to his presence alone.

He brushed you off, offering his services as he continued to dry you off. The cloth caught on the neck of the scrubs, pulling the material just below your clavicle, just where that array of purple lay, unperturbed on your skin. He let out a rushed apology, fixing you to look decent, his demeanour so focused on you.

Normally, it was the other way around.

But it felt nice being the one taken care of, for once.

•

Tossing your uniform into the laundry, you felt nice in a new set of clothes. No longer being confined to scrubs, but instead a comfortable cotton outfit against you. You eyed yourself in the mirror, clicking your tongue in distaste. Dark rings of purple running around the underside of your eyes, looking as if you haven't slept in years. Hell, it felt that way, too.

You'd had a long day, full of monotonous paperwork, sobbing soldiers who had flooded your office, crying for their mothers, and the thoughts of both Ghost and Price so tiring. You were giddy to finally be able to curl up into your bunk, drifting off into a dreamless sleep before your day would repeat at dawn.

And that was exactly what you had planned to do, to forget the days contents and reset and rest for the next.

But there Ghost was, at your door and telling you something, his words lost on you as you stared at him, balaclava pulled securely in place. Your eyes were fixed on his shoulders, right where you'd touched.

He beckoned you on to follow after him, and you wanted to plant your feet to the floor. To tell him no, to tell him that you had better things to do than to get fucked by him tonight.

Of course, you didn't do any of that.

Instead, you followed his lead, not asking a single question the entire way.

[londondungeon2]

a concept with twst’s time-loop theory & the Madoka Magica AU for ace trappola. (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

you have died.

this isn’t something you are certain about. it isn’t something you know but it is something you heard, have been hearing. multiple times. each time said by one of the seven, the people who appear in your dreams.

the most recent time you heard this it came from the sorcerer of the sands’ just after jamil’s overblot. now, you sit in ramshackle, watching the fireplace pop and contemplating those words.

“you have died.” the sorcerer stated.

and then after he had said underneath his breath, before the sound of a sandstorm blowing in your bloody ears drowned out the dream. he said, “dig.”

this time is different. this time there was an outlier in the prophetic dream. so, you sit in the death-like cold, watching the fire crackle and snap in the concave structure.

dig what? dig where?

you glance out at the snowy landscape outside of your home, playing with the edge of a book you have abandoned reading an hour ago. ice coats the window. the sky is this bleak gray that just feels ominous.

where am i suppose to dig?

when you came back home from scarabia, tired and with only a few days left of winter break, ace had been there. he had dug up a snowball in his hand and threw it at you, starting a snowball fight between the two of you. he had been there during the entirety of your time spent at scarabia. you had asked why he didn’t go home but he brushed off each attempt at a straight answer.

you picture the sorcerer’s face again, the slithering goatee and the ruby red jewel. was there something in the sand back at scarabia?

something like a prophetic wire pulls in your gut.

before you comprehend it, the book you hold is shut closed and put on the table. the beating pulses of light from the fireplace fall on an empty chair. you do not close the door when you walk outside of ramshackle.

ramshackle has a garden, nothing you should have been able to use yet as you arrived in september.

however, ace is excited about getting to freeload off you when you eventually start planting vegetation. he wants you to grow strawberries.

trudging through the snow, you kneel down by the garden, pajamas getting wet from the snow, and start to dig.

the hue of your fingers change slowly with the temperature. raw and cold, you push back handfuls of snow. snot from your nose hits your hand like a blood droplet and eventually dirt and blood join the coating around your hands. dirt under the nails, frostbite nibbling on each phalange, you dig and dig like you are trying to unearth … trying to unearth the secrets of the universe.

your fingers hit something that isn’t rock or dirt.

it takes a while, scraping around the edges, widening the narrow hole you have dug. eventually, you find it.

your face flushed with the winter cold leans over in awe, gazing upon your dead face peppered with dirt.

you blank.

you blank again.

you hold your gaze tightly, refusing to look away and risk losing sight of the image. perhaps this is another dream, not prophetic but simply a dream, one that is weird and odd and false. yet when you look away, to look at the coating on your shaking hands, you look back to find your face buried under earth has not moved like a crude jumpscare.

you dig in a frenzy now.

you pull yourself out of dirt. then you rush into ramshackle and grab the abandoned shovel in the basement. you dig more holes. you dig under your fingers bleed a warm red all over cold snow. you dig until you become hypothermic. you dig, grinding the shovel into the ground with your foot. you dig and dig and dig … again and again, you dig and dig.

the bodies you find are in various states of decay. some already skeletal and others horribly fresh.

you stand there, holding onto your shovel like an impaired man holds onto his cane. you blank one last time and pass out in the snow.

you die die to hypothermia and wake up in a coffin on the day of the opening ceremony.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 40

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: violence, gore, body horror

Reckless and Feckless

You were ready to find that little bilge rat who interrupted you and beat him so hard his grandkids would feel it. However, the moment you stepped on deck, there was a strange atmosphere and everyone was looking in the same direction. You picked out the orange puff of hair in the crowd and headed for Quincy. 

"Hey. What's going on?"

"We're in trouble." 

You strained your neck to peer around her, but couldn't see. Over the murmuring of hushed voices in the crowd, you heard your name being called. The crowd parted to let you through. Is someone hurt? All four officers were standing together in intense conversation at the helm. You approached them and saw that they were looking at the map you had annotated. Your brows furrowed. You hadn't seen them look this serious before. Kid beckoned you forward. He pointed at the map.

"We're approaching this area, where there should be a patrol, and it could be two ships again." Kid pointed behind their ship. "There are two ships tailing us." 

"So we're being caged in."

He nodded. 

"We can't take all of them at once." Killer stated. "We have to stagger them."

"What's the plan?" You asked.

Kid didn't answer. "Have ya been in this situation before?"

You nodded slowly, understanding where this was going. "But my ship was faster than Victoria." 

Kid made a noise of frustration. "I'll be damned before we run away," Kid said through gritted teeth.

"I know you didn't just imply what I think you implied." You glared at him. Kid and yourself had similar beliefs when it came to being a captain. You never turned away from a fight if you could help it. 

Kid scoffed. "Ya took on four at once?" 

"You think I can take 4 cocks but not 4 ships? What kind of amateur do you take me for? It's the same principle. Stagger them, as Killer said."

Heat was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh. It wasn't the time. 

"Two on one and then another two on one is still a lot," Wire said, unbothered by your crude remark.

"It won't be two on one. It will be one on one. But it's all about timing." You looked at the map. The ship would be entering an area of fog. Perfect. "How fast is top sailing speed?" 

"In strong wind, 10 knots," Wire said.

"Listen to me." Your tone was much more serious than it had been. "If you want to do this, you have to trust me. Otherwise we're gonna get torn the fuck up." You looked at Kid. "Your choice, Captain." There wasn't a combative tone to your voice. If he wanted to do differently, this was his ship. If they were asking you, it was probably because they had discussed other plans already and gotten nowhere. 

"Go ahead, Rotten." 

You explained how you had faced this in the past and won. You had only done it once, and it was pretty rough, but they didn't need to know that. With Kid's and your devil fruit, it would make a world of difference. Killer and Wire pressed you for more details. They were the ones who usually came up with strategies. But they were satisfied enough with your answers that they agreed to your plan with minimal tweaks. The plan was to hit the first ship as hard as possible and a fast as possible so they had no time to react. If you could cripple that ship from the get go, you only had to deal with the remaining ship before the ones trailing you got there. And to give you the best chance, you were at full sail. The more distance you put between the ship and the ones behind, the more time you would have to handle the others. And if you had enough time, you could set up for an ambush. 

When the ship was in range, Kid could sense where the enemy was by the metal on board their ships. Every cannon was moved to one side and fired on Kid's signal. He also took the liberty of dropping the second ship's anchors to prevent them from pulling alongside them while they were still handling the first ship. The discord amongst them was evident. They weren't expecting to be the ones surprised. The tailing ships must not have updated them about the Victoria's increase in speed. The cannons heavily wounded the first ship, and Kid finished it off by himself with a few well-aimed hits to its bow. The ship was close enough to its partner that most of the men crossed over to that ship. The amount of crew didn't matter, but one ship was certainly better than two, especially if two more were swiftly approaching. 

The Victoria Punk circled around to the other ship, where its crew was hurriedly preparing to fight. You and Mini were posted on deck, Mini in her armor. It wasn't lost on you that there were some alterations made to it that you hadn't made. Kid thought he was so slick with these things. Once you found that a broken hinge on a cabinet had been repaired even though you hadn't told anyone it was broken. Once you had found all the medical instruments had been sharpened and/or polished. He never mentioned anything, but you knew it was him.

If it had not been for the impending excitement of using your devil fruit, you would have been almost bored. Anyone who approached you was promptly shot in the forehead. Some times you would let Mini handle one and she would gore them, shaking her head back and forth vigorously until they slipped off onto the ground. All the while, you kept your ears alert and watched the scuffle vigilantly in order to tend to the wounded. Looking around, you could see why you were bored. Killer was fairly close to you and was taking out people left and right. You preferred being on the upper deck to have a bird's eye view, but Killer was stealing your joy. 

Emma was near Pomp and they seemed to be doing fine. Reck and Bubblegum had it handled. Dive was biting someone's neck; she's fine. Mosh, Hip, and House, who you didn't know very well, were getting shoved into the center of the deck, pushed until their backs were touching and surrounded on all sides. They could use your help. You directed Mini to where you wanted to go, hopping on her back as she jumped the railing. Her belly was armored so neither of you worried about projectiles or blades from below. It helped that no one expects a boar to fall out of the sky. 

You vaulted from Mini's back towards the fray while she hung back for a moment to finish stomping on the pirates she'd used as a landing pad. You were conserving your devil fruit power until you needed to use it. If anything went wrong, they would need it. Anyone in your way was gutted by your blade or shot point blank, or both. When you got to the center of the deck, you found your cremates in a worse situation. They weren't even attacking. All they could do was defend, the way they were surrounded. You threw yourself into the mix, using your blade so your bullets didn't pass through and hit your comrades. Mini was at your back, keeping anyone else who wanted in at bay. You yanked one of them back by the hair and put your blade through his neck. That got the attention of his pals and drew them away from Mosh, Hip, and House. Not all of them broke away, but enough that the other three could get back on the offensive. 

You flicked the blood off your knife in the direction of the three pirates that decided to turn on you, splattering their faces with their friend. You really wished you had a second blade at time like this. The first man came at you with his sword held too high. Before he could bring it down, you closed the distance and thrust your gunblade upward under his chin, pulling the trigger. As long as you aimed this way, you couldn't accidentally hit anyone. A fine rain of red and gray bits fell to the deck. You looked at the other two, who turned to run. 

"Mini!" You shouted for her. The boar turned and saw what you wanted. You chased them down with her. The boar jerked her head in a way to knock them over with her tusks. You jumped on one's back while she held the other down. "Too cowardly to finish a fight you started?" You knelt on his back and pulled his head up with his hair, slitting his throat with your blade. You saw a shadow as someone approached while you were still on one knee. You somersaulted through his legs and popped back to your feet on the other side, one of your favorite moves. Whipping around before he had a chance to do anything, you shot him and he dropped. Mini had squished the other man beyond recognition. 

You stayed where you were and continued to fight in the middle of the deck, where the enemy was the thickest. No one had called for your help so far. You ran into Quincy who was fighting nearby. "Doing ok?" You asked her between parries. 

"Fine. Can you look at my back?" 

You called Mini to cover you while you examined her. Quincy never stopped fighting, which made it difficult to visualize, but you could see a red stripe seeping into her clothes. It wasn't bad, you still scolded her though. "Next time, call me sooner." You put your hand over it for a few seconds and upon removal, the skin was healed. Quincy had this area down, so you and Mini darted off in a different direction. 

They must have had two or three times as many people as you did. It seemed like they kept coming. Curiously, you noticed the stream of opponents slow to a trickle. Your eyes caught sight of Heat nearby. Stop taking my kills. You moved again and the same thing happened with Killer. Still, you moved again. It was pissing you off. You let it slide after that, as you began to hear cries for help. You went to each one, healing mostly light wounds. It seemed the throngs of enemy pirates were subsiding. You could hear screams from the enemy ship, where Kid and Wire had gone off to early on. Your last job was Reck, who got hit pretty good again. 

"Reck, what the fuck?" You repaired the gash in his thigh, dangerously close to the main artery. "Do I need to babysit you?" 

He looked a bit ashamed. "No, Doc. I'm sorry." 

You finished up, "Get your ass back in there. Start throwing bodies overboard so we don't trip over them. We're not done yet." 

Heat set fire to their ship and the men left over were being finished off by Kid, who seemed to be having fun. You clapped to get their attention, "Hey, quit fucking around! We have to use this time to get in position." They seemed to have forgotten the situation. 

"Chill out, Rotten. That was a piece of cake!" Kid used his metal hand to crush another guy. "We've got this."

"That was one ship, Kid! Now we have to face two more, after already fighting two entire crews." Your temper was quickly rising, along with your stress level. He had been warned. 

"What do we need to do?" Wire had walked over to you. 

"We need to get away from this wreck and set up to am..." Your voice faded off as you caught sight of a canon blast through the fog. "Oh fuck. KID!" You pointed in the direction of the ship. The urgency in your voice got his attention in time for him to stop the cannonball. You saw similar flashes on the other side. Fuck they had gotten the jump on you, which is what you were afraid of. First, you didn't get fucked and now your plan was getting fucked instead. Can't have anything nice. 

"Not good." Wire said.

You pressed your fist into your forehead, trying to come up with plan B. There was no chance of outrunning them, even if they wanted to at this point. If they could destroy one ship quickly, they would have a better chance at getting out of this. Stuck between both of their ships like a sitting duck was certain death. The only thing you could think of was this thing you tried once. And it worked. But it was a smaller scale. You shrugged out of your jacket and pushed it to Wire. "A few things. One, don't let anything happen to my jacket. Two, when I give you the signal, get this ship the fuck out of here. Three, do not fire any cannons at that ship." You pointed at the ship closest to you.

Wire would normally be resistant to anyone but Kid or Killer telling him what to do, but given the circumstances and the commanding tone in your voice, he didn't fight it. "Kid isn't going to be happy." Wire knew how mad Kid was the last time you did something stupid. And he knew how to read between the lines. He knew you wanted him to move the ship whether you were on it or not. 

"Would he be happier at the bottom of the ocean?" You challenged. "I'll make it back. And I know you won't complain if I somehow don't." 

Wire didn't say anything to stop you. It wasn't true, what you said. He cared about what happened to you because Kid cared. It had taken him a while to come around. What you were doing now proved to him that you were loyal. This put your personal mission behind Kid's. He thought it was the latent captain in you that felt responsible for everyone on the ship and that was admirable. 

You went to the dinghy that was tethered to the ship. The plan was to sneak aboard their ship, rig it to explode, and send it directly into the wreck of the ship that Heat set on fire. If you were lucky, the remaining ship would also be crippled in the blast. If you were unlucky, the Victoria would be caught too. But there was no other way that you could make it out from two ships flanking and relentlessly firing cannons from both sides. You swung one foot over the edge of the ship into the dinghy. Briefly pausing to look at the water below. What if you fell in? Who would know? As you steeled yourself to commit, you were suddenly yanked backwards, hitting the deck hard. The wind was knocked out of you and you coughed, trying to suck air back into your lungs. 

"And what the FUCK do ya think yer doing? Have ya not learned?" Kid grabbed you and brought you to your feet so you were toe to toe with him. "Stop going off on yer own! That's an order!"

Your eyes flicked to Wire behind him, not meeting your eyes, possibly even appearing guilty. "Have you not learned? I'm saving your ass for a second time because none of you can fucking LISTEN!" There was a pleading desperation to your voice. You grabbed his wrist, prying his hand off you and throwing it back at him. "I have to go off on my own! The only person I can count on is myself!"

Those words wounded him, and it was purely his fault that they did so. He wanted you to count on him. You couldn't do that if he went back on his word. It wasn't hostility reflected in your face, it was worry. Kid thought you were willfully trying to piss him off when Wire came to warn him of what you were about to do. He was instantly regretful. It was clear to him you were doing it out of concern for his crew. This was not the time for words, not that he would ever give you a direct apology. "Fine! I'm listening now." He folded his arms. "Go on then. What's yer plan?"

The ship rocked with hits from cannonballs as you rushed to explain. Kid voiced his agreement with your plan. It was a good plan. Better now that he was in it. "Come on, Kid. I've already been held back too long." You started to get back in the dinghy when you were grabbed again.

"We ain't takin no fucking dinghy." Kid picked you up and jumped from the banister, a violet orb surrounding the both of you as he magnetized himself to something aboard the other ship. He was shocked you didn't say something wise to him and noticed your white knuckle grip on his shirt. Maybe he should have warned you since you had never seen him do that before. "Do yer thing. I'm taking out their cannons." Kid set you on the deck, eyes lingering on you for an extra few seconds. 

You nodded and got to work. A yellow circle appeared below you and you disappeared below deck. You managed to land silently and waited for the commotion Kid caused to draw the attention of anyone who was down here. They cleared out fairly quickly and you went from barrel to barrel, crate to crate, turning all of the contents into gunpowder, unless it was filled with alcohol, then you left it. The sound of someone behind you made you pivot to face them. Your face drained of blood. They were holding a gun. 

"These barrels are full of gunpowder. Do you know what will happen if you fire that down here?"

"I don't give a fuck. My brothers were on those ships you sunk. I'll blow myself up if it means I get revenge." He pointed the gun at one of the barrels.

You threw yourself in front of him, grabbing the gun and blocking its path with your own body. With your other hand, you were pushing him back against the wall, using your power to fuse him with the ship itself. He dropped the gun and twitched as his brain misfired. Half his head was gone within the wall. There was a sharp pain in your side. What hadn't misfired, was his gun. Luckily, your organs prevented them from making the barrels explode prematurely. You took a deep breath and healed yourself around the bullets. You couldn't take them out without help, but you wouldn't bleed out. Without missing a beat, you went through the entire storage area, turning the ship into one huge bomb. 

When it was done, you ran up the stairs to the main deck, sealing off the deck below so that nobody could accidentally set it off while you were still on board. You ran towards the helm, cutting down anyone who got in your way. You could hear Kid behind you somewhere laughing. Using your whole strength, you turned the helm as far as it would go, directing the ship to take a sharp turn, heading straight for the flaming mass floating in the water. You jumped at the sound of a clang close to the back of your head. You turned cautiously, catching a glimpse of purple crackling energy covering a sword floating behind you, blocking the path of another sword. 

"Damn, Rottie. Yer observation haki does suck." 

When the ship was headed in a straight line, you froze the wheel so it would continue in that direction. "Why would I need that when you're on my heels like such a devoted guard dog?" You stepped past him as he cut down the man who attacked you. "I wonder who's better, you or Mini?"

"ME!" Kid was offended first, then realized what you said. "I'm not yer dog!"

"Quit barking. Let's get out of here." You stood there, waiting for Kid to use his devil fruit. You looked at him, questioningly. You were absolutely not about to leap into his arms or offer up yourself to be held. He was going to have to do it. 

Kid scowled at you. "No. Show me how ya think ya were gonna get off this ship by yerself, since ya can't count on anyone." 

You glanced at the fire as the ship was rapidly approaching. "Are you fucking for real?" You never broke your gaze from his as you lifted your gun to shoot through the body of someone who rushed at you. You saw the twitch of his lips into a shit-eating grin. He wanted to prove a point. "Fine. I don't like being picked up anyway." You could prove a point, too.

Kid gave the signal to Wire.

You had to predict where the Victoria would be when it sailed so that you could plan this correctly. You looked up at the crow's nest, which was separate from the main sail. It seemed like the right height. You fought off some of the crew as they rushed you, careful not to let any bullets be aimed downward. Then, you put both hands on the spire of wood, making it splinter just as your own mast had when it fell. This was more controlled, breaking in such a way that it was still attached and so that in fell precisely in a particular direction. While it fell, you defended your position until it was at an angle where you wouldn't fall off if you ran up it. Climbing onto the wood, you had to start moving on your hands and knees across the length, then as it leveled out you got to your feet and sprinted down it. Kid was floating in his stupid fucking hamster ball, just watching, surely waiting for you to fall so he could save you and prove that you couldn't do it by yourself.

You felt the wood vibrate under your feet and heard a splash or two as pirates came to chase you, some falling into the drink. The Victoria, had started to move and was soon to be directly in front of your bridge, while this ship had about a minute until it was blown to smithereens. The wood was slippery and the width began to narrow. The crow's nest landed wrong, so you would have to climb over it instead of crawling through the hole in the bottom. You jumped and clung to the bottom, wedging your boots between slats to push yourself up. You felt a hand around your ankle, pulling you down. One of the pirates had caught up. You tried kicking to shake his grip, but he wouldn't let go. There was a yellow flash before you felt your leg be released. He didn't need control of his hands where he was going. 

You scrambled the rest of the way over the crow's nest and continued running; you were nearly there. The mistake was looking down. The spire was so narrow and slippery and the ocean was so cold and black. You lost your footing, slipping with either leg on both sides. You let out a pained grunt as you landed pussy first. Not exactly the wood you wanted to be on. You picked yourself up. This ship was about to make contact with the flames and your ship was about to be too far to jump to. The spire was still slightly at an upward angle, making it more difficult as you got closer to the end.

The deck was too far and you weren't going to ask Kid for help like last time. Everyone was still fighting so there was no one to make a rough cushion for your fall. But the sail, the sail was about the same level as you were. You sprinted as fast as you could manage without slipping and aimed for the sail, praying you didn't go through it. You expected to sort of bounce out of it once you hit the canvas, instead you sort of rolled all the way down to the beam where it was attached, hit that, and then bounced onto the deck.

Rolling on to your hands and knees, you winced. There might be bruised ribs. An arm was extended and you grabbed it. It was Kid pulling you up on your feet. You smirked at him through the discomfort.

"Ya got balls. I'll give ya that."

"Not anymore. You see me crush my fucking cunt? My balls are surely flattened now." You were laughing but it fucking hurt. 

Kid shook his head. "Why ya gotta be so stubborn?" 

You rolled your eyes. At least you were self-aware when it came to your stubbornness. "I wasn't worried. My big red guard dog was right there if I fell." You smirked, patting a hand on his chest. 

Abruptly, there was the sound of an enormous explosion, followed by a brisk shockwave and the rolling heat radiating from the flames. Instinctually, you shrunk closer to Kid, not because you were scared, but because a meat shield would catch any shrapnel. Also instinctually, Kid protectively pulled you into him with his metal arm. You couldn't see the explosion due to Kid's stature, but you could see the way orange illuminated his hair like his hair was fire itself, the way his amber eyes scanned his crew to make sure no one was hurt, and the way they flicked back to your face, that was already looking up at him. His heartbeat under your hand quickened and you both jerked away from each other.

You avoided looking at the other's face. You coughed out a, "Thanks, Kid," before scampering off to find Mini.

Kid felt disappointment at first. He really wanted to prove that he would have your back. But you hadn't needed him at all. He should have expected as much. He was aware of some of your past exploits. He thought back to your words and realized that you had acknowledged him, twice even, though the first time you hadn't fully meant it. His chest swelled a bit. He was a good guard dog, wasn't he? He wasn't fond of being called a dog, though, no matter how cute it was coming from your mouth. Your mouth. He swallowed at the thought of kissing you when he saw that you looking up at him. There was something about that look, it was soft and so warm and he wanted to dive in. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Not from jumping off a ship destined to explode. Not from almost falling into the water. Not even from the explosion itself. No, it was threatening to escape your ribcage because of Kid's expression. Every other time he wanted to kiss you, he had a look of hunger or lust. This time it was... adoration? You couldn't place it and you didn't like it. It made you sweat. 

The ship was unscathed in the explosion, and the last remaining enemy ship took some damage, but not enough to cripple it. You were nearly finished. Mini protected you while you healed those that were injured while you were busy. The worst of it was out of the way. You could relax a little, relatively speaking. In your anxiety, you forgot temporarily about your anger. You were muttering to yourself about these stupid fucking ships and how you were thisclose to losing your Killer virginity. You didn't realize you were doing it out loud until Reck, your patient, again, tried unsuccessfully to console you, saying that you were super hot and he was sure Killer was totally into you. You blinked at him, only slightly embarrassed about grumbling out loud, and gave him a firm bap on the forehead, telling him to worry about his own problems. 

Still, you hadn't really been able to take your frustration out on anyone, so you were a touch happy that the last ship wasn't badly damaged. Eagerly, you boarded the other ship to begin your therapy session. You were re-energized, grabbing men by their faces and melting their heads together. You were popping off limbs and reattaching them elsewhere. Soon, they started backing away from you, preferring to run directly into Killer's punishers or Heat's fire. Damn them, why can't they go somewhere else! It was like they were following you. You narrowed your eyes. Were they? You moved to a different section, below deck. This time, instead of fusing, you got a little more creative. You grabbed someone by the throat. They began to glow a soft yellow before getting slightly smaller, then smaller, then even more small. A wicked grin split your face in two as you shrunk him to the size of an ant and squished him between your thumb and index finger. 

You looked for another victim, glancing to see Wire hunched under the ceiling. You frowned. "Wire, go back up there. It's too small down here for you." What was with all of them?

He had a pained expression. Reluctantly, he disappeared, adjusting his hood as he did so, the top had brushed up against the ceiling and become skewed.

You continued your rampage until no one was left underneath the ship, returning to the deck to find that the only thing remaining were the dead bodies left behind. Where was the crew?

Killer had gotten a deep cut on his back, but couldn't find you anywhere. He even poked his head inside the infirmary. He scanned the deck and didn't catch sight of you, but he did see Kid, and headed over to him. Curiously, Minerva was pacing up and down the railing. Did she go overboard? That thought chilled him. No, Mini would have jumped in if that was the case. 

"Kid, have you seen Y/N?" 

He huffed. "No. Ya were all supposed to be keeping an eye on her." Kid looked over to see Heat prepping to set the enemy ship aflame. "Heat! Wait!" The captain looked for the tallest person on the ship. "Wire get yer ass here." 

Wire and Heat joined them. "What's wrong, Cap?"

"Have either of you seen Y/N?" Killer asked.

They looked at each other. "I thought you had her." They spoke simultaneously. 

"Well, she was below deck and I was hunched over so she told me to leave."

"And ya listened?!"

"My hood was getting fucked up." Wire crossed his arms defensively. "And I told you when she was about to do something stupid, so I did my job."

The ship wasn't all too far from the one they had just left, but they had pulled the gangplank up. It was still close enough that the wind carried the sound of your voice, yelling at the top of your lungs. No wonder Mini was pacing at the railing. She could hear and smell you. 

"Fucking hell, yer all worthless." Kid realized he was going to have to get you. 

"Hey, Captain." Wire said. "I saw her shrink a guy and squish him so....be nice and apologize to her." 

You could see those morons moving around on the deck. You were yelling as loud as you could to get their attention. They fucking forgot you! They almost left you behind! You were going to have to figure out a way to use your powers to travel. You couldn't keep getting stuck like this. If you weren't exhausted, this would probably piss you off. But you were having so much fun you didn't even realize you were getting left behind in the first place, and if you were honest, it was a little bit funny. 

It was especially funny how much they all tiptoed around you afterwards. They all thought you were going to go ballistic on them for leaving you behind accidentally. Actually, you were more upset at them for following you around. You didn't know if they all did it unintentionally or if they were told to. It made you mad either way. You could handle yourself perfectly well. Yes, maybe you were complaining about only being able to count on yourself, but this was not what you meant by it. You didn't need someone on standby to come rushing to your aid, you just needed support when it mattered.

By the time everything was over, it was late afternoon. You joined the women in the showers. You had essentially been herded there by the girls, who found it wildly entertaining that you had been forgotten about and were very excited to know how you were going to hold it over the captain's head. While you were in there, you healed a few scratches that you happened to see on the bare skin of your cremates. You decided you were done in there when Dive started a soap bubble fight. Everyone was in good spirits after overcoming a very daunting battle. 

All you wanted to do was take a nap. On your way to the women's quarters, you ran into Killer, who never got his wound healed. He expected you to come find him after getting changed, but you pushed him toward his cabin. Why bother going all the way there just to come back, and for what? Clothes? You were too tired to care. Killer had cleaned off, too, so the wound was nicely free of any dirt or debris. He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room, stripping himself of his shirt and turning his back to you. It was a good size, stretching from shoulder to hip. The flesh knitted back together as you healed it.

"There. All done." 

Killer turned around to face you. "Thanks." He cleared his throat, becoming acutely aware you were solely in a towel that barely covered the tops of your thighs. Tentatively, he reached his hand out for the bit that was tucked in, tugging it free. It felt like his hand moved of its own accord.

You let your towel drop to a puddle around your feet, a bit surprised that he made a move without you having to initiate anything. 

Killer unclasped his mask. He wanted you to see how his eyes wandered over your body, appreciating every dip of your contours and every perfect imperfection that adorned your skin. He didn't think his rough fingertips even deserved to touch something so soft. "Sorry. I just... wanted to see." 

"Why don't you indulge your other four senses while you're at it?" You nudged at his hand with your fingertips. 

Killer sat down on the edge of his bed, so he wouldn't have to bend over to kiss you. He pulled you between his knees, softly coaxing your chin closer to his own with his hand on your cheek. Your lips met lightly several times over. This gentleness was new to you. You didn't mind the change of pace from your usual hard and fast preferences. You brought a knee up to rest over his, pushing against him slightly until his back met the comforter. He let you deepen the kiss, slip your tongue into his mouth, still slow and sensual. 

Killer pushed himself further up on the bed, never letting your lips come apart from his own. You fell to his side, legs tangling with his. Your hand was wrapped in his hair, as his was in yours. It was strange, the way you were content to stay like this. Of course, you wanted to fuck him, but this was something you hadn't really experienced, this slow, burning passion at your core. 

When you finally pulled away to breathe, you noticed that he was just as tired as you were. Neither of you wanted to move. So you stayed as you were, tangled up together with your foreheads touching, exchanging the same air back and forth. He kissed you a few more times and you kissed him a few more times, and neither of you were sure when, but you both fell asleep, fingers entwined, soft smiles on your faces.

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