#he knows things he's seen things but he makes a cool front as a mask

[incandescentia]

How pure are you?

"Hm. No comment."

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Gala Buddies

Sam Manson glares out across the sea of the rich, snobby ‘elite.’ The people mingling with one another, all fake smiles and false niceties slipping from their lips easily. Every face a mask they put on to hide their true selves from the view of the public. They made Sam sick. She hated Galas, particularly the ones that took her away from Amity.

So of course, her parents had insisted that they simply must attend the gala in Gotham being held by none other than Bruce Wayne. They couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to see their old pal again.

Though Sam thought it was more like they wanted to suck up to the man for some business venture.

Or try to set her up with one of his sons again.

At least she got to see Gotham’s architecture. That was a positive, she concluded. She’d get some cool photos out of the trip to show Danny and Tucker back home. And maybe she’d get to see one of Gotham’s infamous vigilantes up close, she could try to learn anything from gauging the way they handled themselves that might be useful for Danny.

Sam readjusted her stance, the fabric of the obnoxiously pink dress making her legs itch uncomfortably. Her mother had gone through her luggage before they left when Sam hadn’t been looking and slipped in the monstrosity she was currently wearing, and removing the dresses she had selected for this torturous night. She was becoming moodier, and ‘crabbier’ as Tucker and Danny might have put it, by the second.

Maybe she could ‘accidentally’ trip into the chocolate fountain and ruin the dress. At least then she’d be getting some form of retribution for being forced into the frilly cocoon of humiliation. And it’s not like her parents would be able to scold her too much in front of all the other rich schmuks attending the party. As Sam was eyeing the chocolate fountain she noticed in her peripheral vision a person approaching her.

“Not in a party mood I take it?” Asked whoever had walked up to her.

Sam turned to examine the guy in front of her. He looked to be roughly her age, dark skin and a fancy suit that he looked uncomfortable in. A nervous energy permitted off of him, Sam guessed he wasn’t used to these sorts of events and was unashamedly out of his depth.

“Nah, not particularly,” Sam offered with a shrug, “you seem like you want to be here as much as I do.”

“Ah yeah,” the guy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, “I’m kinda only here because my brother didn’t want to be here alone and most of our other siblings were unavailable aside from my sister and I. But now he’s off talking to a friend of his that happened to be here, and my sister’s disappeared to who knows where.”

“That’s rough buddy,” Sam offers him a sympathetic smile.

The guy snorts before asking, “did you just quote Zuko?” And Sam grins. He holds out his hand to her, “Duke Thomas.”

Sam shakes his hand, “Sam Manson. Nice to meet you, Duke.”

Duke visibly appears to relax a little and the air of nervousness around his somewhat dissipates. He shifts of his feet for a moment before deciding on something. “So,” he starts, “if you weren’t stuck here what you normally be doing with your time?”

“Probably playing Doom with my two best friends back home,” Sam doesn’t mention anything about the ghosts. She hopes Danny and Tucker are alright in their own.

“Oh cool,” Duke smiles and Sam would be lying if she said she’d never seen someone so perfectly embody literal sunshine like he did. “I usually play videos games with my siblings. Mario Kart can get super competitive though.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that, intrigued. “How competitive?”

Duke grimaces slightly but looks amused at the same time, “well, tables have been flipped and expensive things broken. And everyone lost Alfred’s cookie privileges for a week.” He ground out that last part as though it physically pained him.

“Damn. They must be some good cookies if you’re that bummed about it.”

“Your have no idea. Alfred’s cookies are the best thing in the world. Fights have broken out over them.”

“Your family sound insane,” Sam chuckles and quickly adds, “in a good way.”

Duke grins at her, “yeah they’re kinda crazy sometimes, but they’re great. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“It must be nice, having siblings like that.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Nah,” Sam shakes her head, “only child.”

Before either of them know or Sam and Duke have been talking for nearly the entire gala. They remained glued to one another chatting even as one or both of them wanted to grab something to eat from the buffet table. Their interactions didn’t go unnoticed by Bruce and the others.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time she had such a normal and fun conversation with someone other than Danny or Tucker.

The end of the night came too soon, Sam felt. Things were winding down and people were bidding others farewell. She could see her parents speaking with Bruce Wayne, possibly thanking him for a wonderful night.

“Looks like I’ll probably be leaving soon,” Sam deflated a little.

Duke pondered something for a moment but seemed to reach a decision quickly. He pulled out his phone and offered it to Sam, “here, give me your number. We can keep talking later. If you want that is.”

And Sam couldn’t find any reason to say no, especially when Duke was smiling like that. “Sure,” he took the phone from his hand and added her number into his contacts. She pulled out her own phone and handed it to him to add his number in too.

“Well then,” Duke fighters with the end of his suit jacket.

“Sammikins!” Pamela Manson called out, “it’s time to go sweetie.”

“I’ll talk to you late?” Duke asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Sam smiled back, “talk to you later Duke.”

[hadersversion]

yet another drabble about dad!logan because i’m watching the wolverine and love sick over this man!

obviously logan is a girl dad…as we seen many many many times. i can definitely see him wanting a BIG family, once you got him started and he’s seen you pregnant with HIS child? oh, that motherfucker will BECOME a mother fucker. he’s like a rabbit with you, constantly on you.

the one thing i keep picturing is the two of you setting up the nursery together. he obviously did the heavy lifting and painting, which cause a fight between the two of you constantly. “im pregnant, lo. i can do somethings, ya know?” “i know, bub, why don’t ya set up the library while i finish putting the dresser together?” it’s all about compromise…in some way? but the two of you spend hours in there together, trying your hardest not to lose your mind over ikea’s confusing directions and the missing screw that fell somewhere in the room. logan is trying not to lose his cool in front of you, mumbling under his breathe. but you know once you leave the room, he shouts swears and knocks the boxes over. it makes you laugh as you grab waters in the kitchen. but once the nursery is done, you two are so exhausted you fall asleep on the floor using the baby’s new pillows. though it was sort of uncomfortable, you two felt content knowing that the room was done and your baby would be here soon.

but your first kid is a girl, his heart swells when he sees you holding this perfect bundle of joy that’s a perfect combination of the two of you. but you swear a tear leaves his eye when that beautiful baby girl opens her eyes and they look exactly like yours…logan never had a favorite color before until he looked into your eyes. and now he gets to see it even more through your daughter. you knew logan was protective over you, that was a given. especially since you were pregnant but once the second his daughter came into the world, you could’ve swore he took over the role of mama bear. he would hover over ANYONE that touched them, made sure they washed and sanitized their hands multiple times, he would even ask people if they were feeling sick before they even entered the room. you had to convince him people didn’t need to wear a mask and gloves in the hospital room. but once the team met baby wolvie, he felt at ease. a little prideful showing off your guys’ daughter, actually showing off his smile to show just how happy he is.

he’s definitely going 10 mph on the drive home, cursing under his breathe at people beeping and swerving around him, not wanting to yell in front of the baby. “logan, you can speed up a little bit. she’s not going to fly out of her car seat.” “stop being a backseat driver, would ya hun? i got this.” “whatever you say old man.”

the first night was obviously tough with the baby crying and making a fuss over everything. you cried, logan held you, you both were frustrated and upset. it was tough, you knew it wasn’t easy but holy hell this was shit. but you had that support system, the man you loved helping and comforting you. but once that sweet baby girl settled in your arms and finally slept longer for an hour, you both gave each other a tired smile as he kissed your head. “you’re glowing, mama. absolutely gorgeous.” “shut up, i know i look like shit.” “shut the hell up, why would you say that?” “because you look like shit, papa.” you both laugh and pass out on the couch, receiving the best sleep ever in each others arms. until the baby monitor goes off less than two hours later.

🎀🦢💓kaila🎀🦢💓

[elmushterri]

I filled an entire page of my sketchbook with Nori!

I love them sm!!! This has to be one of my favorite of your rewrites, I seriously did not think I could actually care abt PJ Masks past the age of 6 but now I'm obsessed 😭

On another note, just a random thing I'm curious about, before breaking off from GunnTech, did the main three basically live at the facility since they were initiated? I guess they do from what I’ve seen, but I was just wondering if they ever had to go to like. School or something, when they're not training. And if they ever got to see their family again (though I doubt both the kids and their family would want to lol)

And one more thing, totally important and necessary to ask, how does Nori acquire the kids? (..that doesnt sound right)

Like does he break in to the facility from time to time or did they just bring them with him when they left GunnTech or does he take them in when he finds them just out and about??

NORI… OUR FAVOURITE PROBLEM! The way you draw eyes scratches my brain /positive.

I think the idea is that everyone does live at GunnTech, they have rooms and go to school. GunnTech also has a prison somewhere (like, sci fi, clean, sterile white prison, a glass front-wall for cells instead of bars, and that’s where everyone gets put in Season 4. But, before that, when the main three villains (or at least, just Luna and Nori) escaped, it wasn’t totally locked down so they had to walk out suspiciously/tell the security guards reasons (you need to give reasons when leaving GunnTech so, “I’m hanging out with a friend” comes with ‘who is the friend + give us contact details’) and then probably remove a tracker (unsure as to whether the wristbands are the trackers or the trackers are put into their chest implants), and try to avoid getting caught for the rest of the time (until season 3-4 ofc). The main story probably begins with the three MCs trying to find them and bring them back. Romeo’s wanted cause he stole tech, though, he’s not a mutant.

Nori risks his life basically (not literally but he risks huge punishment) by constantly breaking into the facility to get out new kids. Kids who haven’t yet been mutated all have one room (several large rooms for many kids’ bunk beds basically, not literally one big room 😭) and he goes in and saves one or two each time. Some kids don’t *want* to come with him, thinking this is a cool superhero opportunity. He has an easier time helping kids who are scared and having second thoughts. He’s very gentle.

Also reminder that Nori had their finger prints burned off yipeeee. He’s not letting that happen to the others. (It doesn’t happen to every kid, but GunnTech probably has categories (like, heroes: animals, space, spies, drivers, healers?) and if you’re in the (name is a work in progress) Spies Category (stealth category?) like Nori, you get your finger prints burned off.

Daisy is canonically one of the only two Ninjalino names we know! I might make her into a small side character so that art isn’t 100% solid but eh!

Also he can’t really just “take them back to their parents”. If you’re a child at GunnTech, your parents either gave you away for money or you’re an orphan.

Nori’s usually a sassy ‘problem’ but they have their really serious and gentle moments.

[crunchyroaches27]

”You’re safe, pet.” | TF 141 x omega!reader

OKAYYY BEAR WITH ME! I just released a pt2 of the ghoap post I made but I could not help but write this one. It’s fluff and angst and the same time.

omega!reader is rescued from a Omega trafficking ring by TF141

BACKGROUND INFO

everyone has lil tails and ears (🥺) + Omegaverse AU + they/them pronouns used; Gender neutral + Alphas have pointed canines for marking

there are more characters, like Alejandro but he doesn’t play too much of a major role. He doesn’t deserve to be here

Price is the pack leader. He is an Alpha— the most dominant out of his other mates. His word is absolute law. He likes to regularly scent his pack, it makes him feel reassured that his pack is safe. Price is essentially their cigarette-smoking dad

Ghost is next in line in this chain of command, he is also an Alpha. He is more impulsive than the others and often has to have many restraints, leading to him often being aloof and angsty. Soap likes Ghost, but Ghost is too fucking slow

Gaz is third in line, also an Alpha like the ones before him. He is cool and collected, yet he also is a bit of a rebel— here and there he will challenge Price’s authority and be snarky

And finally, Soap. Poor Soap is at the bottom, being a Beta. Despite not being an Omega, he still carries out monotonous tasks. As the “peacemaker” of his pack, he ensures that all is well between them. That doesn’t mean he isn’t a jackass sometimes. His body scent is fainter, but his scenting abilities are better than the rest bc he is a Beta

In this cruel world made up of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, there is bound to be danger lurking in every dark alley, every shady nightclub. Over the course of three days, you had seen and felt things you thought would never end. You were used and passed along like a joint. One particular Alpha paid a good fortune for you, and you found yourself dressed in skimpy clothes and drugged with aphrodisiacs. Your pheromones leaked like a pipe. There’s no hope. Why even bother? you thought angstily as you were transported to a new location.

You’d heard of the tragic trafficking of Omegas, but you didn’t expect to experience it firsthand. Omegas have to know every tactic to defend themselves. Your ears drooped in disgust and a sort of disbelief as your body began to enter some sort of stupor; the drugs meant to make you extremely docile and languid were starting to kick in. The sudden sensation of a sharp turn and the screech of wheels snapped you out from your haze. Instead of hearing the usual excited chatter, you heard gunshots. You were too lethargic to even move, so you passed out in your seat. When you awoke, four men surrounded you; three Alphas and one Beta.

You found yourself on a small cot. Three Alphas and one Beta were sniffing your pheromones to deduce your mental, physical, and emotional state. “Aye, Omega’s ‘woken up,” the Beta with the warhawk mumbled. The bearded Alpha hummed. “Hmm. Let’s start with introductions. What’s your name, Omega?” Another Alpha, clad in a skull mask, trilled, seemingly pleased at your arousal (arousal as in the waking up sense!!). “You’re safe, pet. We don’t bite, at least, not unless you want us to.” He jibed with a British lilt once he sensed your fear. His dark-skinned pack mate snorted, rolling his eyes. You could smell he was an Alpha, too.

All of their ears were perked high in expectation, their eyes watching your every move, sniffing every pheromone released into the already stuffy air. “Y/N,” your response made them nod in acknowledgment. “Mm, ‘Kay. We already knew that. Jus’ wanted to see if we got the right person.” The bearded Alpha sighed before continuing. “Well, I’m Price. This ‘ere is Ghost, Gaz on my right, and Soap’s the one in front of ya.” Soap promptly bent down and twinkled at you, his tail wagging. You didn’t even have to ask for their ranks, you could smell it in the bodily fragrances they released— that applied for them too. You could tell that Price, Ghost and Gaz were all Alphas, while Soap was a Beta.

You wondered how they weren't dying to breed you, your pheromones were uncapped and flowing out into the air freely. They must be taking some kick ass suppressors, you surmised. You were, for the lack of better words, glad they weren’t groping your body ravenously. Yet, despite their composed demeanors, glints of wolfish desires were expressed through their eyes. Their tails were rigid and raised.

“We saved you from that trafficking ring— shouldn’t you be more grateful?” Ghost earned himself an elbow pinch from Price. Ghost lowered his ears and grumbled as Gaz snickered. “Omega’s pumped full of drugs. Damnit, they’re barely alive,” Price grunted, his brows knitted— not in regards to Ghost— but at your deplorable condition. “Don’t expect much yet.”

“Soap, call in exfil, we need to go back to base. We need to get this Omega treated.” At Price’s order, Soap’s ears flicked and he soon got to work. “Don’t worry, Omega,” Price murmured, his thick fingers tracing circles on your sunken-in cheeks. He practically melted at the sigh you soughed. “You’re safe, pet.”

One half of you loved his touch, the Omega side that constantly craved the touch and comfort of an Alpha; the other half wanted to flinch back and snarl at it. You’d been touched, and not in a nice way— you didn’t want to bear that again. Yet because Price’s touch was refreshingly compassionate, the former side won.

At the hospital

When you arrived at the base, you were stirred awake by a splitting headache, an after effect of the narcotics. Your vision was bleary but you could tell that you were in an infirmary— and that you were not alone, either.

Ghost and Soap were seated on the chairs adjacent to your little mattress. Their tails were curled curled together as they waited for your awakening. When you finally announced it by clearing your throat, both of their ears shot up in attention and whipped their heads around to face you.

Soap was the first one to detach from the tail-curling and walk towards you, a gentle concern painted onto his face. “Ye feelin’ any better, Omega?” He chuckled at your reply, a tired no. His hands neared to replace the tape covering your scent glands, but then he stopped, seemingly remembering his manners. “Mind if I change ‘em? Not gonna try anything slick,” Soap asked, his icy blue eyes warming themselves for you.

“No,” you croaked. Slowly, he started to strip the tape off, clean your gland, and patch a new piece of tape on. Obviously, your scent had been carried in the air, exciting both Soap and Ghost. You knew Soap had a better nose than the rest. Soap’s pupils had dilated, making you a bit uneasy, “not gonna try anythin’,” he assured you again, smelling your distrust.

“Where’s Price and Gaz?” You questioned, hoping you remembered the name of the two Alphas right. “They’re in Mexico. With a friend; they should be back soon.” Ghost replied, rising to his feet to join Soap. They both assessed you with such focused attention— especially Ghost— making you feel like a piece of meat again. Your ears pinned themselves against your head.

Ghost’s inhaled deeply through his mouth, his breath trembling. He leaned closer towards you, his head tilting to try and whiff up any of your heady pheromones that still lingered in the air from the tape-replacing. Ghost's ears were angled towards you.

Ghost realized what he was doing and promptly gave you your space, as if to prove his salaciousness was kept under control. Or maybe he did it as an apology. "Sorry, just, you smell nice."

Soap hummed in what could be expressed as skepticism.

"Well, I think we should leave 'em to their own devices." Soap said, giving your hand a quick squeeze. He ordered for a glass of water to be delivered to your room before he left with his packmate.

You were left alone with your thoughts. You realized how much of a windfall this was. Out of hundreds of millions, you were saved. You had quite possibly the aid of God by your side. What an occurrence.

Sorry. Didn't really know how to end it, but pt2 will come out fs 😚

[tacticaldiary]

can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/09/2023)

[imshymorph]

So, new story! Death!Ghost x Life!reader. It’s a longer one, there’s much more to their story if everyone likes it an wants to see more. Update: Here's Part 2 and Part 3

You’re sitting by the edge of the water, fingers lightly dipping in the creek and moving around. The ripples that form from your movement making tadpoles, small fish and spurts of water plants come to be.

It felt natural, with the longer hours of sunlight and the rising of temperature, to start using your abilities once again. To take your side of the mantle once Death had taken the grunt of the work in the colder months. Spring was only nearing closer, and that meant you’d have to start adding spirits back to the Earth, it was your time to keep balance.

- - - - -

You looked up from the stream, from the trail of tiny creatures that gladly followed the movement of their creator’s hand, when you felt the breeze cool a little. It could only mean one thing.

Your lips pull up into a soft smile, your lively eyes crinkling lightly at the edges as you see him stand on the other side of the creek. His own eyes shift under the skull mask, and you know he’s smiling back even if his eyes are covered by the shadow of the bone. It doesn’t surprise you that within barely a few seconds he’s instead sitting beside you, the wavy reflection of the water in front of you confirming his presence.

It always felt like that, peaceful and comfortable in each other's presence. You had gotten used to Death long ago, or Ghost, a name that had come from a joke once made aeons ago. You couldn’t help yourself, lightly teasing him when you had seen how pale his skin really was the one time he had taken a glove off. And somehow, it just stuck.

The both of you stay in silence for a bit, admiring the landscape around you, how slowly your power took over the terrain to give him some rest. You worked in harmony, the switching in seasons never feeling like a competition or betrayal, but like an acknowledgment of the other’s importance and significance.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He’s the first one to talk, giving you a short look before his attention was pulled to the birds that filled the sky. Most of them nesting, feeling in some way that your power would welcome them soon before giving them tiny ones to look after.

“Good, busy with the new blooms that come with spring.” you reply with a small smile, your hands running through the grass below, making new blades appear, greener and more luscious. “You must’ve been busy.” You tack on, your eyes following the trail of growing plants until your eyes find him.

“Hmm, you have some work ahead of you.” he concedes, tilting his head back, feeling what sunrays managed to filter through the holes in his mask. He let out a soft sigh before giving a light nod, “Been taking care of my duties, but it’s been good.”

“You’ll be able to rest a bit more. Now that the warm months are coming in.” You say, that smile still on your face. It definitely was what fascinated him most about you. He knew the amount of power you beheld, all the things you could make appear out of thin air. Yet there was something about that smile, that soft and kind smile that you always seemed to gift him with.

Or at least that’s how he wanted to see it, like your sweet smile was specially directed at him, for him. If there was one thing that he pictured on his mind whenever he thought about you, it was the upturn of your lips. Not even your mightier creations could ever compare to the one of your smile.

“I suppose I did, yes.” He says with a light nod, his tone low and gravely but really calm as well, like deep calm water. His head then turned, your view of his mask turning from the profile to a full fronted one. His cold and cloudy almost-grey eyes finding yours. “Are you enjoying your creations?”

The corner of your eyes crinkled a bit more as they landed on his, your smile brightening, reminding him of the golden hues the sun gets when it starts to set behind the horizon. Your hand moves, fingers trailing through the dirt beneath you. Tips passing just enough power to the small buds that were starting to grow to make them fully bloom. “Always do.” Your tone sounding sweet and golden like honey.

A smile took over his lips and he mentally thanked the skull covering them, although the amused glint your eyes got told him that you had definitely noticed. “I’m glad to hear it.” He says, tone as cordial and gravely as ever, hiding the small embarrassment of the knowing tilt your smile gets.

The both of you seeped into comfortable silence once again, you looking at the vast forest around you, the light hints of it filling with your creations again after a cold winter. Meanwhile he busied himself as he looked over his scythe, his gloved finger lightly trailing the sharp edge.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” He murmurs, almost making you wonder if he had actually spoken as his eyes stay trained on his tool.

“You know I never do.” You reassure, your eyes only staying on him for a moment before going back to the light ripples on the water source in front of you.

“I was wondering…” he starts before cutting himself off. You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him as he leaves the scythe back on the floor beside him. Nor as he tilts his head back to look up at the sky once more. And he doesn’t think he could ever find the words to express how thankful he is about it.

He clears his throat, daring to give it another chance. His head tilts a bit to the side, only enough to see you from the corner of his eye. “I was just wondering, we’ve worked together for so long…” he fully turns his head now, his eyes meeting yours. “And yet… you’ve never asked to see me? See what’s under my mask.”

For someone who was the personification of Death, Ghost couldn’t understand how his heart could beat so fast. How it felt like it could leap out of his chest at any moment, how fast his blood pumped through him.

And it feels like it instantly stops when he sees you lightly shaking your head, “It’s not my place to ask, I'm sure it’s there for a reason.” your soft voice explains. And he lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding, his heartbeat slowing a bit but the tension still in his body as he gives a light nod back.

The both of you go back to the silence, but this time your eyes stay on each other's. His hand slowly reaches up, his fingers feeling the edge of the worn out bone. His voice is barely perceptible when he talks next, “What if I wanted to show you?”

[slasher-fxcker]

Fighting with Michael

Part 2: Making up

A/N: Ugh I am loving all the Michael fics at the moment! Here's part two you guys! enjoy! also feel free to send any requests in.

Warnings: Slight mention of blood but I think thats it

GIF by thepumpkin-queenn

You didn’t know where you were going as you wandered down the street, wiping at the tears that streamed down your face. You were glad it was late and there was no one around to see you in this state. Tonight, had made you question everything, what were you doing with Michael? You had known for a while that you were in love with him, but would you ever really know how he felt? Could Michael even love you back. You felt like a fool, you had heard all the stories about him, about what he’s done.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to think of him like everyone else did, to you he wasn’t a monster. He was your Michael.

Sitting down on a bench you pulled your jacket closer to you as the cool wind blew down the street. You thought about going home, you didn’t know whether Michael would get angry and come looking for you. Deep down you knew that you weren’t talking about the house when you talked about your home, the realisation like a stab in the heart. Michael was your home, you wanted to be wherever he was.

The tears that you didn’t notice had stopped had once against started flowing down your cheeks at the thought. How could you leave Michael when you loved him so much? He found you at a time in your life where nothing seemed to be going right, he seemed like a blessing in disguise, but now you had a choice to make. You decided it was time to head back to the house and face him. Whatever the outcome was you needed something from him, something to show that you were a permanent thing in his life and not just passing entertainment.

You paused in front of the building, getting the courage to walk through the door. You didn’t know how Michael would react to your little outburst, but you knew it wouldn’t be good. The slow creak of the door seemed to rival the sound of your beating heart as you stepped inside. You immediately noticed the knife still sticking out of the wall where you had been stood only an hour or so ago. But soon enough your eyes glanced around seeing the broken furniture littered all around the room. A table split in half, the vase that was on it smashed on the ground, some sort of splintered wood put through one of the walls.

The creak that you heard above was the only thing that broke you out of your shock. You hesitantly made your way up the stair expecting the same mess that you had just seen, but upstairs seemed surprisingly calm, undisturbed. You made your way to the bedroom to find Michael sitting on the edge of your shared bed.

“Michael,” your voice comes out in a whisper, much shakier than you were hoping. He slowly raises his head and you can make out his eyes in the dim room, there’s a sadness there you don’t think you’ve ever seen from the man. You both seemed to watch each other for an eternity, not sure if you were waiting for him to make some sort of outburst or if you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to whatever response he would have to your next words. “I love you,” Michael didn’t miss the way your lip slightly quivered as you let out this new revelation.

Michael lowered his head and you froze as the fears you had about him not loving you immediately returned at this action. Before you could panic too much you noticed Michael raise his hand up to his mask and slowly pull it off his head, your heart could’ve beat out of your chest at the anticipation of finally seeing him. You didn’t know which one of you were more surprised by this action, but still you knew better than to react too quickly and possible spook him out of the decision.

Michael kept his head lowered and neither one of you moved for a moment. Soon enough you slowly stepped towards him, the closer you got the more you noticed his white knuckled grip on the mask still clenched tightly in his hand. You lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him taking his hand in your own and getting him to release the mask. You put it down beside you and gently cupped his cheek, every movement was slow and gentle as you tested the waters of what Michael would allow.

You tilted his face to look at you as your voice came out just above a whisper, “I love you Michael.” His eyes darted away and you noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. You couldn’t help but find this situation unbelievable, feared by so many, thought of as a monster, but for you he could be vulnerable, for you he would risk showing some humanity. You brought his attention back to your face as you spoke again, “I love all of you Michael, okay?”

Your thumb stroked his cheek and you watched his eyes close as the tension seemed to slowly leave him and his shoulders dropped from the tense position they held. You knew you shouldn’t push your luck with moments like this, being so rare. But seeing Michael like this, so exposed and vulnerable just for you did things to your heart you had never felt before. You leaned in slowly, giving Michael a chance to pull away if he wished before you gently brushed your lips against his.

He didn’t kiss back but he didn’t push you away, taking this as a sign to continue, you kissed him again. This time with a bit more pressure, it took Michael a minute but he began to reciprocate the kiss. It was a bit too rough, as you expected it to be, and a bit clumsy but the passion that it held made up for any lack of experience. You felt his hand hesitantly grab your waist which surprised you, but you did your best not to make any sudden movements that could spook him.

You placed your hands on his arms and slowly ran them up to his shoulders, he flinched away causing you to look at him questioningly, had you taken it too far? You followed his gaze to where your hand had brushed over a rather large cut on his shoulder. It wasn’t deep but you noticed the blood and dirt all stuck together across the area. You placed another soft kiss to his lips before standing up and grabbing his hand. “Come on, lets get you in the shower.” And for once Michael didn’t argue as he followed you happily to the soon to be very steamy bathroom.

[webslingingslasher]

spiderman saves cherry one time (but not even from smth serious) and suddenly she falls in love and tells peter ab her new obsession w him that she didn’t understand before and he’s literally cheering on the inside at how she’s closer to falling for him without realising

happy sunday!

--

'you know how you're always trying to get me to like spider-man?'

'yes.'

you hold the back of your hand to your forehead and dramatically swoon, your back lands on peter's bed. 'i've been swayed.' peter's got a strong feeling it's because you ran into spider-man today but he has to pretend he doesn't know that yet.

'did you have another dirty dream?' you gasp at the question, peter rushes out he was just joking. 'you're not funny, fyi.'

'you're cute when you have a crush.' you kick your feet on his bed, peter's being extra annoying. 'i don't have a crush! i was going to tell you i saw him today but nope, nevermind.'

peter knows how to work around your attitude. it's a special trick he's learned. 'you met spider-man? that's so cool, where were you?' you grin at him and start speed talking, peter loves being right.

'the bookstore! well, outside the bookstore. when i was leaving i was reading the back of a book and i walked right into him! i dropped my book and he caught me and when i looked up, bam, spider-man. he grabbed my book for me and asked if i was okay, like i didn't run into him!'

you replay the moment, you swoon again. 'ugh, petey, he was tall and so broad! it felt like i ran into a wall, but he was also like... i could've given him a hug and he wouldn't mind.' you lift your head up to look at peter, it's a similar feeling with him.

'i think he's kind of like you. cause you're mr. strong guy but you're the perfect amount of soft for cuddles. basically, i think i'm gonna marry spider-man.'

peter has to act like he's jealous, he doesn't mind. you like spider-man now and nothing else beyond that matters. if anything, this is a bonus for him.

'please tell me you didn't get his number, i can't compete with a superhero.'

'no!' you think about it for a second, you're not spider-man's number one fan but you see clips and articles online all the time. 'i don't think spider-man dates, i've never seen him out on one. but also, i don't think he can eat dinner with his mask on... wait, do you think he dates outside the mask and has to pretend he isn't spider-man?'

peter blinks two times, 'i don't know, i've never thought about it.' he's very flat with his reply. you huff, he's no fun. 'if you were spider-man, do you think i would know?'

'um, well, if you don't know i'm spider-man, then no, i don't think you would know.' you nod, he makes a good point. 'fair.' you keep thinking about it, you'd be thrown for such a loop if that happened to you.

'that's crazy. imagine dating someone for months or years and he tells you he's spider-man, i think i'd freak out. i wonder if anyone in his life knows who he is. wait, do you think there are people just walking around the city that know spider-man's true identity?'

peter didn't prepare himself for hypotheticals, he's wondering why he wanted you to like his alter ego so much. when you didn't care, you didn't ask questions.

'what do you think he looks like? i think he looks like you, he's probably cute. do you think he's our age? damn it, i should've asked him all of this when i had him in front of me.' you sigh again, searching for your phone you youtube his name and start watching compilations of fights caught on film.

'god, he could throw me around like nothing.'

peter grumbles out the corner of his mouth, 'i could throw you around like nothing.' you happily hum, the idea is enticing. 'could you wear the suit while you do it? wait, you better not, i wouldn't be able to stop myself from... things.'

you stare at the screen, you start to have flashes of imagery and you bite down on your bottom lip. 'oh god, i'm feeling a hyperfixation coming on.' spider-man is hot, his strength, his power, how fucking kind he is.

you sit up to look at peter, 'wanna makeout?' peter wants to know how he went from mentally begging you to like spider-man, to actually being jealous of how you fawn over him. 'i'm not a placeholder for your fantasies.'

'i never said you were. come kiss me... and maybe get between my thighs and make me feel good.' spider-man is attractive because of the mystery, peter's hot because, fuck, just look at him. peter's giving you a look that's testing, he's baiting you for more information. 'don't make me beg, it's not cute.'

'no, you just wanna kiss me because you're hot and bothered over spider-man.' it shouldn't bother him, but it does. 'i don't want spider-man's fingers in me, i want yours.'

'only because you can't have him.' you groan, he's dragging it out more than he needs. 'maybe i do, maybe he's not scared to touch me.' peter's quiet, you immediately fill in the silence. 'wait, that's me being bratty. i'm not trying to force you into sex.'

peter smiles, 'you can't force the willing, cherry.'

you pat the empty space between your legs, 'then will you come fill me up? please?' peter doesn't need to be asked a third time, you're instantly settled the second he's caging you under him and pressing his lips on yours.

peter's fingers drag up your thigh, you sigh into his mouth. 'mhm, spider-man.' peter's done, he pulls off you and you're whining and trying to keep him over you. 'no! i was kidding, i swear i was just kidding!'

'too late. you're cut off, think about your actions.'

'fine. but you know who would've found that funny?' peter raises his eyebrows, he knows what's about to come. 'say his name one more time and see what i do.'

'will you punish me and show me who i really belong to?'

and... oh, that has peter bricked up.

why didn't he think about that? he would have proved how much better he is, he could've kissed you breathless until you're babbling and only whimpering his name. and the way you're looking at him tells him this was more of a ruse than anything.

peter's never dated a brat, he's still learning your quirks. you blink pretty, you have a way of acting like an innocent virgin after saying something dirty, it's an unspoken card you always pull out when convenient.

peter grips the skin above your knees and pulls you into him, your hips slam into his. 'think you can be quiet this time?' you shake your head, peter grins at your messy hair. 'no?'

peter leans down, his lips brush yours. he whispers against your mouth, a hint of a kiss. 'didn't think so.'

and peter makes you say his name so many times, spider-man's is a distant memory. 

[luveline]

Do you think maybe you could do a quick Miguel fic of him being supportive/comforting to spider-girl cause she’s been working too hard and stretched herself a bit thin trying to make everyone happy? I’ve read all your Miguel stories and it feels like it fits LMAO (I love love love all of your stuff btw you’re one of my fav Miguel writers)

thank you for your request! grumpy miguel comforts a tired spidergirl. 1.2k

Miguel doesn't bother looking down at the thwipping sound of a web connecting with the platform. You're the only person he knows well enough, who knows him well enough, to come up without asking. 

"Woah," you say, pulling yourself onto the platform with altogether too much force, taking a running stumble at him as you try to keep your balance. 

Miguel puts a hand out to catch you without looking away from his screen. "Careful." 

"Thanks, handsome," you croon, though it's missing its signature pep. 

Miguel does look up, then, dragging his attention from the monitors to rake it over you. You have your mask on, which is odd but not unheard of, and your posture is tight. The majority of your weight is being held on one foot, and when he follows your leg upward, your thigh is curving outward. How weird. 

You pull away from him gently and shimmy over to the desk you've stolen, a mountain of your things that topples intermittently lying in wait for your return. As soon as you approach, the flying droid you take on missions whizzes into the air and dances around your shoulders, not unlike the way you move yourself. 

"Come over here," Miguel says. 

"No," you say primly, "you're in a strange mood." 

"You've been here for two seconds," he says. If he were in a strange mood, it's not as if you could've already gathered that from so little observation. 

"Yeah, and you're not usually eager to have me near," you say. True and untrue. 

"Come here." 

You sigh and approach him as though he's dragging you, reeling you in, every footstep heavier than the last. Miguel grabs you by the shoulders when you're close and stations you neatly in front of him, thumb quick to find the seam of your mask and slide beneath. 

You squint at the sudden light of the room, unmasked, though your expression quickly relaxes. "You want to kiss me," you guess, saccharine sweet as you tilt your chin upwards. 

Miguel dodges your feigned kiss. You aren't wrong about what he wants, but you haven't identified his main priority, which is to find out why you'd been wearing the mask in the first place, and why you're walking like your converse shoes are full of cement. 

You're very, very tired, evidently. You look exhausted. Miguel has seen you run down before, you stretch yourself thin often, and you do it without complaint, but this is a new level. His heart actually hurts in his chest, he's that gutted for you. 

Miguel glares at you. "What, you're not sleeping?" 

"Oh, don't, handsome," you say, moving as though you're going to walk away. 

Miguel takes your face into his hand and keeps you where you are. "Hey, answer me." 

"Of course I'm sleeping," you say. You won't meet his eyes. Liar. "You're a tyrant." 

Be that as it may, Miguel wants what's best for you. He draws a line under your dark circles with the pad of his thumb, feeling the puffy skin regretfully. Carefully, so carefully, he traces the line of a tear unshed from the corner of your eye to the corner of your lips. 

"Not enough, then." 

You look at him funny. Your bottom lip twitches, and every ounce of his cool dissipates as you frown and lean forward, pressing your face to his chest. 

"I'm busy," you confess in a murmur, your arms hanging loosely around his waist.

Miguel takes it for I'm really tired. He hesitates, looking down at you, your smaller stature, feeling the weight your letting him hold up for the trust it is. You're tired and you're telling him, even though he had to prod. 

Miguel hugs your shoulders. You sag like a popped balloon. 

"I'm busy," he says, though he amends quickly at the sudden rigidness of your back under his hands, "I'm busy, and I still sleep. You have to sleep." 

"If I want to… to make time for me, I keep staying up late, you know? I've been training, and helping Hobie Brown take down the establishment–"

"What?" 

"–and I was trying to make that cover for your wristband but I keep getting it wrong." You stop suddenly. Your hand screws tighter into his front, fingers digging ineffectual against nanotechnology. "I'm useless, even when I try." 

"Why would you say that?" he asks quietly.

"I can't get things right. I want to do everything. I want to get better at fighting so I can come with you. I want to be a good friend to Hobie. I want to make you things 'cos you deserve them. I'm sorry. I just make everything worse."

Miguel let's you wallow for a moment. He's no stranger to self-loathing. It can feel good to simmer. He rubs your back inchingly slowly, not sure why he's letting himself, not sure why he's holding back. 

Miguel takes your shoulders into his hands and eases you back, ducking his head to meet your eyes. Forcing you to listen. "You don't make anything worse. You're tired, and being tired makes everything feel worse than it is. You're not the problem." 

Your cheek lists down to your shoulder. "You're being nice." 

"You don't have as much effect on things as you think," he says, ducking his head again to look you straight in the eye. "I mean that in a good way. You aren't hurting anyone. You can say no." 

"I don't want to say no." 

"You have to." He's tipping into tenderness now, plummeting fast and hard. "You need to look after yourself if you want to look after other people," he says. He wonders if what he's about to say is fair, but he's so unhappy with your obvious rampant fatigue that he decides he can live with the bad karma. "What if I need you to come with me to the next anomaly recovery? And you're too tired to stand? You'd have me go by myself?" 

"No." 

"Exactly, so do the right thing and sleep." Miguel says it simply, pulling away, pulling back, physically and emotionally. He likes you more than he should but being vulnerable is difficult. He hides behind a facade —your problem is ridiculous, and he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. 

You see straight through him. Hear the unsaid please. "I will. I'll go to bed… Thank you, Miguel." 

The facade slips as Miguel gives your bicep a warm squeeze. He turns away from you without another word, redirecting his attention on the screens, your presence like a thrumming he has to fight to ignore. 

"Bye, handsome," you say, stepping sideways off of the platform. He relaxes at the sound of a web sticking and your footsteps as they lead away. 

He rubs the bridge of his nose. 

"Inspiring," Lyla says, appearing from nowhere, a delighted, smarmy smile flickering across her face.

"That is getting so old," Miguel complains.

"Deprogram me, then." 

"Would if I could." 

"Ah, but then who would witness your frankly embarrassing attempts at comfort?" 

Miguel tries to catch her like a moth. She scoffs and leaps between his fingers. 

[small-sinclair]

Check List

Whumptober 17: Nowhere else to go

A RZ!Michael Myers x fem sleeping!reader Tw: stocker maybe?, gore mentioned, blood mentioned, he might be obsessed with reader if you squint

Nowhere else to go

Michael knew who you were because he’s not only seen you around the neighborhood, but he’s seen you without you spotting him. He wasn’t stocking you, for say, but he wasn’t planning to kill you, either. You were just part of his daily check list for some reason, and he had to see you at the same time every day. If he doesn’t, there’s a new body, a new murder story for the morning news the next day. Michael saw more as a little wondering soul than a person. If anything, he saw you more as a thing to watch for than go after. You’re just as harmless as a bunny.

Which led him to sneaking into your house while the cops were searching for him, trying to stop the freak with the knife, the Boggy Man as some call him. He knew where your spare key was hidden, he knew which door to use, and he knew which path to take to get to your room. His footsteps went unheard as he inched closer to your sleeping form and tangled sheets. As far as he knew, he didn’t know what he was going to do to you. He stood at the edge of your bed, watching you as you slept, thinking to himself all the terrible, bloody things he could do to your body. He could rip you apart limp from limp, break every bone in alphabetical order, kill you swiftly, silently, or he could wrap his hands around that delegate throat of yours and just squeeze. Michael thought over and over on what he wanted to do, but each one made his stomach churn and turn away from you every time he thought of your body in a mangled mess.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, how hard he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to harm you.

Must be from that cheek list he made.

His grip on the knife loosens and hits the wooden floor, causing you to stir but go back to sleep. His heavy blue and green eyes looked over your skin, perfect as a picture in the moonlight, and marveled at your peaceful from. What were you dreaming about? What beautiful dream were you living in that head of yours? Let him be part of it just for a moment. Spare a thought, a vision of him, then set him free from the cobwebs and chains that held him back for so long. If he couldn’t be part of it, not part of the little thoughts and threads, then stay at peace and still, for he doesn’t want the darkness that follows to engulfed your running water thoughts and gentle breathing.

Michael wished he didn’t have to be here, but the police were closing in like a pack of hunting dogs to a fox. He had nowhere else to go, but he felt thankful in a way. He’s looking over a sleeping angel with the moon tangled in their hair, making a halo of hope and bliss. Apart from breaking into your home in the dead of night with dry blood on his boots, he felt blessed to be gifted with this vision of you.

Gently, he lifts his mask, taking it off, and placing it quietly on your dresser. He two to steps, just striding without effort, and stood over you. He basked in the moonlight view of you, wishing he could take a photo and have it in his pocket. Michael pulls his hair back until it was resting on his shoulder and knelt on the floor in front of your sleeping face. The monster felt human for once. The shadow over this town faded until there was a man just looking back in a reflective surface. Slowly, he inched closer to you, daring his courage and thoughts, until he felt your breath, cool and smooth, on his lip. Michael shuddered at the thought of your lips on his, marveling at the thought of you waking up and embracing him as a man, not as a monster, as a killer, and as a lunitic that escaped. Thoughts of being normal carved into his bones until he felt them turn into dust, and he felt more and more at home as he looked at you.

You’re on his list, his check list.

He had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to call home, yet he found it here with you sleeping in an oversized shirt and gym shorts. He found it sleeping soundlessly under tangled blankets and a small mountain of stuffed animals. The peacefulness that flows from your heartbeat and blood flow...he wanted to be a part of your more until thoughts of him being in you, physical and mentally. He wanted to be a part of your story and live a thousand tales with you. He was just there, right there! So close to your sleeping arms and blissful lips that he began to hunger for—

Not like this. No... he can’t do this like this.

Michael withdrew from your side and stood up, blocking the moonlight from making your skin glow. He licked his lips as his eyes marveled and memorized each curve and mark on your body. He turns, picks up his knife, and takes his mask. He gives you one last glance, one last moment for his eyes to gaze over you like this and leaves your room for the living room. He sits down on the rocking chair and leaned back into the cushion until he felt his eyes drift off. Sleep called for him, for the man who never slept before a day in his life. As his eyes closed, his last thoughts were spared for you and your moonlight haloed hair.

[2-dsimp]

Hi hi hiii! Omg i binge read about ur yandere ovs and now yhey're running around in my mind like little hamsters.

What if darling somehow managed to see/hear Moros torture someone? And as a result, they're quite scared of Moros now, thinking he could snap on them at any moment? Thatd be so cool :o

Ur such a good writer!!! Keep writing, youre terrific! Have a good day n night :D

Cw: MDNI, NSFW, Heavy Angst, heavy Gore, yandere tendencies.

Yandere Torturer! Who forgot to lock the fun basement room, that you’ve always been curious of seeing. Whenever you come by to hangout at the agency he lived at with his other colleagues of Hitmen.

“N-no! Y-you can’t go in there, the basement is not really f-fun at all. It’s scary and d-dark… Not a p-place meant for you to see little one.”

Yandere Torturer! Would always plead for you to heed his warnings. He really hated keeping things from you but, it was for your own good. The burden he had to carry was his and his alone. And he planned on keeping it that way until he couldn’t.

Didn’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?

The stench of metallic blood hit your nostrils like a freight train. The jars of decapitated limbs, appendages, organs, littered the worn down shelves. You then choked a gasp seeing the state of your manager.

Hollow empty eye sockets, that dribbled tears of blood. He was still alive mouth breathing like a fish out of water. Though missing a whole bottom and top row of his teeth.

You remembered, briefly having an argument with him. About how he was always giving you creepy looks. Checking you out like you were a piece of meat and catcalling you.

But you never imagined that on his weeks notice about taking days off. Would you ever imagine seeing him strapped to a chair in tight chains like a dog. Teetering on the brink of death but unable to get true relief.

All because of the man who you thought to be the gentlest giant. One who’d never hurt a fly since he was oh so cutely timid and jittery. The same man in front of you donning a bloodied bunny mask and wearing his signature latex gloves to cover his huge hands.

“Moros… What the hell is this? Why is my manager here? Just what have you been doing in here?!”

“S-Sunshine?!”

Yandere Torturer! Who was so startled from your outburst that his butcher knife sliced through your coworker’s tongue. Making the latter thrash and choke on his own blood. The sight repulsed you and made you feel like hurling as you stumbled back away from the entrance.

“Oh n-no, you’re not s-supposed to be h-here. It’s d-dangerous I said. You’ll get sick! P-please wear t-this mask it’ll help you—“

Yandere Torturer! Who panicked over your wellbeing as He jerked off one of his bloodied gloves to search for a spare mask. To cover you from the carnage, but the damage was already done.

“No, no, no, stay away from me! Y-you murderer!”

You practically slapped away his trembling hand feeling all sorts of things ranging from loss, disgust, and denial. You couldn’t believe what you had seen, and wanted to escape this nightmare you believed that you had to be trapped in.

Yandere Torturer! Who let out a terrified noise at feeling you reject him for the first time and from seeing you suddenly flee from his sight. Almost as if you were afraid of him…

Yandere Torturer! Who became sick to his stomach and it was the due to the gore. Were you truly afraid of him? All he wanted was to be your caregiver, shield you from harm, take care of you the best way he could. So when he saw you getting harassed by your manager, he had to do it.

He wasn’t in the wrong! You were just shocked. You’d come back to him right? Right? If not then… He’d crumble.

“Sunshine… please don’t be afraid of me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

Yandere Torturer! Who slumped down into a ball like a lifeless husk in the corner. His fat tear drops falling from the holes in the rabbit mask.

——————-/——-

A/n: Here is the angst you’ve been wanting dear anon, I hope you’re satisfied _(:3 」∠)_

[daydreamingyuta]

NCT as Husbands Series: Johnny Suh

summary: fluff, drabble, husband!johnny wc: 830 nct as husbands masterlist

Johnny is such husband material!! He's genuinely soo thoughtful and sweet! like I always think about jcc and how he picks things to do based on who's in the video with him and what they would enjoy doing. which is why I would say one of his love languages is for sure acts of service! like he would always do the little things for you, that you may not even notice.

Also really big on communication. Anytime there's conflict in your marriage he's sitting you down and talking through it until you find a good solution. which I think is also a way that he shows he loves you because usually he can just brush things off, but with you he makes sure you're both on the same page and fully understand everything from each other's perspectives.

Johnny as a husband is also just so much fun! like there's not a day that goes by where he doesn't flirt with you like crazy. You could be twenty-five years into your marriage and he's still making you blush. He also loves to travel with you. He's always loved traveling and having someone who he can experience the world with is soo precious to him!!

I also feel like he would be in a constant battle with himself on how to impress you more and more by his good husband skills. Like he became a husband and all of a sudden it’s his life mission to make you the single happiest wife on earth. Especially with making sure you're taken care of!

Johnny enters the front door, too tired to even properly lift his feet causing them to drag. The combination of not getting enough sleep and dancing for hours straight was taking a toil on him. He knows immediately that you're not back from work yet, the atmosphere in an empty home just feels different somehow. He figures that you must be working late again. If he wasn't married, he would probably just go to bed right now without properly taking care of his needs, but he is married and he knows that you'll be hungry when you get home. He quickly checks in the kitchen to see if there's something easy to cook, but he doesn't find anything. He settles on taking out his phone and ordering takeout. He has a page on his notes app of all your favorite things to order from different restaurants just for situations like this. Yes, he could just ask you what you want, but sometimes being surprised with your favorite food just made it taste that much better. He places the order and then walks into the bathroom to wash his face, in hopes that it might wake him up a bit. However, once he flips on the light switch, he notices one of your face masks laying on the counter. "She must not have had enough time to do it last night." He thinks to himself, making a mental note of this as he brings his cupped hands full of cool water to his face. ⸻ It's not long after the food arrives that you come home, just as exhausted and hungry as Johnny figured you'd be. He gives you a sympathetic pout before he brings you into his embrace, letting you stay for as long as you want. It's two whole minutes into the hug before you finally notice the smell of your favorite takeout. You pull away from him and place your hands on his shoulders. "Did you buy me food?" "Maybee." He says, giving you his sweet smile. All your energy must have come back to you at the thought of food, because you rushed into the kitchen to grab a plate for the both of you. "Actually, I was thinking we could put on face masks together, sit on the couch, and eat while you tell me about your day." "Genuinely Johnny, I would love nothing more." You say, following him to the bathroom. "Actually, this is perfect because I was wanting to do one yesterday but got too tired." "Oh really?" He says, pretending like he hadn’t seen the face mask earlier.  You two put your sheet masks on in the bathroom and then go over to get your food. You sit on the couch in a criss-cross position as you tell Johnny all about your day. Actually, one of your coworkers recently had a very dramatic breakup with her boyfriend, so Johnny was all ears. "You know, It's actually so hard to eat with a sheet mask on, baby." Johnny says, adjusting his mask that started to slide down. "But it's worth it, it feels so nice," You say, setting down your food and helping him with his mask. You get it back into the right position and then kiss him on his temple which puts a proud grin on his face because he knows getting you food and doing face masks together made you happy. 

[charnelhouse]

Okay so-important question ;; in one of your works there was said that red and ghost started out as fuckbuddies but judging by every interaction between the two, the posessiveness, the need to be with each other; is there a chance that these two lovebirds actually...y'know...love each other? But both are afraid of saying it??

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). This is going off the comics and there is implied sexual assault. I didn't mean to go angsty and yet. Smut, too.

Perhaps, it shouldn’t have been surprising as it was. It wasn’t as if 141 hadn’t seen Red outside of fatigues before, but this was new. The dramatic make-up and the dress shoving her tits to her chin. The platform heels.

She grimaced as she stepped out of her room. A glittering pendant pulled the front of her hair back while the rest tumbled down. The gown was emerald green. Floor length with a tight bodice.

“This is humiliating,” she growled, but she was standing straight as she fixed one of her diamond earrings. The hotel light licked her shoulders. Her lashes fluttered. 

She glided toward them, apparently unphased by the sky-high heels. Truth be told, she looked comfortable, as if she was familiar with this kind of froth and glitz. 

Her eyes slid from Price to Gaz to Soap before resting on Ghost, who hadn’t moved an inch since she’d appeared. 

“Well?” she asked, a furrow in her brow the only hint that she may have been slightly self-conscious.

“Fuckin’ fit!” Gaz praised.

“Uh,” Soap’s gaze ran all over her before his lips tugged into a Cheshire grin. “Gorgeous. Christ, bonnie, did not expect this.”

But the thing was, he did. They all did. They all knew how beautiful she was, but now it was advertised - it was highlighted within an inch of its life. She was a knockout. 

Price cleared his throat as he jerked his head at her once. “Well done.”

She laughed at his awkward formality before her attention focused on Simon again. She stuck her hip out as she crossed her arms over her chest, which only managed to push her tits higher. Price inhaled sharply. 

“Do you like it?”

Ghost stiffly turned toward his captain. “I didn’t approve of this.”

His voice was utterly cool. It was even and steady as if the girl he was regularly fucking hadn’t just walked out looking like a 1940s siren. 

“We didn’t need your permission, Riley,” Price replied. “We ran out of options.”

“I don’t want them touching Red.”

She bristled. “I’m right fucking here, Ghost.”

He tensed before facing her. “I don’t want them to touch you,” he repeated. “Fuckin’ gettin’ their filthy paws on you or -” He scraped a hand over his mask before dropping it. “It’s not right.” He shook his head. “Not for you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she hissed, looking very much like a tiger. Spitting mad in all her finery.

“We’ll be outside,” Price said before grabbing both Soap and Gaz by their tactical vests and pulling them into the hallway. It probably wasn’t right to leave. This was a mission, and one Red had agreed to, but he also knew Simon needed to exorcise whatever fears he had for the sake of the task.

Red stepped closer, placing her hand on his bicep. When he didn’t pull away, she claimed another inch before pressing her chest to his and wrapping her arms around his waist. She tucked her head under his chin, and Simon’s enormous hands automatically came up to cradle the back of her skull. He squeezed her tighter as his fingers scraped across the jeweled brooch.

“I’ll be alright,” she murmured. “I won’t let them try anything.” She lifted her face, and his thumb slipped across her cheek. “I only want you.”

He grunted.

“You know it’s not about that for me." His thumb dragged across her jaw to rest on her lower lip. “I’m not jealous, but the idea...the possibility of them assaulting you and -” He trailed off, and suddenly she understood. 

Roba. That previous capture had broken him so terribly it had scorched his identity. He was never the same and there were still nights where he woke up in a cold sweat, fisting his sheets as he struggled to swallow air. She could feel pressure behind her nose and tears in her eyes, and she bit the inside of her mouth to stop them. 

She lifted herself onto her toes, grasping his mask between her hands. “You’ll be watching me,” she reminded him. “The whole time. I know I’m safe with you.”

A beat of silence before he finally nodded. “Alright, duchess.”

She knew this was always how it was going to play out. He wouldn’t stop her, but he’d want to voice his fears so that he was free of them. He wanted her assurance. If I have you, I’ll be safe. I’ll be perfect. 

They watched each other, and as they did, the air changed. It pulsed. The tension between them tightened into an impossible knot. His gloved hand ran down her back before grasping her ass. “You do look beautiful,” he murmured. “Felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

He was hard against her thigh, and she rubbed herself into him. “We have time.”

“We don’t.”

“We could.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark and demanding, before he growled and clutched her to him. He walked her back against the bureau, her head falling against the ornate mirror. He tried getting her legs around his waist, but the skirt of her fancy dress was too tight. 

“Fuck…fuck…”

She laughed before turning around, palms slapping down on the hardwood. She stared at herself in the mirror, nose practically brushing against the glass as he loomed like a behemoth behind her. It was a sight. Simon with his skull mask, bulky tactical gear, and weapons. Red in silk and diamonds, and her hair falling in curls and waves like a China doll. He gingerly lifted her dress before kicking her feet apart. She could feel his gloved finger stroke the plump, wet flesh of her cunt before he eased it inside. Her breathing hitched, and he sunk it to the knuckle. 

“That’s a girl,” he husked.

“More,” she demanded. “Give me your cock.”

It was so crude, spilling from her painted mouth. Red was rarely direct. Everything was an innuendo with her until he'd be forced to shove her against a wall or over a bar top. Coquettish. Suggestive.

Well - I'm a lady, Simon.

You weren't being a lady last night when you asked me to stick my cock in your -

"Please," she whined, arching her spine and shoving her ass against him.

He clucked his tongue. “So needy.”

But he did it. He’d do anything she asked. 

"I want to feel you when I'm walking around in there," she begged. "I want to hurt."

He froze before a deep, gritty noise sounded from his chest that he'd never made before. Christ. He popped the button on his pants before pulling himself free. There was no room for preparation. No time at all. Red braced herself as he took her in one hard stroke. It snatched her breath, the thick of him stretching her in two pieces. There was pressure in her lower half, absolute fullness. As he began to fuck her in earnest, it felt as if he was striking the back of her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was in her skull - throbbing and pulsing as her cunt twitched and flexed around him. 

He said nothing. A few rumbles. A grunt. A groan. The echo of his belt knocking against the wood of the bureau. The wet suck of her pussy taking him to the hilt over and over again. Skin against skin. She tried to muffle her whimpers, but it was a losing game.

He was too enormous. He could break her if he wanted to. There was always the possibility that she might tear, bruise, or swell, but Simon handled her like one of his weapons. Reverance. 

He slammed into her fast and hard, every snap of his cock punching against her cervix, her walls bearing down as they clung to his length like creeping ivy. Whenever he fucked her, he felt like her body threatened to absorb him completely. She was searing hot, burning like a fever, and her pussy wound around his dick with such violence that he thought he’d never get it back. He didn’t want it. He only wanted her - needed her. If he could live in her, he would.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered as his pelvis stuttered against her ass. His cock spat inside her, the warm thick spend lashing into her womb. When he eased himself out, he left a trail of it. It ran down her thigh, oozing and drooling, and he used his fingers to plug it back in. “You keep me inside of you like that, duchess, and I’ll eat that cunt for hours the second you’re back.”

She shivered, nodding once at him in the mirror. Yes. Yes. Always. Anything for you.

Abruptly, Ghost rucked his mask above his nose, and she could see his beauty: the rugged jawline, the stubble, and the full, sensual mouth. There was a pink flush to his skin due to the vigorous lovemaking. He flashed white and blinding teeth before ducking his head and kissing her cheek. His gloved fingers - shiny with both of their climax - gripped her chin, turning her face so he could capture her lips in a hard, almost ugly kiss. 

“I’ll be watching,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He pulled away, dragging his mask back down. She thought she heard him say something else. Short. Only a few words. But when she turned to look at him, he was already heading for the door. 

[gothamite-rambler]

Cass and Jason becoming friends pt 1 (my headcanon) Enjoy!

Cass: Hi Jason.

Jason: Hi, random girl in Bruce’s house.

Cass: I’m his new protege, he is… adopting me. My full name is Cassandra Cain, but I go by Cass or Cassie. My hero's name is Orphan.

Jason sighed, shaking his head.

Jason: I freaking should’ve guessed adoption would be your answer. You even picked the name Orphan.

Cass: It’s a cool name. It’s nice to finally meet you. Bruce has told me many things about you.

Jason: Probably nothing good.

Cass: Hm… You are Jason Todd. Died at 15, revived a few years later. Skilled with weaponary. You go by the name Red Hood and distance yourself from Bruce.

Jason: … Um yeah.

Cass squinted her eyes, examining Jason.

Cass: Hm, your body is tense, your jaw, slightly clenched. You’re… angry. Who are you angry at? Is it Bruce, he is a good man who made-

Jason: I gotta go!

Cass (waving): Bye Jason!

Jason (wanting to leave as quickly as he can): Bye strange girl. Where does he find these kids?

---9 months later---

Jason entered the Wayne Manor, he snuck past Cass who is sitting in the hallway mediating.

Cass: Hi Jason.

Jason: How did you know I walked past you?

Cass (opening one of her eyes): I recognized your footsteps and you wore a cologne that had a distinct Earthy musk when we first met. I peeked a little as well. 

Jason: I should be thrown off by all of that, but I’m not. Hello again strange girl.

Cass: Cass is my preferred nickname, but you're trust issues are still strong. I will let it go for now. 

Jason: What?

Cass (changing the subject): What brings you to the manor? I haven’t seen you around that much.

Jason: I haven’t visited for a while.

Cass (giggling): I meant outside the manor. You haven’t seen me on missions, but I’ve seen you.

Jason (sarcastic): Has anyone told you you’re great at normal conversation?

Cass (gleeful): No, because I’m not.

Cass stood up finishing her mediation and walks over to Jason.

Cass: Are you here to meet Bruce?

Jason: Regrettably, yes.

Cass: He’s hiding somewhere, I can take you to him.

Jason (hesitantly): Lead the way.

Cass walks in front of Jason.

Jason: So, has he adopted you yet?

Cass: Yes and with this year passed I have to admit, he’s a good father, ten times better than mine. 

Jason (sarcastically): That’s so great for you.

Cass: Well it’s not just me who matters with this new family. As for you.

Cass spun around, stopping her walking and making Jason stop, he tensed as Cass squinted her eyes to analyze him. She noted the slight clenched fists, a sign of frustration simmering beneath the surface. The tension in his shoulders suggested he was carrying burdens he didn’t want to share.

His breathing was uneven, a telltale rhythm of someone trying to maintain composure while grappling with internal chaos. After a moment, she chose to approach him, her manner gentle but direct. Taking a measured breath, she tilted her head slightly and offered him a small, encouraging nod.

Cass: Something's weighing on you, Jason. You don’t have to face it alone.

Jason (uncomfortable): Would you stop doing that to me?

Cass (honest): It’s hard to turn off.

Jason (aggravated): I’ll find Bruce myself.

Jason walked away, grumbling under his breath. Cass tilted her head with a slight frowned, but gave an understanding nod accepting Jason wasn't trusting to her yet.

--- 2 Months Later ---

Cass (face mask costume): Hi Red Hood.

Jason: Hi… Orphan girl.

Cass: Just Orphan. I like your hero name and suit, the red motorcycle helmet works for you.

Jason: Um, huh... compliments from this family always throw me off. Thanks though.

Cass (nodding): I relate to that, but I mean it. How have you been, Ja- Red Hood?

Jason: I’ve been worse, so yeah doing better.

Cass: Oh, that’s good.

Cass noticed the man wasn't as tense when she talked to him two months ago. His unclenched jaw reassured her that he was getting better if only by a small amount.

Cass (happy): You are getting better. I’m glad. What changed?

Jason: Um, it’s not important.

Cass: I don’t have to leave for another six minutes. I can listen and not judge.

Jason avoided eye contact with Cass, then pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in defeat.

Jason: If you must know, I’ve been doing better with my team, the Outlaws. I hate people less and Bruce and I are… not yelling at each other anymore. And that’s all I will tell you.

Cass' eyes softened and she clapped eagerly.

Cass: I haven’t been through your exact situation, but I’ve been through my own… turmoil is the nicest way to describe my childhood. 

Jason: It's not like I’m a total mess or anything. Just... taking things one day at a time.

Cass tilted her head, her patience unwavering. She could sense the layers beneath his dismissive attitude, the way he was almost proud yet hesitant about his progress. 

Cass (clapping happily): That’s good, Jason. One day at a time is a strong way to live. 

Jason finally chanced a glance at her, eyes narrowing slightly. 

Jason: You really think so? 

Her smile widened, and she nodded earnestly.

Cass: I mean it. Every step counts. The fact that you don’t hate everyone is a victory. 

He smirked a bit, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as her words began to chip away at his walls. 

Jason: Positive reinforcement from you is... weirdly nice. 

Cass laughed softly, the sound lightening the mood. 

Cass: You should know that what you’re feeling is okay. When I was younger, I felt like I had to carry everything alone, but sharing those burdens made them lighter. 

Jason’s expression shifted, curiosity poking through his defenses. 

Jason: So, what happened? 

Cass took a breath, her mind drifting to the dark memories she often tried to keep at bay.

Cass: Bruce and you aren’t on the best of terms at the moment, but people like him, Grayson, Drake, they helped me trust people again. You don’t spend… time together because you want to keep your distance from them, and that’s okay. Just know that you don’t have to be perfect to deserve support.

Jason: Well, I’m glad that seems to be working for you, but I’m not there yet. 

Cass: And that’s okay too. Change takes time and I think you’re handling things in a healthier manner than you have before.

Jason: Your analysis and conclusion don’t mean a lot to me, but… thanks I guess. Now shouldn’t you be headed out?

Cass: Yes, but take care. I’m not a chatty person, but it was nice chatting with you. See you around?

Jason: Maybe.

Cass: Bye Jason.

Jason: Bye… weirdo.

Cass ran off to continue her mission, her energy infectious as she dashed away. Jason watched her go, a smile starting to form on his lips. He shook his head, rolling his eyes, but a hint of warmth in his gaze.

---A week later---

Cass: Hi Jason.

Jason glancing away from his book.

Jason: Hey Orphan.

Cass: Mind if I sit with you?

Jason: Are you going to talk? I'm reading and rather not have a conversation or you squint your eyes to see how I’m feeling today.

Cass shook her head.

Cass: Just want to meditate. There’s a bunch of guests around the manor, it conflicts with the whole focus and silence for mediation. I feel like you’re the type that isn’t much for conversation.

Jason: Most times. You can sit.

Cass smiled then sat down on the ground in a lotus position. She closed her eyes and took slow deep breaths. Jason noticed, smiling and then returning to reading.

---Two weeks later---

Cass: Hi Jason.

Jason: Hey Cassandra.

Cass perked up at him calling her by her name.

Cass: Sorry to bother you, I'm aware you're visiting to get some money from Bruce.

Jason: And borrowing some groceries.

Jason took a jug of milk out of the fridge and put it in his backpack.

Cass (laughing softly): Good one, but um, can I ask you a question?

Jason: Sure.

Cass: Do you kill people? Is that your… is that what you continue to resort to for those you see as worthless of life for their crimes? There's no other option? Be honest, we haven't been around each other a lot, I want to know.

Jason: Wow, that is something I didn't think you'd ask.

Jason closed the fridge door.

Jason: I do, my targets have changed over the years, but currently I only kill murderers and rapists. Ones who deserve it, would toss their mother under a train. They don't deserve remorse, a second chance, a nice cushy jail cell. They deserve a bullet in the head. I'm an unlicensed executioner, the ones that Arkham never uses. Why are you asking?

Cass: I'll explain in a second. You would shoot an assassin then? One whose job it is to kill. A hitman per se. No matter the creed, gender or age? You-

Jason (annoyed): Where are you going with this?

Cass (nodding resolute): Okay.

Cass rolled opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out a giant butcher knife. She passed it over to him.

Cass (holding her arms out): Go ahead, stab me?

Jason (stunned): What?

Cass: You think you're the only one who's killed? My father didn't just have me shoot dummies to become an assassin and I wasn't trained to shoot bloodthirsty criminals either. I was told never to speak, show emotion, study the target's body language and kill them.

Jason stared at the girl speechless and wondering why she was telling him this.

Cass: I've put bullet through bodies. They died and my father made sure of it. I had no say in the matter. Then Bruce saved me. If I am not worth a second chance, make it quick, preferably in the chest. Unless you want it to be slow. Maybe my back? I got a pretty bony back.

Jason (finally speaking): I'm not stabbing you!

Cass: Why not? I break your code, correct? Oh I should get Stephanie as well. She made a few kills when her father had her.

Jason: What? Back up. I'm not doing that.

Jason put the knife down on the counter.

Cass: You want to use a gun? We should head outside then.

Jason (stammering): Would you stop! You were young when you did that, that wasn't by your own choice. 

Cass: I took a life though and I have to live with that. How many out there do you think go through the same struggles? 

Jason: That's not-

Cass (serious): Jason, I get there are remorseless sickos out there and honestly for a rapist I won't be upset if they happen to die, but that shouldn't be your only option, because with each kill you lose a part of yourself. Your heart becomes colder.

Cass placed her hand on Jason's chest.

Jason (jokingly): That's my udder you're touching.

Cass: Coping with humor, I like it. Seriously though, you've heard this lecture from Bruce, I've eavesdropped on that shouting match. You don't have to follow his code to the dot... Honestly in his early days I heard he didn't. He was young and here you are, young, starting out, think of alternative options over BANG BANG DEAD! 

Cass laughed at her joke. Jason smiled confused.

Jason: I make no promises I will accept your fluffy reasoning, but maybe… maybe. And stop being weird, you held your hands out and everything.

Cass: I was trying to be dramatic. It worked didn't it?

Jason: You're just lucky I tolerate you.

Cass: Tolerable is better than hate. See? You're coming around.

Jason: Whatever, I have to meet up with Bruce. I'll see you around?

Cass: Better not be with an AR-15.

Jason (joking): I'm not legally allowed to own those in Gotham. 

With that he left with his snacks and a little respect for Cass. Cass grabbed the knife, flipped it the air, catching the hilt and placed it back in the kitchen drawer.

To be continued... ---> Pt 2

[adiraargent]

Challenge - Levi Ackerman

Levi Ackerman x reader

The walls of the barracks were quiet, the only sounds the distant clanging of blades and the soft whispers of soldiers preparing for another day. You leaned against the cool stone, watching the light shift through the narrow windows, contemplating your place in this relentless world.

Levi Ackerman had always been an enigma. His presence commanded respect, yet he often kept others at arm’s length. You admired his strength and resilience but struggled to decipher the layers beneath his stoic exterior. You’d had your eyes on him for a while, sure he was a bit mean and had a resting bitch face, but he was tidy and he was handsome. His cold eyes and smooth skin… his soft hair, the way his muscles showed through his uniform when he moved even just a little bit

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training yard, you found yourself alone with him. He was cleaning his blades, each movement deliberate and precise. You hesitated before approaching, the air thick with unspoken words.

“Why do you linger?” he asked, not looking up from his task. You stood up straight, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way that you had been staring at him while you pretended to be busy cleaning your boots.

“I was just—” You fumbled, heart racing. “I wanted to see if you needed help.”

He finally glanced at you, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “Help? I can handle my own equipment.” You gnawed at the inside of your lip, worried this was a bad idea.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. I just thought… maybe we could talk?”

He sighed, placing his blade down. “Talk about what?” He looked at you, his heart thumping a little bit faster than usual. He knew you well, you were in his squad and had spoken many times, he really liked talking with you, though he didn’t plan on admitting that of course.

You hesitated again, then took a step closer. “About everything. The fights, the losses… and us.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly masked by indifference. “There is no ‘us.’ There’s the mission and the people we protect. Focus on that.” He had already lost so much, he knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with the pain of losing someone so close to him, so he made sure to keep you at a distance all these years, constantly reminding himself not to grow any attachments.

His words stung, but you refused to back down. “You think I can’t care about both? You’re not just a soldier to me, Levi.”

For a moment, the air was thick with tension. Levi’s expression softened, just slightly. “I don’t do well with attachments. They only lead to pain.”

“I get that,” you said softly, “but isolating yourself won’t protect you from it.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as you stood anxiously in front of him, trying your best to keep up a confident facade

He studied you, as if searching for something. “You don’t understand the weight of this world.” He was right, you’d been on his squad for only 2 years and somehow you’d always been sent with a group that rarely attracted the attention of any titans. ‘Lucky’ you had called yourself, though hearing that someone you were close too wasn’t coming home was enough to make you want to die every time.

“Maybe I don’t, but I want to share that weight with you. You don’t have to carry it alone.” You didn’t know everything your captain had gone through, but you knew he’d seen stuff that was enough to drive an ordinary man completely insane.

He stood, the space between you suddenly feeling charged with unspoken emotions. “You think you can change my mind?”

“I think you deserve to feel something other than pain. Just let me in.” Levi shuddered slightly at your words, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

A long pause stretched between you, the silence echoing your heart’s desperate plea. Finally, he stepped closer, the distance shrinking. “You’re persistent.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Levi’s lips curled into a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “It’s annoying.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing over you. “Maybe I can live with that.”

He held your gaze for a heartbeat longer before stepping back, the barrier still there but slightly more permeable. “Just remember: I’m not easy to love.”

You met his eyes with determination. “I’m not afraid of a challenge.”

With a slight nod, Levi turned back to his blades, but the tension in the air had shifted. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you felt the possibility of something more—a connection forged in the fires of battle and tempered by understanding.

And as the last light of day faded, you stood by his side, ready to face whatever came next together.