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noredemptionhere · 1 month ago

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𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ฅᨐฅ

pair: sevika x cat!reader (saw a headcanon about it and i had to write it so yeah—y’all are cats now)

cw (may be spoiling for some readers): angst, implied threat of assault, mention of violent acts, Intense themes.

the rain hammered down on zaun’s rooftops, turning the city’s grime slick and glistening under the dim streetlights. the storm was fading now, its fury softening into a tired drizzle, but sevika barely noticed.

didn’t matter if it was raining or not. didn’t matter if the city was burning. she was too damn exhausted to care.

her feet dragged over the cracked pavement, her body moving on autopilot. the day had been long—boring, frustrating, a waste of time. but at least home was close. just a few more blocks and she could collapse into bed with a drink, maybe forget today ever happened—

kitty.

sevika’s lips curled into a smirk, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. her gaze dropped to the small, trembling shape loafed up on the curb, soaked to the bone.

you.

the little tuxedo cat she always saw loitering around her block, the one that somehow had her wrapped around its tiny, manipulative paw. right now, though, you were nothing but a wet, miserable fluffball, shivering violently under the weight of the storm.

sevika felt something in her chest twinge. just a little.

“still alive, huh?” she murmured as she approached, voice low and teasing.

your head shot up immediately.

sevika. your favorite human. your greatest admirer. your devoted follower—

mocking you. in this weather. in this unforgiving rain.

oh, the agony.

oh, the disgrace.

oh, the horror—

your pupils blew wide with fury. you would not stand for this. not after everything you’d suffered tonight. your tiny, frozen paws lifted, claws twitching, your fluffy little butt shimmied in place—

you were about to fuck this bitch up.

and then you were already being picked up.

just like that. effortless. humiliating. one second you were preparing for battle, the next, you were scooped up in one firm arm, held against her warmer figure. your tail twitched. your ears flattened. betrayal. complete betrayal.

meanwhile, sevika just smirked, rubbing your damp fur with her thumb as she muttered, “dramatic little shit.” with a sigh, she pulled you closer to her chest and started walking.

…fine. you’d allow it. for now.

sevika held you in her human hand, rough but surprisingly gentle. the little flunky had some manners, after all. you blinked, eyes darting around the towering buildings, the slick streets, the distant neon glow of signs flickering in and out of focus. damn.

humans were so tall and-

why the fuck were you even letting her pick you up?

before sevika could process what was happening, your tiny, soggy paws went straight for her hair. you attacked with the desperation of a street cat betrayed, ruffling, batting, yanking at the dark strands with reckless abandon.

sevika barely reacted. just blinked. then sighed.

“…seriously?”

the next thing you knew, her—still human—hand had latched onto the loose folds of fur at the back of your neck.

and just like that, you froze.

paralyzed. useless.

oh, you hated humans. they had so much privilege. too much.

all you wanted was to go full picasso on her stupid… beautiful… gorgeous face—WHY WAS THIS SO HARD.

and then—oh.

home.

sevika stepped into her apartment, her soaked, exhausted frame dripping rain onto the floor as she carried your limp, fluffy, utterly defeated body inside. still dangling.

she flicked her wrist slightly, turning you just enough so you were forced to stare at that same gorgeous face you’d been fuming over seconds ago.

“just for the night,” she muttered, eyes half-lidded as she kicked the door shut behind her. “don’t get used to it.”

sevika barely spared you a glance as she set you down on the worn-out couch, her movements slow, heavy, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to her.

you, on the other hand, were going through it.

your fur was soaked. you smelled like wet pavement and despair. and worst of all? you were still thinking about her face.

you hated it here.

a heavy sigh pulled you from your spiraling. you lifted your head just in time to see sevika strip off her drenched clothes and—oh.

she was… big…?

you knew she was big, obviously—you weren’t blind. but now? now, without layers of fabric in the way, without armor to obscure the long planes of muscle and the way her skin glistened in the dim apartment light—

your brain short-circuited.

your tail flicked wildly behind you, betraying every single thought you were desperately trying to suppress. your eyes followed her around as she changed into something softer.

sevika barely noticed. she grabbed a towel from the back of a chair, ran it through her damp hair once, then—without warning—tossed it onto you.

a muffled noise of indignation left your throat. the audacity.

“yeah, yeah,” Sevika grumbled, flopping onto the mattress without ceremony. “dry yourself off and don’t piss on anything.”

she didn’t even bother looking at you. just stretched out, rolled onto her back, and closed her eyes.

you, beneath the weight of the towel, were losing your entire mind. this was not okay. this was not fair. this was straight unjustness.

because now, suddenly, you weren’t thinking about tearing her face to shreds anymore.

now, suddenly, you were thinking about how warm she looked.

and you wanted in—now, you had a new mission.

with zero hesitation, you padded up to her and—oh.

𝒐𝒉.

her chest was soft, warm, and perfect.

perfect for sitting… so you did.

with a slow, deliberate motion, you stepped forward, settled yourself, and curled up right above her soft, bi-…

you forced the thought away. nope. not thinking about that. you were a respectable creature. a dignified being. sevika shifted just slightly, her forearm still draped over her face, and then—slowly, lazily—she moved it.

her forearm slid away, revealing tired eyes, hooded and half-lidded with sleep, gazing down at you.

she didn’t say anything. just blinked once, twice.

then—quietly, almost amused—she cooed.

a deep, throaty sound, so soft, so low, you almost didn’t catch it.

but you did—and it ruined you.

sevika was already half-asleep when she felt it.

a small, warm weight, right on her chest. right there.

she cracked one eye open, and—

…well. there you were.

fluffed up. wide-eyed. absolutely deranged.

sevika smirked. “comfy?”

you were not.

you were having a crisis.

because right beneath you—beneath your tiny, trembling paws—was the softest place you’d ever been in your entire life.

you didn’t even know humans could be this soft.

your tail flicked violently behind you, ears twitching at every small rise and fall of her breath. you were aware. hyperaware. of the warmth beneath you. of the gentle, steady rhythm of her breathing. of the way her scent wrapped around you like a drug.

her smirk deepened.

and then, just to be a little shit, she brought her flesh hand up—slow, deliberate—before running a single, lazy, heavy finger from the top of your head down your spine.

your entire body shuddered.

sevika chuckled, low and deep. “thought you hated humans,” she murmured.

you did. you really did.

…so why the hell were you purring?

you didn’t mean to do it. you really didn’t.

but sevika was warm. and the rise and fall of her chest was soothing. and her scent—tobacco, wood, something steady and safe—was starting to lull you into a comfortable, heavy daze.

your little body relaxed. your tail flicked once, then stilled. and before you could think too hard about it, you let your head drop—right onto the soft warmth of her chest.

her smirk didn’t fade—but her hand, still lazily resting against your fur, shifted just a little. a single, absentminded stroke down your back.

neither of you said anything.

you just melted.

she sighed, slow and deep. heavy limbs. heavy bones. finally, finally letting herself sink into the bed, into the warmth, into the quiet.

and then, with your tiny, purring body curled up right there against her chest—sevika slept.

the golden strands of morning light stretched across sevika’s face, warm and gentle. her brows furrowed, a faint twitch of irritation at the sudden brightness—

her eyes snapped open.

and there, draped over her body like she belonged there, was the most gorgeous woman sevika had ever seen.

soft skin, bare and warm. limbs tangled effortlessly with hers. and— sevika’s gaze trailed up—cat ears. a tail.

what the fuck?

one second, she was flat on her back, frozen beneath an unfamiliar weight. the next—

a startled gasp. a tangled mess of limbs.

and now—

now she was on top of her.

the girl—the not-cat, the stunning, soft-skinned, very-much-naked girl—was now pinned beneath her. warmth against warmth. a body sevika didn’t recognize but somehow knew.

her breath hitched.

fluffy, twitching cat ears. a tail.

skin. bare skin.

sevika’s mind blared warnings she couldn’t process, too caught up in the sheer heat of it—her hands, planted firmly on either side of the girl’s head, her thighs caging her in, her pulse thundering in her ears like a war drum.

and then—

“sevika?”

soft. dazed. a little confused.

sevika went still.

she swallowed hard, jaw tight, eyes flickering down—too far down—before snapping back up.

this wasn’t happening, she was dreaming—she had to be dreaming. because if she wasn’t…

if this was real—

then she was so unbelievably fucked.

“don’t. you. dare.” sevika’s voice was low, rough, each word sharp enough to cut. her fingers twitched against your waist, grip firm but not tight. “tell me you’re the cat i took in last night.”

you blinked. your gaze dropped—slowly, painfully,—to your very, very naked self.

“AHHHHHH!”

sevika flinched. actually flinched at the sheer, ungodly pitch of your scream. her grip loosened on instinct, and you—wild, panicked, freshly human you—sprung up, bolting upright on her bed, eyes darting desperately across the room for anything to cover your naked ass with.

sevika stared. long. hard. silent.

her jaw clenched. her fingers twitched. her eye actually fucking twitched.

and then, with zero expression on her face, she moved.

she reached blindly to the side, grabbed the first thing within reach—a blanket, thankfully, and not a knife—and threw it at you like she was tossing out the world’s most inconvenient trash.

a muffled, struggling noise from under the fabric.“mmmph—”

a few flailing limbs, some aggressive untangling, and then—finally—you managed to sit up, a disheveled mess of tousled hair and wide, panicked eyes. the blanket was now clutched around you like a lifeline.

sevika dragged a slow, heavy hand down her face.

“start talking.”

you swallowed. shifted. finally settled with the blanket wrapped tight around you.

“…i-i’m a human,” you said, hesitantly. then, with jazz hands: “ta-da?”

sevika didn’t react. didn’t blink. just stared you down with the cold, unyielding patience of someone debating whether to commit a crime.

“…i’m gonna throw you out the window.”

you tensed, gripping the blanket harder. “i don’t know, okay! i was probably too tired to hold my shape while i was sleeping—”

sevika’s eye twitched again.

and yeah. yeah, she was definitely going to throw you out the window.

sevika was gripping the bridge of her nose, her entire morning ruined before it even started.

“so let me get this straight,” she said, voice tight. “you—” she jabbed a finger at you “—are the same little furball i picked up last night.”

you, now comfortably wrapped in the blanket, sitting cross-legged on her bed, with your tail flicking lazily behind you, just nodded. smug.

“mhm.”

sevika inhaled. deeply. counted to five. “i’m losing my fucking mind,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face.

you tilted your head, ears twitching. “that explains why you looked so stupid when you woke up.”

her hand dropped. her eye twitched.

“…what.”

“i mean, i wasn’t that surprised.” you shrugged. “maybe you just don’t have enough brain cells—”

sevika lunged.

“SEV—”

you barely dodged, scrambling back with a yelp, tail puffing up as sevika chased you off the bed.

“i took you in,” she growled, stalking after you as you clumsily backed up, knocking into furniture. “i dried you. i let you sleep on me.”

you gulped. “you were warm?”

sevika cracked her knuckles.

“I’M SORRY—”

“no, you’re not.”

sevika’s voice was low, rasp, and so, so unamused. she stalked forward, each step slow and deliberate, forcing you to stumble back until your tail bumped against the dresser.

“i am… i swear—”

“you lied to me.”

you gulped. “technically, i never said i wasn’t a human—”

sevika’s eye twitched. “you slept on my chest and purred.”

your ears flattened. “it was an instinct—”

“you licked my neck.”

your face burned. “i was being AFFECTIONATE!”

“by sleepin’ on me?!”

“YOU WERE WARM—”

sevika exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was physically restraining herself from committing a crime. you took the opportunity to inch away, moving towards the bed, only for sevika’s gaze to snap up, sharp and threatening.

“where do you think you’re going?”

you froze. “nowhere..?”

she huffed. “damn right.”

for a second, silence. you stood there, awkwardly, tail swishing behind you. sevika kept glaring, arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to keep herself from strangling you.

“…you’re really mean.”

a scoff. “i took you in.”

“you threatened to throw me out, like, two minutes ago.”

“i should throw you out.”

you gasped. “i’d die!”

“not my problem.”

“you’re heartless.”

sevika rolled her eyes, already turning away, but you weren’t done.

“maybe you really don’t have enough brain cells to process all this.”

sevika went rigid. then, slow, deliberate, she turned her head, glaring at you with a look that could’ve killed a lesser person. “…say that again.”

you took an instinctive step back. “i said—uh—”

“say it again.”

your hands fisted around the blanket covering you. your ears twitched. your tail fluffed up.

“…i said you look really pretty when you’re mad?”

sevika cracked her knuckles.

“wait—”

you were already scrambling onto the bed when her hand shot out, gripping your ankle with terrifying ease.

“nooo!” you yelped, kicking uselessly, but sevika just hauled you back like you weighed nothing, flipping you over with one hand.

you landed with a thud, sprawled out on your stomach, before a solid weight settled onto the small of your back.

oh. oh no.

sevika was sitting on you, her thighs caging your hips.

“you think you’re funny?” she mused, pressing down just enough to keep you trapped beneath her weight.

you squirmed. “n-no?”

a hum. “could’ve fooled me.”

you let out a tiny, pitiful whine, ears flattening against your head. sevika just smirked, clearly enjoying this.

this was it. you were doomed. trapped forever.

…

your ears perked up and your tail flicked when your eyes flickered toward the bedside table, where the clock sat in plain view. the green numbers glowed in the her bedroom.

“you’re one hour late on silco.”

sevika froze.

“…what?”

you turned your head, smug, eyes twinkling. “you were supposed to meet him an hour ago.”

a curse. sevika was already moving, shoving herself off you and grabbing her tank top, yanking it over her head and wore the rest of her clothes with a muttered “fucking hell.” —you sat up, watching her get ready all quiet and soft, tail flicking.

she paused only once, glancing at you sharply. “how the hell did you know that?”

your ear twitched “you- you were mumbling about it in your sleep.” you smiled and continued. “something about getting up earlier than usual.”

sevika’s nostrils flared.

and then—she turned back to you.

slow, heavy steps.

sevika took her time walking back over, heavy steps measured and slow. deliberate.

you shrank a little, ears twitching, gripping the edges of the blanket tighter as she loomed over you.

“listen carefully.” her voice was low, edged with something unreadable. “stay put. don’t try to leave. don’t peek out the window. don’t let anyone see your fluffy ass.” she leaned in slightly, gaze dark. “and don’t even get me started on what i’m gonna do to you if you touch the furniture.”

you gulped.

then nodded.

big, wide, puppy-eyed.

sevika exhaled through her nose, a smirk tugging at her lips. she reached out, just for a second—fingertips grazing the underside of your jaw, a slow, teasing drag.

“atta girl,” she murmured, and then she was gone.

the door clicked shut behind her, and you—now completely, utterly alone—let out a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

the room felt colder.

you swallowed again, pulling the blanket tighter around you, tail flicking once against the mattress.

…you missed her already.

the apartment was quiet. too quiet.

you stood there for a moment, bare feet against cold floor, wrapped in the blanket sevika had thrown at you.

and now she was gone.

you sighed… it wasn’t like she’d been nice—she was grumpy and threatening and rude, but at least she was there. someone to talk to, to argue with. now, with her gone, the silence felt too thick, too heavy, pressing against your ears.

your tail flicked behind you, uneasy.

the apartment wasn’t big, but it felt empty without her. the space between the walls stretched too wide, the air too still.

you shuffled out of the bedroom, blanket still wrapped tight around you, and padded into the living room. the couch sat there, empty, cushions slightly indented from use. you eyed it longingly.

but sevika’s words still rang in your ears.

“don’t even get me started on what i’m gonna do to you if you touch the furniture.”

you shivered.

nope. not worth it.

so, instead, you turned to the carpet—plain, rough, but better than the cold floor.

carefully, you curled up in the corner, pulling the blanket close, tucking your arms beneath you.

it wasn’t much. not as nice as sevika’s bed. not as soft as her arms, and the warmth she showed when people weren’t looking—wasn’t there too, but it was something.

your tail curled around you, your ears twitching at every small noise, and eventually—slowly, hesitantly, still feeling a little lonely—you fell asleep.

12:36 AM

you woke up to the sound of the city—distant engines growling, the occasional laugh or shout from the street below. the apartment was quiet, warm. body still sprawled out on the carpet, sleep marks pressed into your soft cheek.

you’d slept well—well enough that you had no idea what time it was. all you knew was that it had to be past midnight. zaun was alive down there, fucking around with repulsive cheap weed and even nastier liquor.

you didn’t like them—just like sevika observed earlier—you despised their vile, disgusting nature. keeping your cat form was the only way to adapt. it wasn’t your favorite…

but it kept you alive.

you weakly got up, the soft blanket slipping over your bare skin as you stumbled forward.

sevika’s bedroom. that’s where you needed to go. you rubbed your puffy eyes, looking for the glowing green numbers on the clock beside her bed.

12:37 AM. past midnight, indeed.

you turned back toward the living room, your brain still pulling at half-formed thoughts—fragments of the night before. sevika had seen you. as a human.

for the first time, she saw you, felt you, understood you.

but did she understand the want? the neediness of being near her?

probably not. and that was fine. at least she was alive and in one piec—

nope. wrong consolation.

at least she was alive—zaun was shit for everyone.

your eyes flickered toward the window, its cheap curtains dulling the neon glare of the city outside. you still remembered sevika’s warning—her strict order not to let anyone see ‘your fluffy ass’.

but come on.

she was paranoid. insane, even. nothing was going to happen. she just had to go all dominant on you about it.

you made up your mind. you were going to spend the rest of the night waiting for her, tucked by the window, watching her walk home like some love-struck teenager. the neon lights, the dim moonlight—it was a vibe you loved too much to resist.

so you wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket, leaned forward, and peeked out.

…see?

nothing happened.

the streets were packed. people swayed in drunken clusters, cars honked like it was fresh 12:00 pm. sure, there were plenty of high, nasty-looking men, but how would they even notice you all the way up—

“fucking hell, man—how much did sev pay for all of that?”

your breath stopped.

fucking hell, indeed.

you yanked your head back inside, heart hammering. that was too fast. too fast. how had they even seen you?

your ears strained, every muscle in your body frozen as you listened. you could hear them speaking below, filthy words tumbling from their mouths—

then one of them asked, “sevika isn’t up there, right?”

and you knew.

you knew exactly what they were going to do with that information.

hide.

your brain screamed it at you. fucking hide.

your body moved before you could think, scrambling for the first place that came to mind. the couch. under the couch.

your trembling, soft body slipped under the tatty piece of furniture—hyperventilating, your heartbeat skyrocketing.

no. no, you weren’t hidden enough. you weren’t safe. but you still had hope—maybe they wouldn’t break in. maybe sevika was too terrifying for them to risk it—

then the door slammed open.

and closed softly, with a blood-chilling click.

“aww—look at that little thing.”

you felt your stomach drop.

they saw you. they fucking saw you.

but how? were you breathing too loud? shaking too much? was your blanket showing? why were they so fast?

footsteps. getting closer.

you could hear their voices, dripping with amusement, filth spilling from their mouths like it was second nature.

you just wanted to live for a moment. like every girl you’ve known.

a hand wrapped around your ankle.

your eyes squeezed shut, tears soaking your cheeks, breath choking out of you—

the door opened again, softly. not in a rush. not with panic. it opened softly, like an owner coming home after a long day.

the air shifted. and the grip around your ankle was gone.

every breath in the room—except for one—hitched at the same time.

and then they stepped forward. no urgency. no hesitation. just presence—terrorizing confidence that mocked them, dared them to move an inch.

a sound of metal clicked into place—gear shifting, a blade locking into position, followed by a wet, sickening squelch and a raspy gasp. alike to the sound a cow makes when it’s butchered.

the sticky sound of blood splattering across the carpet.

more gasps—disbelieving, stumbling.

then the dull thud of a body being thrown at the rest of the men.

and a whisper.

her whisper.

“take him and leave.”

𓍯𓂃⋆˙⟡

the door had barely clicked shut, sevika didn’t move. not right away. she just stood there, blade still locked in place, blood dripping onto the floor. the only sound in the apartment was your ragged, uneven breaths—sharp little gasps, barely keeping up with your racing heart.

then—

two hands. rough, warm. closing around your ankles.

you barely had time to process before you were being pulled forward, dragged gently from beneath the couch. your fingers weakly grasped at the fabric, legs trembling as you were guided out into the dim, neon-lit room.

your blanket was slipping. the only thing covering your bare skin. you could feel the cool air prick at your burning cheeks, at your neck, at your collarbone. you were shaking so hard, crying so much—choked little whimpers slipping out, body curling in on itself.

and then a touch. soft. fingertips trailing over your cheek, catching a stray tear.

a voice. low, quiet.

“poor baby.”

you hiccupped. something between a sob and a gasp, your vision blurring worse.

“shh, sweet girl… i’m here.”

her arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, lifting you with no effort. before you could even think, you were being settled onto her lap, legs straddling her waist, your face pressing against her shoulder.

sevika’s hand curled around the back of your head, tucking you closer, her other arm tightening around your back.

“breathe.”

your fingers weakly grasped at her top, body still trembling, but the warmth of her—the safety of her—was already seeping into your skin.

her lips brushed against your hair.

“i’ve got you.”

she didn’t ask if you were okay. didn’t tell you it was over. because you weren’t, and it wasn’t.

your body was still fighting itself—lungs burning, breath coming in uneven gasps, fingers curling tighter in her shirt like you’d fall right through if you let go.

sevika shifted, adjusting her grip, her metal fingers tracing slow, steady circles along your back. her touch was deliberate, careful—like she was letting you feel the warmth of her, the weight of her, the undeniable presence that meant safe, safe, safe.

“deep breath, sweet girl.”

you tried. you really did. but it only came out as another choked sob, your lips parting against her shoulder.

sevika exhaled through her nose, slow. deliberate. her palm slid up, finding the back of your neck, fingertips pressing into your scalp, grounding you.

“again.”

this time, you felt it—the steady, controlled rise and fall of her chest against yours. how she was breathing for the both of you, waiting for you to catch up.

so you did.

your shoulders jerked with the effort, but you breathed.

“that’s it,” sevika murmured, her voice sinking into your skin.

the praise unraveled something deep in your ribs. your eyes squeezed shut, fresh tears spilling over, your arms wrapping around her neck in a weak, desperate grip.

sevika didn’t speak after that. didn’t move. just let you fall apart in the safety of her hold, the apartment swallowed in thick, neon-lit silence.

you weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. long enough for the shakes to lessen. for your breath to finally steady.

long enough to forget the blood drying on the floor, the echoes of those voices, the cold, suffocating weight of fear.

sevika’s fingers brushed against the base of your skull. “you tired?”

you nodded, your face still buried against her.

“come on.” she shifted, lifting you again, so effortlessly that it made something in you ache.

her bed. that’s where she was taking you. where you should’ve gone in the first place.

she sat on the edge, keeping you in her lap, waiting.

you stayed there.

sevika’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, her thumb brushing the curve of your jaw.

“gonna tell me what happened, kitten?”

you flinched. something about the demand, the certainty in her voice—it shattered whatever was left of your restraint.

“i’m sorry,” you gasped. “i’m so sorry. please don’t—don’t throw me out. i won’t survive, i swear—i swear i’ll die, sevika, i—”

you choked, shaking your head, words tumbling too fast, too broken—

“i tried—i tried, but my body—it’s too tired. i can’t—I can’t shift again—” your breath hitched. the panic climbed so high, so sharp it was almost unbearable—

a hand slid along your back, broad and grounding.

you weren’t sure if she was speaking at first. then, you heard it—a low murmur against your hair.

“breathe, baby,” she muttered, slow, steady. “i’ve got you.”

you couldn’t. your chest felt too tight, your ribs locked up, and you swore you were shaking so hard you’d slip right through her fingers.

sevika shifted. pressed you closer until you had no choice but to melt into her, her warmth swallowing you whole. one arm stayed firm around your waist, pinning you against her, while her metal fingers traced slow, grounding circles into your lower back. deliberate. steady. keeping you right here.

she started to rock you. barely noticeable at first—just the gentlest sway, like she was trying to ease you out of it without even thinking.

your fingers curled tighter in her cloak. a sob wrenched itself from your throat, your body jerking with the force of it.

“shh,” she hushed. her breath was warm against your ear. “i’ve got you, you’re not going anywhere.”

you squeezed your eyes shut. your body was still fighting itself—lungs burning, breath coming in uneven gasps, but sevika didn’t let up.

her hand slid up, curling around the back of your head.

you barely registered the motion until she was guiding you in, her grip firm, holding you against her shoulder. keeping you from pulling away. keeping you from falling apart.

her thumb brushed the base of your skull, tracing light, soothing strokes. then, in a voice so quiet it barely registered— “again, breathe.”

your ribs ached from the effort, but you did.

a shaky inhale, a stuttering exhale.

sevika hummed, low and approving, forehead pressing to your temple.

“good job.”

your throat closed again. fresh tears spilled over, hot and helpless, streaking down your cheeks.

“i can’t—” your voice cracked, high and broken, and sevika hushed you before you could spiral.

“yes, you can,” she said, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

your breath stilled.

so close.

not a kiss, not really. just the warmth of her, the steady press of her lips barely touching the skin right beside yours.

her hold tightened around you, so solid, so unshakable, like nothing in the world could move her.

a few minutes passed. your breathing had evened out, the panic fading like a distant echo. In its place, there was only warmth—gentleness so steady, so all-consuming, it almost made you dizzy.

sevika hadn’t let go. hadn’t rushed you. hadn’t demanded anything at all.

she had just been here. and you were so fucking grateful.

not just for her presence, but for how lenient she was. how understanding. you had always known there was something softer beneath the sharp edges of her—hidden, buried, waiting.

it’s just that no one had ever been worthy enough to see it, to experience it.

…did that mean you were? but she barely knew you… maybe you just looked too much of a mess to ignore..?

you were still trembling in her arms. soft, fragile. barely breathing right.

sevika could feel it—every shaky inhale, every tiny, broken sound against her throat. and fuck, it did something to her.

she had seen people terrified before. begging, crying. she’d seen it in the pits, in the streets, in the eyes of men who knew they were about to die.

but this wasn’t the same.

this wasn’t some coward pleading for mercy. this was something else. it was the kind of fear that settled deep in the bones, clawing from the inside out. the kind that didn’t go away.

she exhaled through her nose, slow and steady, letting the heat of it brush against the crown of your head.

“breathe,” she muttered again. a command. a reassurance.

she felt you try—felt your chest rise, then hitch, then shudder all over again.

not fucking enough.

sevika’s hand slid lower, palm smoothing down the curve of your spine. not in a way that meant something. not now. just a steady weight. a reminder.

you’re here… and you’re safe.

you hiccupped, your hands twitching against Sevika’s shoulders. your fingers curled into the fabric of her cloak, clinging.

sevika’s jaw tightened.

“you’re okay,” she muttered, pressing her metal hand against the small of your lower back. holding you closer. holding you up.

you made a noise—soft, breathless. Almost like you wanted to believe her.

sevika leaned back slightly, just enough to see your— red-rimmed eyes. tear-streaked cheeks. your lips were parted, trembling with something that wasn’t quite words, and sevika took you in. every inch of you. every mark left behind from the night.

she lifted her metal fingers, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your cheek.

“look at you.” her voice was low, quiet. almost a whisper.

you swallowed thickly. your lips quivered.

sevika’s hand shifted, her knuckles skimming along your jaw, tilting your face just enough.

the corner of your mouth—soft, flushed, damp with tears.

sevika leaned in, pressing her lips there. barely. just the ghost of a touch. a quiet thing. an unspoken promise.

she felt you go still. the tiniest, sharpest inhale. like you didn’t know if you were supposed to pull away or fall into it.

sevika didn’t give you a choice.

she pulled back, watching you carefully, keeping her metal hand firm against your back.

you didn’t know how much time had passed. how long you had been sitting there, wrapped up in the warmth of her, the weight of her arms, the slow, steady drag of her fingers tracing along your back.

you were breathing now. not perfect, not steady—but breathing.

sevika shifted just slightly, her breath ghosting over the top of your head. then—low, quiet

“…how many do you have left?”

you blinked, slow, heavy. still lightheaded from all of it, still sinking, still—

“…what?”

“your lives,” she muttered. “how many?”

you let the words settle. you weren’t sure. you had never counted.

for a moment, you thought about telling her the truth. that it didn’t matter. that if she had thrown you out, if she had let you go—if she ever let you go—

but instead, your voice came out soft. steady.

“…enough.”

sevika let out a huff. low, almost amused, and her grip tightened.

“good,” she murmured. “don’t waste another one.”

your breath hitched. not from fear, not from panic—from something else you weren’t willing to name at the moment.

slowly, your fingers curled into the fabric of her cloak again, grounding yourself in the scent of her, the warmth of her, the way she was holding you like you were something to keep.

the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“…nine lives.” a quiet inhale. hen, softer, truer

“and none without you.”

you felt the way she stilled. the way something shifted in the air—heavier, deeper.

her metal fingers found the base of your skull, dragging slow, steady lines along your skin.

sevika exhaled, her voice a murmur against your temple.

“that’s right, kitten.”

you closed your eyes. let yourself sink.

let yourself stay.

#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x fem!reader #arcane

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hoe4hotchner · 28 days ago

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Mine | [A.H]

Pairing: Mafia!Hotch x Fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: club scene, alcohol, violence.

The club pulsed with life, the bass thrumming through the floor, weaving through the low hum of conversation and the sharp clink of expensive whiskey against crystal glass. It was the kind of place where power was by who sat behind the velvet ropes—where the most dangerous men in the room never had to raise their voices to be heard. It was also the kind of place where no one touched what belonged to Aaron Hotchner.

Yet, somehow, the man standing in front of you had made that mistake.

His fingers curled around your wrist, the grip just tight enough to be possessive, just firm enough to make you uncomfortable. The stench of expensive cologne mixed with the sharp bite of whiskey on his breath as he leaned in, grinning like he had already won whatever game he thought he was playing. "C'mon, sweetheart, no need to play hard to get. I can give you a better offer than whatever you're getting now."

You didn’t have time to answer before the atmosphere shifted. The air around you seemed to still, the space behind you darkening with a familiar presence.

Then, in the space of a single breath, the man was ripped away.

Hotch moved faster than you could process, his hand wrapping around the man’s throat and slamming him against the nearest wall with a force that rattled the framed liquor displays behind the bar. Glassware trembled. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. The entire club fell silent.

“Touch her again, and I’ll break your neck.”

His voice was quiet, and controlled, but there was something in it that sent a chill down your spine—something deadly. Hotch rarely needed to make threats, not when his reputation spoke for itself, but when he did, it was never an empty promise. He could kill.

The man gasped, his fingers clawing at Hotch’s grip, his face turning an alarming shade of red. The smug confidence that had dripped from his words only seconds before had vanished completely. He knew exactly who he had just crossed, and from the way his body trembled, he also knew there was no undoing it.

Hotch leaned in slightly, his grip tightening just enough to make his point clear. “You think you can put your hands on something that belongs to me?” His words were measured, deliberate, and left no room for misinterpretation.

You should have been startled by the possessiveness in his voice, by the sheer force of his anger, but all you could focus on was the way he stood in front of you, a wall of control and fury as if there was no reality in which he would let anyone lay a hand on you and walk away unscathed.

The man gave a frantic nod, his expression somewhere between desperation and pure terror. Hotch held him there for another long moment, letting the weight of his words settle in before finally releasing his grip. The man collapsed, coughing violently as he stumbled back, eyes darting around the club as if looking for an escape route.

When no one moved to help him—when not a single person in the room dared to challenge the man who had just nearly choked him out—he scrambled toward the exit, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance.

Hotch exhaled slowly, his body still thrumming with tension as he turned to you. His eyes, sharp and dark beneath the low lighting, scanned your face before trailing down to your wrist where the man had touched you.

His jaw clenched, and before you could say anything, his fingers brushed over your skin, tracing the faint redness left behind. His touch was the opposite of what you had just endured—gentle and respectful, ensuring you weren’t hurt.

“Are you alright?” His voice had softened, but the barely contained rage still simmered beneath the surface.

You nodded, your pulse still racing. “Yeah.”

He didn’t look convinced. His fingers lingered on your wrist for a moment longer before he exhaled sharply and threaded his fingers through yours instead, his grip firm and protective. The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine, but it wasn’t from fear.

It should have been.

You should have been wary of a man who could snap a neck as easily as he could open a bottle of scotch, a man whose power extended into every shadowed corner of the city.

But you weren’t afraid of him. You never had been.

His hand tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing over the inside of your palm in a way that felt more like a promise than a simple touch. His eyes searched yours, and for a brief second, the room around you disappeared.

“Take me home,” you murmured, and the second the words left your lips, his grip on you became unshakable.

Hotch had never been the kind of man to let go of what was his.

And tonight, that included you in his bed.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 3 months ago

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The Yeti's Cave

Yandere Male Yeti x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, pleasurable sex, oil like precum, size difference, rut, language barrier, kidnapping, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.1k (Took a tiny break from comms to give you guys a winter fic that I hope you will all enjoy. Not my best work, but I hope it will feed you. I am sorry I have been writing so slow lately.)

It was winter in the town of Whelm. Not too unpleasant. Rather cozy, to be perfectly honest. Curled up by the fire. But Whelm was in the valley. Winter in the northern mountains was a frigid hell that few would venture into.

But you had to. A week before cold weather had hit there was a messenger from the village on the other side of the treacherous mountains. A sickness had taken hold, they had urgent need of medicines that could only be crafted from ingredients found around the valley. But it took time to gather and collect such supplies when they were needed at such scale.

You were the apprentice to the wizened old apothecary. A seemingly ancient man who had taught you as much as he could about collecting medicinal herbs, preparing them, and administering them. Seeing as he was so old, only you could make the trip and treat the villagers past the mountain.

You managed to make it there in time. But while you were on your way back home winter kissed the region.

Caught in a flurry of stinging wind and violent snow you barely managed to make it into the relative safety of an odd smelling cave. You wrapped your coat tightly around you. Was this how you were going to go out? Trapped in a cave with limited supplies? Slowly fading into the cold in a weird smelling cave?

As it happened, no.

There was a loud rumbling growl from deep within the cave. Your eyes widened, but you told yourself it was just the wind entering the deeper reaches of your makeshift shelter and making weird noises. But then you heard it again, louder this time.

From the depths emerged a fearsome beast the likes of which you had only heard rumors of. A hulking form, rippling muscles apparent even under thick white fur, a human-like face with sharp teeth and icy blue eyes, and two curled horns atop a shaggy mane of long white hair.

Despite the cold, that got your blood flowing and your heart flowing, you were out and in the snow immediately. A possible death in the cold mountains was better than a certain death by that man-like beast.

Ikkan, the yeti who you had run from, was worried. You were an odd thing that he had never encountered before. But you clearly had no proper fur except what was on your head, and your artificial covering didn’t seem all that effective. You’d freeze out there!

And thus he made it his mission to go and retrieve you.

And he succeeded. Expeditiously.

He dragged you back, kicking and screaming, into his cave. Deeper into it. He held you down on his fur-lined bed with the hope it would warm you up. He also cuddled close, though you still struggled despite his good intentions.

Ikkan decided he would take care of you and you could be his tiny mate. He was lonely, in rut, and you’d definitely die without him to care for you during this harsh time of year. Besides, some part of you clearly wanted him to be your husband. You had entered his den that very clearly smelled of him, after all.

In an effort to calm you down he tried to communicate with you, but each harsh guttural word sounded like a threat to your ears. You were convinced he had saved you to eat you later.

He moved on to offering you food and water but you wouldn’t give up your resistance.

Maybe you were having trouble understanding that he wasn’t intending to hurt you? That he just wanted to be the best he could be for his small mate. How could he get his intent through to you? The answer was clear! He just had to give you some high quality sex! Yeti cum would keep you cozy and you’d know exactly what he wanted to do with you.

You kicked and squirmed as the large furry thing held you down and removed your clothing. His huge cock had come out of its sheath, making his plan for you exceedingly clear. You tried to kick him away but he held you still and patiently applied precum to your hole and massaged it in to lubricate your tight entrance.

Since you were so much smaller than he was he knew you’d need some special attention before slipping into you.

He added his thick saliva to the mix and eventually got to the point where he could easily slip in several fingers into your twitching little hole, making you gasp when he wiggled them around inside of you.

Ikkan knew his little human was ready. He sat on his large bed of furs and pulled you close, planting you firmly on his cock while nestling your shivering body into his warm chest. It really felt amazing. Inside and out. He was surprisingly soft and his touch warmed you quickly.

At the same time, his cock continuously exuded warm oily precum that heated you up from the inside out. He fucked away your resolve in record time. It was clear to you now that he was in no way trying to injure you. Unless you counted having your senses fucked out of you. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled into his cozy chest. You even began bouncing on his big cock, desperately trying to get it deeper inside you despite your earlier protests.

The yeti smirked, he knew you’d love his dick.

Ikkan was overjoyed to give his human what they wanted. He quickened the pace and went a bit harder, holding your sides as he began really fucking into you. Blush crept across your face as the two of you came together. The pair of you shivered not from cold, but from pure pleasure.

He cuddled you as you leaned on him with his slowly softening cock still in you before eventually pulling out and laying you on his bed of furs. Strangely, your body seemed to have somehow absorbed the cum and it kept you well heated without the need for your clothing.

For the moment, your brain was overstimulated and you had not fully processed what had happened. But that didn’t matter much to Ikkan, he would take the opportunity to get some food and water in you and if he noticed you becoming bratty again he would just give you some more top tier yeti cock.

You didn’t know when spring would usher in better weather. And it didn’t really matter, because no matter what happened, you would never be leaving.

#yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #yandere yeti #yeti x reader #My OC Ikkan

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

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heyy, so this is my first time sending an ask, i dont know if u do repeated themes, but im so obsessed with bodyguard!james, maybe we could have some angst where he puts himself ia a dangerous situation to save reader and she gets mad/upset at him? love your work very much, they brighten my day🙌

Thank you for your request <3

cw: shooting, blood mention

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James says your name, soft and worn with exhaustion. “Can you look at me, please?”

No sooner do you oblige than your vision blurs again. There’s a cruel line across his perfect cheek, leaking blood where the glass sliced across it. Your fault.

James sighs. “Sweetheart,” he says, knuckles finding your cheek. They brush away your tears without intent, less a purposeful act than a byproduct of a caress. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you insist. Your voice burns like fire, and yet you don’t remove his hand. Even furious with him, you crave James’ comfort.

His expression tightens when you blink more tears down your cheeks. You wonder if it hurts. You wonder why he’s sitting here with you in your room instead of going to get his cut cleaned or patched or whatever he needs to do, but really you know. You’re always the priority. Even when the threat has passed and protocol no longer requires it, James will always take care of you before taking care of himself.

Your voice comes out softer without you meaning for it to, soft but not thin. “You shouldn’t have moved.”

“It’s my job to protect you,” says James.

“I was safe!”

“You weren’t safe.” Now it’s him who’s being firm. James sets both hands to your shoulders, looking you in the eyes. Not angry, but ardent. “Someone was trying to hurt you. You were in trouble, and I needed to get to you.” His lips tilt slightly, not without sympathy. “That’s my job.”

You chew your lip, tasting salt in the seam. He makes it sound so simple. So innocuous, too, someone was trying to hurt you instead of someone was shooting at you. James always plays things down this way, softening them into something less horrific, less violent. Another way he protects you, you suppose.

You’d been going down the hallway with James, chatting about something useless, when the large window you were walking beside sprouted a hole. Your next step stalled, perplexed, and in that time two more holes appeared, with cracking sounds and the tinkling of broken glass on the floor. You and James moved at the same time, his hand reaching for your arm a heartbeat too late as he retreated toward one side of the window and you—stupidly, considering it was a greater distance—threw yourself to the other.

By now, James’ team knows the shooter was likely some sort of sniper; no one with a gun could have made it onto the property and the bullets were fired singularly instead of in a spray. A spray, you probably wouldn’t have survived.

The shooting stopped when you were both away from the window. You looked at James across it as you pulled your knees in tight, making yourself small between that window and the one behind you. The air in your lungs felt dry and stale. James was looking back at you, eyes wide but face controlled as he scanned you over.

“I’m okay,” you said. Whispered, though you don’t know why.

James nodded, standing. “Stay right there,” he told you.

You only had a second to be concerned about why he’d say that before he was running back across the window. Your body tensed on instinct, but you were too slow to stand as glass sprayed, punctured by another bullet. James landed with his body covering yours.

You thought he’d been shot. For a handful of panicky, heartbreaking moments, you’d searched for the wound, feeling for wetness at his neck, his side, his heart, until he managed to catch your hands, whispering, It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re okay.

There’d been no more shooting after that. James had spoken to people in his earpiece, and you’d both stayed hidden, and eventually someone had said back that you were clear to go. Now James is sitting in front of you on your bed, alive but bleeding and looking like he might like to hug you if you let him. You haven’t let him.

He watches you gnaw on your lip. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he says softly.

You scoff. “As if you get to talk.”

James smiles, but you don’t smile back. You’re not ready for that yet. It fades as a new wave of tears crests your cheeks.

“I don’t want you to protect me anymore,” you say weakly. “I don’t like when you get hurt for me.”

His brows bend, big thumbs moving soothingly, almost absently, over your shoulders. “You can’t get mad at me for that,” he says. “It’s how it needs to be. You know why.”

You sniffle. “Because it’s your job.”

“Because it would kill me if anything happened to you.” His eyes bore into yours, deeply earnest.

“James…”

“It would destroy me,” he says.

You look back at him. Your heart feels like it’s beating in the hollow of your throat. You’re no less upset with him, but now there’s another feeling in the mix, not new but inconsistent. James’ eyes dip to where you’re still chewing your lip. He reaches for it, thumbing it free from between your teeth.

“Stop that,” he pleads.

You swallow. “You can’t just say that.” Can’t pretend he’s here for any reason other than it’s where he’s paid to be. Can’t act like he cares about you half as much as you do about him.

James looks wounded. “Why not?”

“It’s not fair.”

“I don’t think you’re being very fair. You were in danger, and I did what I needed to get to you. You can be angry at me if you want, but I don’t see how I earned it.”

Your face is hot again, emotion prickling just beneath your skin. “Because I’m not the one who gets hurt, James!”

“I know.” His voice goes soft to counter your loudness, his hand moving back to your cheek. A warm touch over warmer skin. “I can’t be sorry.” James’ lips touch underneath your eye. You tilt up into them, and he turns his face down. “I can’t.”

You taste your own tears on his lips. James kisses you gently, coaxing, not wanting to take any more than you can give. Your throat closes as you push your hands up his shoulders, wanting to prove it to him; that you can give, and give, and give. He tempers you when you get too frantic, pulling you back with doting touches.

You open your eyes to run a thumb gently beneath the line on his cheek. Emotion steals your breath. “I’m sorry for this,” you manage.

James covers his hand with yours to kiss it. “It was my decision.”

“A stupid one.”

He makes an amused humming sound, noncommittal. “We’re okay, though, aren’t we?”

“What, you think you can just kiss me and I’ll instantly feel better?” It’s a bold thing to mock, when your head is still buzzing and your lips feel warm and tingly.

“No,” says James, sincerely, “of course not. What can I do?”

You look at him, fighting the urge to take your bottom lip between your teeth again, if only to see if it feels different. “It wasn’t not helping,” you admit.

The smile that takes James is so overwhelmingly sweet it almost does make you forgive him for everything. Almost. As his lips close over yours again, you think you can find it in yourself to make it all the way eventually.

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quarterlifekitty · 4 months ago

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You know the praise/degrading chart you made? So stay with me now kitty, stay with me bestie

Slapping Ghost in the face while riding him, holding his chin with force BUT praising him for it

I think he would cum & discover things about himself at the same time

I’m with you bestie we are holding hands rn

cw: slapping, breath play/choking, violent imagery/threats (I made reader kinda fuckin crazy lol)

Ghost is no stranger to the sting of your palm on his cheek. He tells you not to go easy on him, and you don’t— sometimes his vision nearly goes white. Between that and your hand on his throat and your cunt strangling his cock, he’s somewhere in the precipice between this world and the next.

“Don’t fuckin’ pass out on me, Simon. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? You’re always so good for me.” You let go of his neck when the thrum of his pulse in his ears gets so loud that his eyelids flutter.

“Wann’ be good,” he grunts, a surprising propensity for human speech considering he feels like a beast beneath downpour, near drowning in his own rancid pit— that fetid, pulsing mound of weakness beneath his sternum begging for love.

Your fingers trail up the column of his throat to grab his chin, forcing his attention on your face.

“You’re not just good anymore, Simon. Not when you’re with me. You’re perfect. If any other man tried to come near me, tried to fuck me with their raw cock, I’d gore them. Guts turned to garland.”

And he knows you would.

The roiling tempest burns beneath the weak skin of his belly when you speed up.

“You’re perfect and I want you inside of me all the time. You fit me perfectly. I want your everything, god— I love you. Cum right now, cum inside my pussy please you beautiful fucking man—“

He cums so hard he feels like he’s gonna throw up. You follow close after, grinding against him harshly until he can feel the squeeze of your insides on his sensitive cock.

When you lay next to him a few moments later, skin sticky and hot, he’s staring at the ceiling like it owes him money. Since when do his hardest orgasms come from feeling loved?

#writing #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cw breath play #cw violent imagery #cw slapping

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controld3vil · 29 days ago

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SO PROUD OF YOU

pairing: sinister invincible x villain!reader

synopsis: You had reasons for everything you did. Letting Mark was one of them.

notes -> the finale was crazyyy reader has invisibility powers and can create force fields cw: canon typical violence, exes to enemies trope, angst, post-break-up, foreshadowing (if you caught it)

The first realization that the world may never get better came when you witnessed the brutal fight between Mark and his father, Omni-Man. You had been a superhero for as long as you could remember, once standing side by side with Mark before he became Invincible. You knew him before he was the symbol of hope the world would come to depend on. He had always admired you, and you believed that you would make the world a better place with him by your side.

But that all changed when Invincible fought against Omni-Man in a violent and brutal battle that left cities in ruins and innocent lives lost in the crossfire. You watched as the father and son clashed, unable to reconcile their differences and the destruction that followed fell personal.

It wasn’t just that fight that shook you though – it was Mark’s unwillingness to take the hard, necessary steps to protect Earth from those who would harm it. You found yourself growing more and more frustrated with his hesitation, his refusal to do what was necessary. You had always believed in his potential to be the hero that the world needed, but after everything that happened, you started to wonder if that potential was holding him back.

It all came to a head one day when you confronted Mark after another failed attempt to stop a threat – Angstrom Levy. The villain had managed to escape yet again after Mark had spared his life in a moment of mercy. The destruction and chaos Levy had caused was like an endless cycle and Mark’s reluctance to finish it once and for all fueled your frustrations.

“Mark, why didn’t you just finish it? Angstrom Levy – he’s gone again, and you’ve given him the chance to hurt more people, maybe even your family. You had him! You had the chance to stop everything and you just let him!” You voiced, frustrated.

Mark shakes his head, trying to explain. “I couldn’t. He’s not like… I can’t just kill someone in cold blood, even if he’s a threat. I don’t want to be that kind of person.”

Your eyes narrowed down at him, a bitter tone escaping your mouth. “And what about all the people he’s hurt? What about the families he destroyed? What about all the lives he’s endangered? You don’t think your mercy is just another way of allowing people to get hurt?” These bitter and gnawing thoughts pile up from your subconscious as you step forward. “You can’t keep fighting with this idea that everyone can change. Some people don’t deserve a second chance.”

He looks at you and looks away hesitantly. “I... I don’t want to be like my dad.”

“Look around, Mark. The world is falling apart, and you’re trying to hold onto this.. this naive idea that mercy will fix everything. Wait until another intergalactic being invades Earth, and then what?” You scoff, with a bitter laugh, offended by his reasoning. “The only way for us to survive is to take matters into our own hands. And if killing those who deserved it to keep us safe, then it’s worth it.”

Mark’s eyes open wide, voice trembling in disbelief. “Wait.. what? No… no, why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true and you know it!” You raised your hands, frustrated. “You can’t save everyone, Mark. It’s not until Angstrom comes back with more little tricks up his sleeve and then? More lives will be gone, cities, towns, more people will die.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. And the sooner you understand this, the sooner you’ll realize how all of your failures to finish the job cost lives.” Your eyes are hardening, voice is absolutely in every fiber of your body. Having known each other for a long time, you rarely argued with Mark. But this was one of the very few instances where it was needed. Mark’s world has been the same since he got his powers. He still couldn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. Every time he wanted to negotiate with a villain or talk it out was a waste of time.

“I thought you were better than this, Mark.” You stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t– We can’t do this anymore.”

“No– no.” He gripped both of your hands, terrified of the thought of you leaving – giving up on him. “You can’t just give up on us.”

“Why can’t I?” You snapped. “Mark… I don’t want to argue with you every time I see you. This isn’t healthy.”

“Oh really? Says the person who made a deal with The Order!” You thrashed your arms away from Mark, knowing he would bring it up sooner or later.

“At least they understand–”

“Oh, I understand.” You can feel his intense stare at the back of your head, hoping – pleading with you to turn around to see the truth. “You’d rather get involved with criminals than help me fight whatever alien or extraterrestrial creature that is trying to invade Earth!”

No words were spoken from either of you. It felt as though all of the frustrations the two of you built between one another had spilled out into the room. The tension lingers, and you hold onto it like a buoy to a ship in a stranded sea.

“This is never going to end, Mark.” You whispered, picking up his exhausted sigh from all the shit you’ve pulled. “What I’m doing with The Order has done more good than GDA in the last month. Face it, we’re never going to work.” When you finally turn to look at him, the first reaction you felt was sorrow. Because Mark looks distraught and almost willing to give everything up. He’s always had a strong heart but seeing him so broken and emotional, all because of you was enough to break your heart into a million pieces.

Both of your hands cupped his face, your thumbs tracing the fallen tears. “Let me go.”

“No–”

“I mean it, Mark.” You give him a weak smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “After everything we’ve been through, I can’t keep following you down this path of mercy you always talk about. Because the world just got a lot bigger and I can’t avoid losing you because you can’t fucking kill.”

Your name slips out as a desperate plea. “If– If I go down that path, I’ll just be like my dad… I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to.” You hummed, with a smile never reaching your eyes. “All I want is for you to let me go.”

And he did and you fucking cried over it.

For a while, you went AWOL on Cecil and the GDA. You didn’t answer their calls and ignored every chance they visited your door. Cecil was mad – disappointed in your resignation because ultimately you were a great asset, he might even say you were one of the good ones. The ones that didn’t question his intentions and moved on with the job, because in your heart, you knew this was for the greater good. He’d guessed along the lines of catastrophe after catastrophe, you couldn’t handle the pressure.

Mark did you a favor by never giving any information about you. He prevailed with his promise and continued to fight bad guys and help the Guardians. But after your disappearance, he felt you left a hole in his heart.

Even if he couldn’t call you, news about Invincible followed you everywhere, even underground.

“So Invincible caught you.”

“Yeah, how many times do I have to tell you?” Your new acquaintance with Multi-Paul was still fresh and annoyingly frustrating to work with. Your boss, Titan, had close ties with Master Liu, Paul’s boss and crime lord. “He was an asshole.”

“Hey,” As you stood up from the chair, standing opposite of Paul. Titan told you specifically that Paul needed to be broken out, simply because Mister Liu insisted on it. He had more power over Titan and that made him paranoid about what he was able to do. So he consoled you, hoping you would be able to compromise with Paul to lay low for a bit longer before you decided to help him break out. “I just need you to postpone this a bit longer. Titan–”

“I don’t negotiate with Titan. I work for Mister Liu and when he says I’m out, I’m out.” The assassin scoffs, dangling his carbon seal handcuffed to prove his point. “I don’t work for you so whatever your boss told you to do, it won’t work on me.”

“Stop being an asshole for a second and listen.” You sneered, slamming your palm against the metallic table separating the distance between you two. “All Titan asks is to wait a few more days. That’s all, and then he and I will break you out. Mister Lie agreed to this.”

“I gotta hear it from him then,” He mockingly grins, as he senses how thin your temper is getting. But in the end, you knew he was messing with you. So as you prepare to leave, he says another thing. “And while you’re out there, give my thanks to Invincible. I’ll be waiting for my rematch.”

You rolled your eyes, not even taking a glance at the inmate before leaving the premises.

Titan called you on the premises when it happened. When the world went to shit and buildings started collapsing. You barely left your home, understanding what it all meant. You lived in the city and witnessed firsthand what kind of chaos these enemies were capable of. As you rushed past frightened citizens, you watched as a quick flash of yellow zoomed past another building.

“Don’t worry about me, kid. For now, just focus on helping the people move out of the city. The heroes can’t handle this all by themselves.” You gripped your phone against your ear, as you slowed your jog, looking back and forth where to go. Your mind was racing so fast like on a race track.

“What about you, boss?!” You urged.

“I got it under control. Look, watch your head, and contact the others. We need to make it out of this alive.” Titan reassures desperately and hangs up. You stare at the blank screen with frustration. The others? They’re probably dead by now, how are you supposed to contact anyone?

Seeing humanity crumble so easily made you feel a bit sentimental. It reminded you back to why you got into the superhero business in the first place. Initially, you believed your powers were a gift from grace. As fate chose you to help and save others when times were tough. To a point, your parents and the GDA supported that theory when you joined the task force at the ripe age of twelve. You didn’t know back then but you were setting yourself up for failure the moment you decided to become a superhero.

Because being a superhero was not always stars and rainbows. You became a prolific figure alongside the Guardians of the Globe and Teen Team. You were always under mentorship by one of the heroes, acting as a sidekick for the day. And eventually, when you got older, you outgrew the program and began to serve the GDA full-time.

There were small instances where the GDA offered you a civilian life, such as going to public school, allowing you to pursue your interests and take courses that would benefit your abilities. That was how you met Mark. But the fact was he knew you before you officially became a superhero. You both came from the same elementary school, passing mutual greetings ongoing to high school. At some point, you both hit it off and became something more.

Up until Mark got his powers.

Part of you wished you hadn’t met Mark at all to prevent this type of awkward tension. Because now you can’t even look him in the eye without remembering your last conversation and saying goodbye.

But you also have to remind yourself that breaking off with Mark was the reason for your fight for the greater good. You joined The Order and now under the mentorship of Titan, you saw what real cruelty was amongst the streets.

Even now, as you pushed off massive boulders for people to get through to the other side, you had hoped to find another one of your associates somewhere in the middle of this mess. Smog, smoke, and fire lingered everywhere no matter where you turned. You couldn’t see straight without brushing the particles aside with your hands. The hot smell of roasted corpses was unbearable but also a reminder that the perpetrator was nearby. You could sense something, flying past you any second.

In a quick splash of yellow, you thought you saw Mark. But you knew your mind was playing tricks on you. He didn’t wear the typical yellow, black, and blue suit anymore, not after his fight with Omni-Man. But the figure was zooming in fast velocity, you were sure it was him.

“You can’t just stay away from danger, can you?”

You didn’t want to believe it but even with dust flying everything – your bloodied combat outfit and exhaustion creeping up into your body, you wanted to believe it was your mind playing tricks on you. But it wasn’t that simple. There he was, Mark– Invincible hovering over you feet above the ground, arms crossed with a completely stoic expression.

His attire, with alternating colors of yellow and black, made him stand out like black lettering on white paper. He was intimidating, exuded dominance, and stared down at you like a piece of meat. You didn’t know how to feel about it.

“You’re not him.” You sneered, taking a few steps backward to relay the distance between you further.

“No, I’m not.” He lowers himself, only now barely touching the street floor. His goggles shield you from his real expression, what he’s really feeling. It makes you queasy, sick to your stomach to the anticipation of what he wanted from you. To him, you might just be another insect, ready to be squashed.

“What do you want?” You already knew he could feel your heart beating faster. Your heightened sense, your shaky hands – all of those symptoms made you feel like cattle to a butcher shop ready to be slaughtered. Was he going to play with his food?

“Never thought I’d see another you.” He clenched his fists together. “It’s a shame, you had to go out like that.”

“I don’t want to know,” you scoffed, without thinking you lowered yourself into a defensive position. “Look, whatever you and I had in your world doesn’t exist here. And right now you’re trespassing.”

“Trespassing? Is that what you call it?” This time, this Invincible cracks a smile, a reflection of cruel mockery. “Listen I thought about killing you all over again from the moment I stepped foot into this god-awful universe. But now?” You take a slow breath, slowly anticipating the worst. “Now, I’m kinda enjoying this version of you. Not naive or fragile, god you’re nothing alike.”

“I could say the same.” You glared at him, warning him of the next words he anticipates saying. “And unlike him, you’re actually willing to kill people.”

“Really?!” He sounds genuinely surprised, almost chuckling. “He sounds pathetic.”

At that, you can grind a little. “The Mark from this world couldn’t finish the job of killing Angstrom, and now look at it.” You glance at all of the burning bodies and buildings his doppelganger has made.

“And out of everyone, I didn’t expect you to be so happy about it.” There’s a smirk on his face, as his teasing is the only thing bringing you down. “You know, back in my world, you’d be the first to resist this kind of control. Always complaining about innocent lives and humanity–”

“Well, I’m nothing like her.” As if you were insulted by the fact he was even bringing that version of you. “Are you here to kill me or not?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t do that.” He could if he wanted to. But for some reason, this version of Mark was much more sinister. He had this kinda taunting tone about him. Even when destruction and chaos surrounded him, he didn’t care. He was looking at you like prey. All this time, you’ve been trying to stall and keep yourself alive. “Torturing you sounds so much better.”

“So what’re you waiting for?”

Then you disappear from the cool sensation of disappearing from the world around you. The air felt heavier, but you were hidden. You can hear him, his every movement amplified by your heightened senses. The sounds of his boots scraping against the cracked asphalt made you shiver, he hadn’t moved but was scanning the perimeter. You couldn’t have gone far, with your abilities, he knew you were trying to stall for time. You were like a ghost, slipping through the cracks and seams.

He lets out a cold chuckle, as if knowing exactly where you are, though even he couldn’t see you. “You really think you can hide from me?” His tone was colder, sharper.

Without hesitation, he shot forward, his body spiraling forward with immense speed and precision. The air itself shuddered around him as he tore through it, a blur of power and rage. You shifted to the side, avoiding the devastating punch that would’ve shattered you in an instant.

You almost tripped, momentarily visible, but before he could track your movements, you blurred out of sight again, leaving a singular trace of your presence. You were tense, terrified of his capabilities to kill you in an instant. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you were sure he could hear it from above.

This was the first step, staying out of his sight. You peeked at him slowly, feeling the air shift with every movement he took.

Suddenly, Mark stopped and turned his head, eyes narrowing. “I can feel you. You can’t be invisible forever.”

You slipped behind a crumbling pillar, fathering your focus. This time, you reappeared out of thin air. You summoned a force field, a shimmering wall of energy that surrounded you like an invisible shield. Your hand extended, and with a thought, you shaped it, making the force field extend outward as a curved barrier in front of you.

Mark flew toward you, his body moving at lightning speed. Before he could land a punch, you activate the force field, raising between the two of you two. His fist collided with the barrier with an ear-splitting crack, as the force of the impact sent shockwaves through the air. He staggered back, his surprise evident as he gritted his teeth.

“You think a wall will stop me?” he scoffed.

You smiled, only slightly. “It’s not just a wall.”

You expanded the force field outward with a burst of energy, sending it toward him like a tidal wave. This caught him off-guard, knocking him backward and sending him crashing into a pile of rubble. He groaned, trying to push himself up. His arrogance was still there, knowing you’d just ticked him off.

When he rose to his feet, you phased out of the visibility, disappearing again silently drifting through the air. You weren’t just hiding, you were waiting for the right moment.

His eyes scanned the area.

Before you could summon another force field, without warning, he shot his fist, punching through the air toward your previous position, hitting the ground with explosive force until there was nothing left in his path. Your invisibility faltered momentarily, revealing your position for a split second, just enough time for him to latch his eyes on you.

And then he slammed his fist into you before you could react, sending you tumbling backward into the broken street. The blast shook your balance, your head spinning, yet you managed to summon a small force field just in time to shield you away from the debris and fall.

“Had enough yet?” Sinister Invincible taunts, hovering above you. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew he was looking at you with distasteful disdain. “Or would you prefer I make it quick?”

Before you could answer, a sickly distortion ripped through the air, warping space and time around you. The world seemed to twist in on itself, as your senses exploded, running in every single direction like being caught in the middle of a violent storm. Everything spun, everything shifted.

In a blaze of neon green, the city was gone.

You felt the ground crack beneath you as you were swept away from your surroundings, pulled through space and time into an entirely different location. The world around you shifted, the landscape morphing and distorting like it was falling apart. You activate your force field instinctively, as you shield yourself from instant shifts. The change overwhelmed your senses, and your heart raced. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked around, disoriented.

There was nothing. The landscape was barren – cracked earth, shattered remnants of buildings, jarring metal from the ground like skeletons of a dead city. The sky was an eerie, sickly blue, the only thing you realized that was normal from this reality. There was no sign of life, only the depressive atmosphere. It was a world where hope had died long ago.

“What the hell just happened?”

#invincible #invincible s3 #invincible show #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #invincible war #sinister invincible #sinister invincible x reader #sinister mark #invincible variants

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bunny-jpeg · 6 months ago

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kink-o-ween - day twelve

max verstappen - rivals

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, ferrari driver!reader, bickering & arguing, rough sex, references to marriage and kids, , missionary

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

max verstappen would rather choke on dinner than be nice to you. he'd rather never swear on the track, have his car get fully busted and never win a championship again than be nice to you.

you became his rival early on. while your fathers raced together, he never thought you'd ever end up in formula one. he could honestly remember good times together as children. playing around the garage and getting into all kinds of trouble.

but it wasn't until he saw you take your helmet off in your teens. you ahead of him by over twenty seconds, that you weren't the playful little girl you once were. you were a threat on the track which only became more apparent when you both entered formula one.

"verstappen, you shouldn't have! how did you know it was almost my birthday!" you said with fake cheer in your voice as you approached him after the dutch grand prix. you beamed at him as you said, "giving me the championship on your home track." you made a face, "you shouldn't have!"

max felt his eye twitch a little from your words. the anger that raced through his body. he wanted to put you on your knees and teach you a lesson. instead he smiled, the cameras were on him. it was his press smile, that hid a seething anger. he held out his hand and said, "congratulations."

if he had to describe how he felt about you. it would be, violent desire.

"these stupid fucking buttons." he said as he tried his best to be careful about getting all the buttons of your blouse undone, "you know you can wear t-shirts right? you don't have to dress up." he knew you did it make him angrier, as if the trophy in your hotel room wasn't enough to send the man into a seething anger.

"ah, well, max. good things come to those who wait." you carded your fingers through his short hair. and you watched his jaw tense. you yelped when he grabbed the blouse and tugged on it hard enough that the cheap buttons tore from the holes and ended up on the floor. you tried to jump back but he pulled you by the front of the shirt and pulled you in for a searing kiss.

he groaned against your lips. he didn't have time for these stupid games. he didn't have time for you to be a bitch to him. he needed you, he needed you like he needed that win.

and since he didn't get that win, he was going to get you.

when you pulled away from the kiss, you shoved him back and yelled, "my blouse you fucking prick! what am i supposed to wear when i leave?"

max shrugged, "you didn't care about being a whore before, why start now?" then got the shirt off your shoulders which exposed your top half to him. he eyed your breasts for a moment and licked his lips.

you shoved him and he grabbed you by the waist until your bodies were pressed up against one another. you looked into his blue eyes and pouted, "i'm not a slut."

max smiled a little, "i know. because i don't fuck whores. and you wouldn't let anyone else fuck you. you would never let another man touch what is mine." his smile grew as he invaded your space more.

you made a face. you wanted to tell him off, but if you lied and said you slept with other people, he'd simply call you a slut. you shoved him and started to take off your pants, eventually you stood there almost naked in his hotel room.

max licked his lips like you were prey and took off his t-shirt. you couldn't help but admire his body, you tried not to leer the way he did to you. but he knew you were looking. then like a familiar dance, you ended up on the bed.

the rest of the clothes were shed, your bra, his socks, your panties, his jeans. you even got to take his briefs off and get into bed naked with him. you nails dragged down his chest as he chuckled. he curled into you, taking you by the face and kissing you.

"this is how i like you." he said, "no like a yappy dog. under me, beautiful as always." he kissed you on the lips. it had the chance to be tender, but with max it rarely ever was.

"i bet you do. you like when women sit and down shut up." you held onto his wrists. your gazes met and you made a face at him before he pulled you in for another searing kiss.

"no, no." he replied when he pulled away from the kiss, "not all women. just you. i like when you get on your knees and shut up for a while." he pressed his forehead against yours before he kissed you once more. he heard you moan against his lips and he shuddered with excitement. you sounded beautiful.

"why? you just hate that i'm right? you hate that i'm better than you!"

max made a face at you before he grabbed you by the hips once more, "you, better than me? oh, don't make me laugh." he sneered almost. but the anger faded when the two of you started to kiss once more. you felt your heart racing in your chest.

he rubbed his hard cock up against you and you groaned a little bit. you clung to his shoulders as he inched himself inside of you. you groaned a little and max savoured your sweet sounds. you sounded perfect against him. your voice was a harmony in his brain as he moved against you.

"you will never beat me, max."

he chuckled as he pushed into your further, your legs wrapped around his waist. he really rocked into you. he said lowly with his voice rattled in your head, "i don't have to defeat you in order to win. not when i have you pinned under me. you let me fuck you, if you had it your way we'd be doing this all day."

"i'm not a whore." you snipped at him.

"i never said you were." liar, "i just know you want me. you yearn to drive, but you yearn for me more. you yearn to be better than me."

you swallowed as you clung to him further, "i am better."

he chuckled and just before he kissed you, he said, "you will be. eventually. but for now, you just look perfect under my touch. maybe if you're lucky there will be a seat beside me next year. give you some real competition."

it was an idea he had thought about before, while he was close with perez, the idea of you on the same team as him did leave him excited. you in the red bull kit, having to be nice to max in front of the cameras. it also meant less time sneaking around. you'd be as close as you could get, max could have you as much as he wanted.

"right, right. but, you'd hate it." you clawed at his shoulders, "you'd hate if you were second fiddle to me. the greatest verstappen's fall from grace."

he looked at you, his face a bit flushed. but there was a dangerous look in his eye, "you think so highly of yourself, don't you? you think you're god's gift to racing." he pressed into you further, his pace quickly picked up as soon you were pinned to him as he fucked you. he loved you because you stood toe to toe with him, and while it was never resolved over some liquor and laughs. it was even better to bully your cunt into submission.

"because i am."

he bit back, "then prove it on the track." before he kissed you once more. the bed shifted under the both of you while he fucked you heavily. he trapped you under him, your noises muffled by his lips on yours.

you could feel your heartbeat rapidly in your chest as the two of you fucked. you would forever stand toe to toe with him, you would bust his balls on the track and always take a mile when he gave you an inch.

he was your rival, and you were his. even if you both ended up in bed together more often than not. no matter how many times you spat venom at one another, it would always be resolved with passionate kisses and hot sex in other countries.

you dug your short nails into his shoulders as he continued to move against you. you breathed heavily, matching max's as the two of you fucked. he hissed a little when your held on tighter, enough to leave red lines across his pale back.

a voice in the back of your head knew that if it weren't for racing. if you two lived normal lives, attended school and had jobs. you two would probably be married. it would've been a fairytale romance, but instead you were both racers. your hearts were fueled by motor oil. and to an extent, each other.

max kissed you once more and you arched your back a little, feeling the pleasure race up your back. it felt amazing. you felt amazing. the two of you continued to move and it wasn't long before you were holding onto him tightly.

you grasped him tightly and pressed kisses on his shoulder as his pace started to stagger. you both wouldn't hold out much longer, by evidence of how you two weren't bickering.

instead replaced with heavy breathing and kissing.

"fuck, i'm cumming." he groaned soon after. you were both playing a risky game when he finished inside of you. but he kept up the pace to make you finish, even kissing at the sensitive parts of your neck and feeling you clench around him.

you came soon after him with one last searing kiss before you both relaxed against the bed. max laid on top of you for a moment and kissed at your neck. he wanted to feel the closeness of you against him.

"you're crushing me." you said before max got next to you and on the bed with his arm draped over your shoulders. in these quiet moments in hotel rooms far from home.

you felt like lovers. tomorrow you'd go back to the snide remarks the need to push one another to be the best. you two kissed one another in the comfort of a hotel room. tomorrow was another day, and that meant another race.

"nope!" you said with your hands on your hips.

max looked at you from his car. he was testing before the new season. he raised his eyebrows, "was my time not as good?" he looked past you to the employee of red bull racing running the testing.

you spoke for him, "testing doesn't mean running the car through the goddamn ringer!"

max rolled his eyes and got out of the car. he was in your space as he took his helmet off. putting it into the car. he was sweaty and flushed in the face.

"oh, really, mrs. verstappen? who died and made you the head engineer?" he beamed at you. the same sarcastic grin that got you into the mess you were in now.

you gave him the same smile back with a bit more sarcasm, "when you got me fucking pregnant." then stuck your tongue out at him. max grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him.

"i know, i know. you'll hang it over my hand until the day i die." he smiled at you before he kissed you softly on the lips. you'd always be able to get under one another's skin. that was the nature of your relationship. but now that you two were having a child, it meant that max had to race harder. win for the both of you. because just as you wouldn't expect anything less for yourself, you wouldn't expect anything less from your husband. <3

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m1stm3 · 1 month ago

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now playing…

angel by massive attack

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

yandere asylum therapist! suguru x reader

my first ever dark content/yandere oneshot aaaaaa!!! plsss thoroughly go through the cw’s before reading ^^;

read the prequel here!!! :)

cw’s!!: non-consensual drugging, mentions of needles/syringes, medical malpractice, descriptions of violence (gutting, beating someone to death, etc.), mentions/romanticization of cannibalism, blood eating, medical abuse (???), gn! reader, no use of y/n, uhhhh freaky suguru. like he’s actually crazy (but so are u) and uhhh i think that’s it?? ^^;

wc: 1.3k (what.)

“how have you been feeling?” your therapists voice is soft, just barely loud enough for you to hear. it’s like he’s trying to grasp at any sense of normalcy, as if any of this was normal. your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you move to look at him, a deadly look in your dazed, slow-blinking eyes.

he completely disregards your glare with nothing but a growing smirk, shifting to adjust your position on his lap. “i see you’ve taken well to the sedatives.” his cold hand grazes your bare arm as he speaks and you have to resist the urge to use all of the strength you have left to throw yourself onto the floor just to get away from him. you decided against it. you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that.

suguru’s a charming man. every nurse, therapist, and criminal in this hellhole of an institution knew that. maybe that’s why he clung to you like this. you saw through him, had threatened to knock his teeth out just because you found his smile unsettling in the preliminary meeting (“a convenient way to find your perfect fit!” is what one of the brochures had read).

a few weeks later he was your primary therapist. the only one allowed to see you for sessions and the only one able to prescribe what medicine you took.

this time it was a strong sedative administered by needle, only given to you the one day a week you saw him for your “sessions”. he seemed to enjoy this one, considering how he hadn’t switched the prescription in almost a month (though you were sure he was upping the dose every week, there was no other explanation for the way the syringe seemed to get more and more full every time you saw the nurses holding it).

it’s only now that he seemed to notice the narrow-eyed expression you were giving him. “aw, don’t look at me like that… it’s for my safety, angel. i can’t have you lashing out and hurting me, can i?” his palm rests on your cheek and as much as you will the muscles in your neck to jerk away from his touch, it still doesn’t work. only a small grunt leaves you and that sound only heightens the amusement in his eyes.

“m’gonna fuckin’ kill you…” you manage to strain out. you despise how weak your voice sounds. you despise the way his eyebrow quirks up in interest in response to your threat. you despise how his voice comes out a low, patronizing purr when he asks “oh, are you?” because he knows you will. he knows that if he lowers your dose you won’t hesitate to hunt him down. he’s seen your files, he knows.

you let out a shaky breath at his words, that deadly glare in your eyes never faltering as your head nods in response to his question (though he’d barely constitute it as a nod, more like a subtle twitch of your muscles). “m’gonna gut you… cut you alllll the way from your bellybutton to your fuckin’ throat…” you can feel the delirium from your medication settling in when you’re halfway through speaking, but that doesn’t stop you.

“how gruesome.” is all he hums, a deep, twisted glint of admiration in his gaze. “you’ve certainly grown more creative.” the pad of his thumb presses into your bottom lip as he speaks. he seems almost satisfied with your violent description, like you’d just given him the greatest gift he could possibly ask for (to him, it was).

he couldn’t help but feel touched by your words, how you planned something particularly torturous just to bring him as much pain as possible. the way you hurt people — at least before you were admitted — was concise and unmeditated. someone made you lose your temper so you hurt them, plain and simple as that. you were only able to plead insanity because of the way you “blacked out”, only noticing the soreness in your arms (and the brain matter in your hair) after you had beat a man to death.

so for you — a patient with uncontrollable violent outbursts — to plan something specific just for him? oh, he could feel the pleasant chill rolling down his spine. how would you do it, suguru wondered. would you steal a scalpel from the nurses or a knife from the kitchen? would the way you cut him open be clean — planned, even — or would you just hack at his skin until you were satisfied? he could almost imagine the way you’d pin him down (not like you had to, he’d let you see his insides if you asked politely enough) and run the cool metal over his abdomen before he felt the sharp contrast of the warmth of his blood trickling down his skin. he could only hope he would be alive long enough to see the crimson tainting the pretty skin of your hands, getting under your nails and sinking into the grooves of your palms, absorbing every drop of him.

suguru was so lost in his fantasies that he didn’t notice the way you had squinted at his far away expression, a muscle in your jaw giving a small twitch. maybe if you…

suguru also didn’t notice the way you had managed to slowly pry your jaw open, the tip of his thumb now resting against the ridges of your bottom row of teeth. at least, he didn’t notice until you miraculously willed your jaw to snap shut, the metallic taste on your tongue bringing you a primal sense of satisfaction (you would’ve preferred to bite the the tip of his thumb clean off to teach him a lesson, but this would do).

and oh, you would’ve laughed in his face if you could when you heard that strangled little gasp leave his lips. you relished in the way he watched you with a dumbfounded look, his usually piercing eyes opened wide in surprise.

your victory was disturbingly short lived, though. his shock quickly turned into something almost giddy with the way his eyes seemed to light up like a child who was just handed their favorite toy. he forced his thumb deeper into your mouth, his head cocking to the side almost observantly. “how do i taste, angel? hm?” there’s a crazed look in his eyes. you feel like you’re getting dissected. “maybe you should eat me after you cut me open, yeah? i’d let you, you have my permission.” he’s all too eager to give you more ideas, more ways to torture him even after death.

his arm snakes around your middle so he can press a palm to your stomach. “i’d be with you forever… wouldn’t you like that, angel?” he murmurs lowly by your ear. you don’t have the strength to answer anymore, your eyes blinking slower… and slower…

he holds you tight as you slump against him, (the sedatives make you intensely drowsy… it doesn’t help that he had prescribed you double the recommended amount) making a mental note to up your dosage once again. he can’t risk you building up some sort of immunity, can he? if the force of your bite was any indication, he’d have to find a new medicine for you within the next month or two (not like it was any hassle on his end. if anything, he was excited to see your adorably pathetic attempts to brute force your way through the daze of a new drug).

he just had to keep you here with him… you’d learn to love it.

to love him.

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unconventional-lawnchair · 6 months ago

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His Scrubs

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: A dedicated nurse in Gotham starts caring for the injured vigilante Red Hood, leading to a complicated bond between them. As their relationship deepens, she grapples with her feelings and the chaos of his violent world.

CW: No use of Y/N, mentions of blood, death, violence, trauma, survivors guilt, readers going through it and Jason is not helping, gn!reader

Wc: 5941

Working as a nurse in Gotham was a unique kind of hell. Your mentor, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, used to tell you that there was a special place in heaven for those who dedicated themselves to caring for the broken and battered souls of Gotham. The city, with its towering skyscrapers and shadowy alleys, was a paradox of beauty and despair. As a nurse, you witnessed the aftermaths of violence you never thought possible, the toll of addiction that ran generations, and the consequences of a society teetering on the brink.

Each shift brought a new wave of patients, the stories of their lives etched into their weary faces. You had learned to compartmentalize the chaos. To save yourself from the heart break younger you would face every time you would get to go home.

The survivor’s guilt destroyed you, you'd come home to your safe warm apartment, the stark contrast between your life and the lives of those you treated weighed heavily on your conscience. You would sit in your cozy living room, a cup of tea warming your hands, while the images of trauma and suffering replayed in your mind like a never-ending loop. Each laugh from the children in your neighborhood felt like a reminder of the laughter you had fought so hard to save; the laughter of those who didn’t make it, who had succumbed to the darkness of Gotham’s streets.

It got so much worse when Red Hood emerged. You despised him.

Forgetting his more violent approach, he sent more and more souls to your halls then you could count. Not the sympathetic ones, not the ones you wanted to care for. The monsters, the villains, men and women you considered a blessing to never see. People who sent most of the souls you mourned right to you.

That bitter anger is what prompted your switch to the day shift. You wanted- no, needed to get away from it. The day shift had its fair share of horrors and the lack of freedom was draining, but it meant that most of your patients were people you wanted to help.

Though, it came with its own downsides. Your pay dropped, your hours were longer, and now, you had to walk home at night. Walking home through Gotham’s shadowy streets after a long shift was a gamble with fate. The city, saturated in darkness, felt alive with danger. Danger you knew intimately. Every alley seemed to have eyes you couldn't see, and every corner could hide a lurking threat. What's worse is you knew first hand what could happen.

Not that you had a choice. You had traded the chaos of the night shift for the uncertainty of twilight; it was a decision that filled you with dread as well as relief.

You clutched your bag tight against your side, the familiar weight of your stethoscope a reminder of your purpose, even as the fear prickled at the back of your mind. Not bothering to change at the hospital, not risking it getting any later. The streets were quieter now, but that only made the ambient sounds of the city, distant sirens, the scuffle of rats, the occasional shout, more pronounced. You quickened your pace, your heart pounding against your chest with every step.

You made it to your shitty apartments, walking through your grounds and avoiding your vile neighbors. The old lady who insisted she heard every small sound you made after 8pm, the horrid teenagers who would do anything for the cash in your bag, and that awful married man from down the hall who took any chance away from his wife to make you as uncomfortable as possible.

When you made it to your door, you were quick to enter and lock it behind you. All three latches you had installed as well. The second you walked in the cold night was shoved away, warmth and bright yellows painted the portrait of a cozy home. A life you had made.

Yet, the paranoia never left. As you walked over to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You leaned against the counter, the coolness of the granite grounding you as you took a deep breath. The familiar sounds of your modest apartment greeted your ears. It was all the same, the hum of the refrigerator, the distant murmurs of the city outside it was always a comfort, yet they also felt like a mask hiding the lurking dangers beyond your walls.

As you sipped your water, your eyes wandered to the living room. Your eyes lingered on your darkened window that was on the fire escape. Not your favorite thing, which is why you installed black out curtains. Staring at it longer, you noticed something that made your heart sink.

Your curtains were opened. Yet the window was still dark, hardly letting any light in. At first, your mind tricked you into believing that maybe, possibly, there were eyes in the darkness. Staring at you, waiting for you to just make one wrong move. But when your eyes processed what they were receiving, you were rushed with a very familiar panic. It was red.

Your windows were absolutely painted with blood.

Your own blood surged through you like ice water, freezing you in place. The sight of the deep red streaks contrasting against the dark glass made your heart race. You blinked once, twice, three times, willing your mind to process what you were seeing. Was it real? Had it come from outside, or was it a figment of your exhaustion-induced imagination? Your mind wandered to the worse. Was it from inside?

But the metallic scent that wafted in from the window confirmed your worst fears; the air was thick with the unmistakable odor of blood.

You willed yourself to walk over. A guilty form of relief heated your veins when you saw no evidence the blood had, at any point, entered your home.

Then came the problem, do you open the window? Or do you keep it closed? Do you check on whoever or what ever was hurt? Or do you look the other way? Part of you wanted to turn away. Call the police and leave it to them.

But fuck, the paid hero you were, you couldn't stop yourself.

The anticipation was killing you. So as your fingers brushed the lock on your window, you flinched away for just a moment.

Then, you pushed it open quickly. Getting it over with, hoping your bleeding heart wouldn't be the death of you.

You covered your nose with your sleeve, staring out of the still dripping window, avoiding the fresh blood. You narrowed your eyes into the darkness only for your eyes to lock with a pair of piercing white slits. They were glaring at the window the second it opened, and you were greeted with none other then the Red Hood.

You stared him down, lips tightened in a firm line. He was covered in blood, holding his side, leaning against the wall and panting. Even in his clear pain he took the time out of his day, so selflessly, to stare into your eyes with a death glare.

You were an idiot.

Red Hood. Vigilante, murderer, anti hero, a right monster, just stared at you.

You knew your old mentor, how she used to care for the bats on their worst days. You wondered, just for a moment, if that's why he was here. Holding his gaze in absolute silence.

“You're bleeding.” You huffed at him and his eye slits narrowed. As if to say ‘No shit. Fix it.’

The tension between you was palpable, a charged silence hanging in the air. You took a deep breath, the metallic scent of blood mixing with the familiar smell of your home, and it made your stomach churn. “What do you want?” You asked, trying to sound more assertive than you felt.

“I need help.” He scoffed, his voice slightly strained, but there was an urgency beneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “I can’t go to the hospital. Not like this.”

“Of course you can’t.” You snapped, bitterness lacing your words. “You’d probably scare half the staff into quitting.”

He winced and after just a second or two of staring at each other you stepped into your house. Leaving the window open for him to slip in. You assumed he took the hint, as your window was slammed shut behind you.

You were quick to grab your emergency kit from the bathroom. When you returned, he was laying back on your coffee table. He must have remembered that from being treated by Leslie before. He was dozing in and out, and as you finally approached him, you could see the blood pooling on the table and down to the floor beneath him, a stark reminder of the urgency of the situation.

“Stay awake.” You ordered, your voice firm as you knelt beside him. “I need you conscious if I’m going to help you.”

He grunted in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m trying.”

You could hear his teeth grinding and you simply didn't respond. “You're overheating.” You commented. “Take off your helmet.”

“Like hell.” He hissed and you scoffed, starting to work. Cutting through his suit without much complaint from him.

“You come to my house in the middle of the night and can't even follow simple instructions?” You hissed back. Like two cats locked, your voices could be mistaken as snarls to anyone listening in.

“Oh fuck off.” He snapped and let his head lull back, his eyes blurring. You snapped your fingers in front of his face as you took in his abdomen. Two gun shots.

“Unfortunately this is my damn apartment.” Your tone was sharper than you intended, but the urgency of the moment was drowning out any lingering resentment you felt toward him. “And I’m not about to let you bleed out on my coffee table. So either help me help you, or I’ll drag you to a hospital myself.”

He chuckled weakly, the sound gurgling in his throat, which only added to your frustration. “You know, you’re not very nurse like.”

“I'm off the clock.” You rolled your eyes as you began to clean the wound. “I’m about to throw you out if you don’t stop talking.”

He let out a labored breath, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth- not that you can see it. But god could you hear it. “You’re just arguing with me to keep me awake, aren’t you?”

“... just keep your eyes open, Red Hood. You're not as charming as you think.” You shot back, concentrating on the task at hand. “Or maybe you'd like to take your chances with the hospital instead?”

“Seems like you’re doing a pretty good job, don't doubt yourself.” He snarked, his voice slightly slurred, fatigue creeping in despite your efforts. Still, in what could be his final moments, he found the audacity to be sarcastic with you.

You didn’t respond, focusing on cleaning the wound with swift, practiced motions. The sight of the jagged edges of the bullet wound made your stomach churn, but you pushed the nausea aside.

You had treated countless wounds like this before, but somehow, this felt different. The adrenaline coursing through you mixed with a sense of dread that you couldn’t shake. Every second mattered, and yet here he was- this man who brought chaos into your life- laying in your apartment, bleeding out while making quips like it was just another day.

“Just breathe.” You once again ordered, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your mind. “I need you to focus on that. In and out, nice and slow.”

He nodded slightly, the movement causing him to grimace. You could see the sweat glistening on his neck, and his breath came in labored gasps. You hurriedly worked to clean the wound and apply a dressing, but the sight of the blood made your heart race.

“Who did this to you?” You muttered absentmindedly, trying to keep the conversation going. It was a tactic you often used with patients to distract them from the pain.

“Just another night in Gotham.” His voice was strained but laced with that same dark humor. “You know how it is. Bad guys, good guys, everyone in between.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You snarked as you applied pressure to stop the bleeding. “You think you’re funny? Dying anti hero?”

“I have been told I am.” He smirked again, not that you could see it, his tone playful despite his condition. “But you’re the real hero here, yeah? Playing nurse to a monster like me.”

You paused for a moment, looking him dead in the eye-slits, swallowing thick. “You're not a monster. Not in my home.” You corrected, the sound of tearing elastics and the ripping of tape sounded out in your empty apartment, as you got the bandages. “You're my patient.”

He stopped speaking, and for a fleeting moment, the bravado he usually wore like armor slipped away. "Your patient.” He echoed, a hint of something almost vulnerable beneath the sarcasm. "Well, I guess that makes me lucky."

You shook your head, forcing yourself to remain focused on the task at hand. "You're not lucky, Red Hood. You're just in a lot of trouble, and I need you to stay with me while I help you."

He let out a low chuckle that quickly turned into a wince, the pain evident in his covered eyes. You had to admire the expressive mask, it kept you keen on his emotions. “You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Special isn’t the word I’d use.” You mumbled, your fingers deftly applying more pressure before you began to wrap his torso and start on the next wound.

You both slipped into a comfortable silence. Eventually, you turned on the tv, and he seemed to actually be interested in whatever nonsense was playing. Some black and white movie, dramatic and sappy.

You spent the next few hours cleaning and inspecting each wound. You managed to get him to drink some of your juice, eat some plain crackers, and by the time you cleaned up after everything, he had disappeared from your couch where you had shifted him.

He had taken his ruined tattered uniform with him, but left a lovely gift in his potent blood that stained your table and floor boards. You weren't surprised he left, more annoyed he didn't even bother to thank you.

But what did you expect from the ‘monster’ that was Red Hood?

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the mess he’d left behind. Pushing away the ridiculous concept that your night had become. The stark contrast of the blood against your clean, modest apartment felt like a personal affront. You had spent so much time trying to create a safe haven for yourself, only for it to be tainted by the chaos of the man you tried to escape.

The silence of the apartment was deafening now. As you cleaned up the blood with a damp cloth, you couldn’t shake the feeling of anger mixed with concern. Why did you care? Why did you even help him? You should have just called the cops and let them deal with it. He was a wanted criminal.

But the truth was, despite everything he represented- the violence, the lawlessness, the depravity- you had seen a flicker of humanity in him. He wasn’t just a monster; he was a man shaped by the same city that had shaped you. You understood that all too well. Bitterly, you wondered what had gone so wrong for you to choose nurture and for him to choose violence.

“Ugh.” You muttered to yourself, tossing the bloodied cloth in the trash. “What am I doing?”

You sank onto the couch, the adrenaline from the night finally wearing off. Your body slid to the floor and you shook with leftover shock.

You leaned back against the couch, your mind racing. The events of the night played on a loop, each moment echoing in your thoughts. How did it come to this? You had always been the one to help, to heal, yet here you were, embroiled in the chaos of Gotham’s underbelly, caring for the very personification of its violence.

The weight of your emotions pressed down on you, suffocating in its intensity. Frustration, anger, and an inexplicable concern for the man who had just bled all over your coffee table. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“Get it together.” You whispered. You could almost hear Dr. Leslie, reminding you that everyone deserved to be saved. To be safe. No questions asked.

Well, you did two out of the three.

~~~

It became a routine, much to your dismay.

He came back days later, hurt again. You tended to him and you soon learned that you had rewarded bad behavior. Reinforcing this idea that you were some ally to him.

You reminded him of Dr. Leslie, that she was still available and willing to help, that she made a life of her golden heart. You did not.

Yet, the meetings became frequent. You began to leave your window unlatched, something he scolded you for. He was suddenly incredibly comfortable with raising his voice with you. That wasn't all.

Also comfortable with eating your dinner, watching your tv, demanding sympathy like a child. All under the idea that you were his nurse.

Most of your nights now entailed you cooking more than normal, to feed the behemoth of a man. He'd sneak in through your window and latch it locked. Or on your ruined coffee table and you would tend to him, feed him, and he would linger longer every time.

When he wasn't draining your supplies and food, he was watching you on your walked to and from work, making a routine of ensuring you made it home safely.

You hated to admit it. He was growing on you.

But every time he slipped through your window, each time he left behind traces of blood and chaos, a part of you felt like it was being chipped away. You had wanted to create a sanctuary, a respite from the horrors you witnessed at the hospital. Instead, you were becoming a refuge for the very chaos you tried to escape.

The first few nights after his first visit were filled with uncertainty. You found it hard to sleep, the memories of his bloodied form etched into your mind. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the sounds of his labored breathing and the sharpness of his pain. You had saved him, but at what cost? Each time he returned, you felt the line blur between patient and something else.

Days turned into weeks, and with each passing encounter, the boundaries you had desperately tried to maintain began to crumble under his comfortable behavior. You found yourself looking forward to his visits, despite the chaos they brought. Of course, you would never wish harm upon him. The initial anger at his reckless behavior transformed into concern, and then, surprisingly, a reluctant fondness.

He was breaking you down so perfectly. You knew he knew what he was doing too.

The nights he showed up were a mix of tension and reluctant familiarity. Sometimes he would come in badly injured, and you would patch him up, your hands moving with practiced efficiency, your heart pounding in your chest. Other times, he would arrive with only minor scrapes, a smirk in his voice, teasing you about your nursing skills or the state of your apartment.

“Rather cozy and plush for a nurse in this city.” He teased, leaning back into your pillow covered couch and groaned a bit as you continued to reset his middle finger.

“If you keep coming to me with these injuries you can fix yourself, I might just start locking my window again.” You huffed and he scoffed.

“Good.” He grumbled, taking his hand and rubbing his wrist. “Lots of freaks out there.”

“That's why I have you.” You scoffed and stood up, his eyes following you as he watched you go to the kitchen and grab a water bottle. He never took off his mask, he was glad for that now, he was positive his pupils were twice their normal size.

He liked it. That you took comfort in him. That he was your safety.

Because it was around that time that he admitted to himself that you were his safety too.

It was a strange and unexpected partnership that had formed between you two. Each encounter layered new complexity onto the already tangled web of your lives. You were both broken souls in a city that thrived on chaos, drawn together by circumstances neither of you could control.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself caught in a delicate dance. You would joke, bicker, and even share the occasional comfortable silence while watching old movies or eating meals together. He would often tease you about your habits, the way you meticulously organized your medical supplies, or how you always had to have the TV on for background noise. Just how human you seemed for a, as he called it, hero of the day.

You would ask him if that made him the hero of the night, but he didn't seem too keen on it.

“You know, it’s okay to have a little chaos in your life.” He would say, flashing you that infuriating smirk, his mask curled up to the bottom of his nose so he could enjoy the meal you made, that somehow managed to make your heart race. Trying not to think too hard about how sharp his teeth were. You wondered if he filed them. No way in hell they were natural. “You’re in Gotham, after all.”

“Not every part of Gotham has to be chaotic, Red Hood.” You would sigh, your hands on your hips, trying to maintain your authority. But even as you said it, you felt a warmth spread through you. You were beginning to appreciate the lightness he brought into your otherwise heavy existence.

Then came the day when he showed up with a gift- a half-eaten pizza, the grease soaking through the cardboard box. He had barged in through your window, an air of triumph surrounding him.

“I figured you could use a little junk food after all the healthy food you've been feeding me.” He chuckled, plopping it down on your coffee table, now permanently stained from his previous visits.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. At least you didn't have to dirty your hands tonight. “You think a pizza is going to make up for all the blood you’ve left on this table?”

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye slits. “It’s a start.”

And just like that, the boundaries you had set began to dissolve even further. You found yourself laughing more, enjoying the absurdity of the situation. You were a nurse tending to a vigilante in the heart of Gotham, and yet, with each shared moment, it felt strangely normal.

But the thought nagged at you; was this a good idea? You were still aware of the risks, the danger that came with his lifestyle. The chaos, the violence, the unending cycle of pain. You had seen it all too clearly in your line of work. But somehow, amidst the chaos he brought, you also found a strange sort of peace.

Yet you still let him in, you still fed him, you still spent time you should of spent sleeping, watching tv until you fell asleep. You hadn't realized how domestic his visits had become. Until he was on your couch, face down, shirt off, while you straddled his back.

You ran your palms along his shoulders, having forgotten which one of his many teasing comments had led to this. He was sweaty, his back rippled with red, and he was trying to pretend he wasn't aching. He groaned, low, into the couch as you continued to work your thumbs through the insane amount of knots.

You could truly appreciate how much bigger he was then you like this. Your hands barely fit over the small of his back, even as you pressed your wrists together and pushed down. You pressed deeper, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath your palms. It was a strange position to be in. Straddling both him and the line between caregiver and something that you both have been avoiding since this began. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way he clenched his fists into the fabric of the couch as you worked. Breathing heavy and the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

“Is this how you treat all your patients?” His voice was muffled but laced with that familiar teasing tone.

“Only you, unfortunately.” A playful smirk tugged at your lips. Able to tell just how much he was struggling to take a full breath from under his mask.

He shifted slightly beneath you, the movement sending a spark through your body. “What a lucky guy I am.” He mumbled, though there was an edge to his voice, a mix of teasing and the strain of pain that lingered in his tone. “You should charge for this kind of therapy.”

“Therapy? Is that what you think this is?” You quipped back, trying to keep the atmosphere light. The truth was, you were painfully aware of how intimate this was. He lifted his hips to shift himself on your couch, lifting you up with him like you were nothing. You don't want to think about how different this would be if he was on his back instead.

You caught your breath, the sudden shift in his weight causing your heart to race. The closeness was distracting, his warmth radiating against your skin, and you fought against the urge to lean into him. The tension between you was disorienting, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you, caught in this strange and fragile place where boundaries blurred.

“Yeah, therapy.” His tone was lighter now, but there was a seriousness buried beneath it. “You know, you could probably make a killing with all the heroes and villains in this town. Just think about it: Gotham’s very own nurse, providing ‘aftercare’ for the weary souls.”

“Or you know, I could just run for the hills and pretend I never met you.” You shot back, trying to deflect the weight of the moment.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “That's alright… you can keep this just for me.”

“Just for you? You would be so special.” You scoffed and tried to ignore how your body seemed to respond positively to his more possessive tone.

His eyes, hidden behind the mask, seemed to glimmer with amusement, and you could almost hear the crude smirk in his voice as he replied, “Oh, I’m definitely special. You’d be surprised how many people want my ‘aftercare’...”

“Fuck off.” You huffed before you began to apply more pressure, making him groan louder into the pillows. You slowly pressed your thumbs against his back dimples, hearing another low groan reverberate in his helmet.

“You know, you can take that off.” You huffed and he seemed to stiffen all the knots you worked so hard to untangle. “Hey-”

“I'm fine.” He huffed and slowly relaxed under your fingers again.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, a mix of bravado and vulnerability, and it made your heart race. “You’re clearly not fine.” You muttered, your voice softer now, a hint of concern creeping into your tone. “You’re hurt, and I’m not about to let you pretend otherwise while I’m trying to help you.”

He shifted again, this time with a hint of irritation. “I'm not-”

“I don't have to see.”

“What?” He whispered, a bit bewildered. You climbed off of his back and pretended you didn't hear what you could almost distinguish as a whine leaving him. You could feel his eyes on you as you picked up one of your larger silk clothes. You turned to him and walked over, he sat up, staring up at you as you stood before him.

“It's only fair. You won't relax like that.” You mumbled and lifted it to your face. With a bit of a struggle, you managed to tie the cloth around your eyes. Suddenly plunged into darkness, instinctively reaching out to grab his forearms. “See? Can't see a thing.”

He scoffed, but wasn't able to help how he admired your more oblivious state. He was used to your shameless challenges, your demanded presence, your snarky comments. But now? You were perfectly content and calm. Even your tone shifted the second you did it.

You were being weak with him.

It didn't help that everything he wanted to say was caught in his throat. Your lips parted ever so slightly, he could just see the top of your teeth peaking through your lips. You looked absolutely exposed and he had to do his best to shove away the more unkind thoughts he had.

Still, the room was thick with tension. Eventually, he lifted his hand, holding up a few fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You scoffed with a laugh, looking to the side a bit and moving your hands to run over his large bicep, down to his forearm, up to his hand. And your fingers ghosted over his own. Smirking to yourself at your win. “Three.”

“Fucking hell.” He whispered your name, soft, careful, before he moved his arms. You were curious at first, until you heard the soft clicks of something metallic, and something falling to the floor. “You'll be the death of me, yeah?” He muttered and a shock ran down your spine.

That was new. It was the first time you've ever heard his voice. His actual voice. You ran your hands up his chest and slowly up his neck. Your fingertips ghosting over his jaw line and neck, making him release a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

“Hood?” You whispered, and he let out a shaky groan, as your thumb traveled up his chin to his jaw, discovering a few scars. What was getting to you the most, was his breath. It fanned over your face, you hadn't even noticed how much you had leaned into him.

Cigarettes and strawberry candies. That made you smile. You never in a million years would of guessed he liked strawberry sweets, but you'd commit that to memory.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, and you found yourself lost in the cadence of his breath, the way it mingled with your own as you traced the contours of his face. The softness of his skin contrasted sharply with the violent persona he projected to the world, and it made your heart ache with a mixture of sympathy and confusion. Who was he?

“Why are you really here?” You whispered softly, your voice barely breaking the silence that enveloped you both.

His breath hitched slightly at your words, and for a heartbeat, you could feel the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. Before he could second guess it, his lips brushed yours.

It was so soft. Softer than you'd ever thought he'd be. You guessed it made sense, he had always been tough, firm, and harsh with everyone. Not with you. Not with you in a long time.

The kiss was unexpected, yet it felt like a long-awaited surge of electricity between you. You squeaked and that made him deepened it. Time seemed to pause, the chaos of everything outside your walls faded into the background as you melted into the moment. Red Hood’s lips were warm against yours, and you could feel the tension in his body, a mix of pain and uncertainty- a need that mirrored your own.

You pulled back slightly, your heart racing as you furrowed your brow, as if you were trying to study the face you couldn't see. “What was that?” You asked, your voice trembling just a little.

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing as if weighing his words. “A mistake?” He offered, but the way he said it was more self-deprecating then teasing. He was nervous. He was offering you an out.

Like hell you'd let him get away with that.

“Not the way I’d describe it.” You whispered, giving a gasp when he reached for your hips and you were reminded how big he was. His hands made you feel pathetically small, as he pulled you between his legs. You tightened your lips in a thin line, still not able to see a thing.

“Yeah?” He prodded and you nodded, taking a deep breath. Leaning closer. “What is it then?” He asked softly.

“I don't know.” You whispered. “I may need another kiss. Just to be sure, you know?”

He gave a laugh at that, one that shook your entire body. He took your lips again and his hands raised up to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. It was intoxicating, sending a wave of warmth through you that made you forget everything else- the dangers of Gotham, the blood on the hands he held you with, the weight of your responsibilities. In that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence.

You melted against him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You could feel the tension in his muscles, but also a gentleness beneath his bravado that took you by surprise. It was as if he was allowing himself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

He lifted your waist up until you were straddling him again, leaning back into the couch and pulling you with him. Not an inch of space between you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you panting slightly, you could see the hesitation in his eyes, even through the mask. “So… that wasn’t a mistake?” He asked, his voice low and hesitant.

You shook your head, your heart racing. “No, it wasn’t.”

He studied you for a moment, and you were trying to catch your breath. His hands slipped up from your waist to behind your head. Suddenly, you felt the blindfold fall.

You quickly reached up, managing to catch it under one of your eyes, closing both of them tight. He gave a weak laugh and cooed at you. “Open them. Please, Scrubs.”

You were shocked by his words, but obeyed them easily. Slowly you opened your eyes and looked at him. Taking in his features, a bit breathless.

“Hood?” You croaked out and he took his own uneven breath.

“Just.. call me Jason.”

Your heart raced at the sound of his real name, feeling like a revelation that changed everything. “Jason.” You whispered, testing the name on your tongue, savoring the intimacy of it. It felt like a key unlocking a door to a part of him that was hidden beneath the mask, a glimpse of the man behind the vigilante.

He seemed to relax at your acceptance, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, just Jason.” He said, his voice low and gravelly, yet there was a softness in it that made you feel safer then ever before.

“Jason Todd.”

You were the first one he ever confessed his true identity to.

#jason todd x you #jason x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x gender neutral reader

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