#i would kill a man in cold blood for this movie

[calmcoldevening]

Would you please write some first time sex HC with Art the Clown and a virgin female reader? How would he initiate or how would he be seeing as he’s her first?

Sure, sugar! Hope you'll like it 🍬

First time sex with Art the clown headcanons

Tw: adult content, smut, mention of blood, but mostly I tried to make it soft and comfy. No minors, sugar

• Most of the time, he has rather strange and somewhat childish ways of showing love. Although the fact that he didn't kill you already says a lot.

• Usually he just looks at you and smiles his trademark creepy smile, although in fact there are a lot of unspoken emotions hidden behind those crazy burning eyes. For you, his heart burns endlessly in a constant stream of childish joy and desire to protect.

• Art likes to come up to you while you're sitting, for example, on the couch in the living room and watching a movie, and put his head on your lap. His fingers dig firmly but gently into the flesh of your soft thighs, causing you to blush deeply and bite your lower lip. But there is nothing vulgar about it. Art just wants your gentle human warmth. Most of the time, his hands and bodies are cold, so he's crazy about the heat of your skin. Especially when you're embarrassed.

• He will be flattered by the fact that he is your first in many ways, indeed. He likes this feeling of possessiveness and an almost animal right to possess. Despite its somewhat childishness and intensity, Art doesn't put any pressure on you. He very often listens to your opinion and takes care of you in his own way.

• Art can be serious if he really wants to, and in the depths of his sadistic heart, he understands this perfectly well.

• It's not that this demon has any desire other than the feeling of itching on his skin from the desire to kill and shed blood. But over time, Art notices that he is increasingly watching couples in love. Very often, he kills teenagers or young people fucking at the wrong time in the wrong place. But he doesn't admire it in any way. He is interested in watching this. And in the place of this red-haired girl, Art involuntarily introduces you.

• Would you make the same sounds? They would probably be even more beautiful with you. What kind of face would you have at that moment? Would you moan his name or vice versa, try to hold back every gentle sound and meow?

• He was interested in getting to know this side of the human body.

• That's why, right after returning home after another murder, Art found you in the kitchen. A man came up close to you from behind and wrapped his arms around your waist with a firm grip. His lips, painted with black lipstick, instantly found your neck, kissing and gently biting the skin. You blushed instantly, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

• "Art.. What are you doing?" Of course you knew what he was doing. No wonder you often thought about this kind of dirty stuff when your boyfriend was at work. But it's one thing to dream, and another to do it. You weren't ready at all.

• Art continued to kiss your flesh, hinting at what he wants. He wanted you to show him this, to let him feel this strange feeling of two bodies together. For some reason, he was carried away by the idea that you know what to do. Or at least your body knows.

• What was his surprise when you not only did not respond to his caresses, but also quietly whimpered because of a sudden feeling of fear and insecurity.

• Art immediately stepped back and gently but insistently turned you around to face him, pressing your lower back against the kitchen set. You felt how unpleasantly the T-shirt stuck to your body from the blood that soaked it. Art will gently take your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks and wiping tears from your skin. His silent way of dumping what happened to you.

• "..scared." The only word that comes out of your mouth. After standing in silence for a while, Art finally connects all the dots and his face is decorated with a devilish grin. He leans closer, wanting to take you in another passionate embrace, but you gently push him away from you. "Please.. take the blood away."

• Art frowns and visibly sulks, but obeys, retiring to the bathroom. It gives you some time to catch your breath and mentally prepare. You're nervously biting your lip in anticipation.

• Although you desperately wanted to let your boyfriend see this side of you and show him your love, the unknown scared you. And you didn't want to disappoint him in any way. These thoughts gnawed at you in the most unpleasant way.

• When Art cleaned and dried his suit, he found you in the bedroom. His knowledge was also limited, but unlike you, because of his inhuman nature, he just wasn't afraid of something so simple. He literally killed people. And yet, the sight of you, so vulnerable and scared, made the 'heart' shrink uncomfortably, which he really didn't like.

• He came over to your bed and sat on the edge of it, looking up at you. His gloved hand took yours and pulled you into his lap. His fingers gently dug into your hips, tasting the pleasant sensation, and a satisfied grin appeared on his face. Perhaps he was trying to cheer you up somehow. You leaned forward and gently covered his lips with yours. Both of you have significantly improved your kissing skills since the last time, so his tongue alone was already making you dizzy. The kiss was slow and soft, Art's fingers gently stroking your thighs.

• After a couple of minutes, you leaned back, looking down at your boyfriend and catching your heated breath. You carefully took one of his hands with your own and put his palm on your chest, nervously biting your lip and nodding as if giving permission. Art blinked a little, but later smiled contentedly, squeezing the soft flesh under his fingers. He saw how scared and awkward you were, so he wanted to do it surprisingly carefully and slowly, although his own knowledge was limited to spying on fucking teenagers.

• Art pulled off your T-shirt, throwing it on the floor, and reverently gently ran his cold hands along your sides.

• Dark eyes burning with a primal hunger. With a swift motion, he lifts your skirt, exposing your bare thighs to his leering gaze. Art's long, pale fingers dig into your soft flesh, squeezing and kneading as if to claim you very essence.He hooks a thumb under your lacy underwear, yanking it aside to reveal the virgin petals, glistening with nervous moisture. Art's lips part in a silent, mocking grin, relishing your vulnerability. One gloved hand trails lower, fingers splaying across your slick heat as he rubs slow, deliberate circles.

• His painted mouth gently presses against your neck, leaving noticeable bite marks and black paint on your skin. He was clearly filled with a desire to mark you as his own. Art's desire grows, although the grin never leaves his face for a moment. The tension in your pants is almost painful. He carefully removes the glove from his left hand and gently runs his fingers along the curve of your heated thigh. Finally, he finds the coveted moist warmth by dipping one finger into it with a wet squish. You nervously bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that have appeared in your eyes. Art kisses your neck and chin, caresses your sweat-soaked skin with his tongue and lips. The stretch around his fingers is so slight that Art wonders mentally how his dick would fit inside you. Without thinking twice, he dips another finger, and then another and another. Although your walls are still damn wet and hot, almost hungry.

• Art's fingers slow their rough exploration as he senses your increasing unease. He gentles his touch, caressing your thighs with tender strokes, as if trying to soothe any lingering nerves. He continues his deliberate advances, guiding one of your legs to wrap around his waist as he positions himself at your hot entrance. With a calculated slowness, Art begins to push inside, relishing each tiny resistance and the subsequent surrender of your innocence. He pauses often, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, all while maintaining a hypnotic, unblinking stare. Once he's fully sheathed within you, Art's expression remains stoic, belying the depraved satisfaction he derives from your virgin heat and whimpers. He begins to move, setting a rhythm that's both brutal and methodical, his pale face a mask of concentration as he claims your body with a single-minded focus.

• His movements are slow, almost gentle. He gently squeezes your sides, allowing you to lean against him, and showers kisses on your face and hair.

• Gradually, his movements accelerate, his brain melts from the thrill of such a hot moment. But his mind is still focused on you. The way you sound, the way you feel, the way you feel good. He feels you pulsating and shrinking around him, and tries to rub as hard as possible against that strange point inside you from which, as he realized, you see the stars. Despite his inhuman nature, he was surprisingly absolutely focused on wanting to please you. He wanted you to feel good only with him. To make you feel good.

• When you cum around his cock with a short moan, Art gently presses you to him, splashing streams of hot semen into you and just catching his breath. His lips are kissing your neck, and his hand is stroking your wet hair. His way of saying 'good girl.'

[drac-kool-aid]

Y'know, something that gets me, is that in the book, Dracula's intentional predation of Lucy starts off with an accidental meeting. Sure, Lucy slept walked, and an argument could be made her path might have been supernaturally influenced, but I say she'd already been a known sleep-walker, and she went directly to a place she was familiar with.

Her stumbling onto Dracula's hiding spot in a very vulnerable state was just an accident, and from there, he intentionally set out to harm her, and through that, everyone around her he could get.

This is sort of related to Jonathan, too. Had Mr. Hawkins not come down with a bad case of gout, Jonathan wouldn't have been sent to Castle Dracula in his stead. Sure, Dracula probably would have had his fun with Hawkins before inevitably killing him, but I doubt he would have drawn it out so long or taken so much delight.

Dracula never sets out with a master-plan to attack Lucy or Jonathan. They just end up in his path and spark his interest. We know that if he isn't interested in you, he'll kill you. He'll, he breaks Mr. Swales neck doesn't even bite him. But the two victims he decides he's going to make suffer the longest he possibly can, he just stumbles upon and goes "oh this will be fun". Later, we see him start choosing victims as a way to retaliate, but for the two inciting incident victims upon which the rest of the story hangs...its just wrong place wrong time.

The reason this struck me is that I was misremembering. For some reason, which I now believe due to thinking about the *through gritted teeth* Coppola film, is that Lucy is sort of hand-picked by Dracula to be his victim. And yeah, the fucking film ain't subtle in its blaming of Lucy's victimization on the fact that she was Too Pretty and Too Flirtatious and Dracula psychically drew her into the garden in a flowing diaphanous dress, but it's really her fault....I hate this movie.

Like, i just read the films Wikipedia plot synopsis, Dracula "psychically seduces" Lucy before biting her. He chooses her out of everyone in England deliberately.

And just...no. That's not what happens. Lucy got so stressed from her wedding that her latent sleep walking started again. Mina gets so tired from the constant stress she falls asleep without meaning to. Lucy went to their favorite spot...Dracula just happened to be there and took advantage and both Lucy and Mina weren't floating along softly into a garden with a fan letting their hair blow, but cold, scared, and covered in mud and blood, and forced to sneak back to the house that way, facing not only the supernatural but the very ordinary horrors of being caught outside at night by a strange man.

Idk. The tragedy is that Dracula didn't set out to fuck with these people. It's just that they were the ones who crossed his path that he took an interest in, and he decided to draw it out as long as possible.

(Oh fuck, this is the crew of the Demeter too. It isn't like Draculas got some big plan. He just decides he's going to play with his food. Had he boarded any other ship it would have ended up the same way.)

I guess in conclusion, I find it odd that adaptions seem to need to find a reason for him doing what he does. Like, Coppola has to conjure up a whole reincarnation backstory at one point, but I don't understand why!! Let Dracula just be an opportunist, his casual cruelty knowing no reason. That makes him scarier.

[elllisaaa]

how ateez would confess to you

-> words count : 3.7k words

-> genre : ateez members crushing on you

-> warnings : just a lot of sweetness

-> sorry if I made any spelling or grammar mistakes, english is not my first language

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist

KIM HONGJOONG - JEALOUS

he’s the type to be bold. but like REALLY bold. 

like he’s not embarrassed at all to check you out when you ask him if your outfit looks good and say “it looks more than good, don’t worry.” with that damn smirk screaming in my pillow.

he’s also very protective - always has his hand on the small of your back when you’re walking in a crowded place, and always gives you his jacket or sweater if you’re cold or feeling uncomfortable. 

he has an eye on you wherever you two are going to be sure that you’re safe. 

asks you to send him a message so he is sure that you’re home whenever you go out of work, or hang out late without him, or when he can’t walk you home. 

that being said, it’s also a fact that this man is possessive.

have you seen him whenever an atiny mentions liking another group, or going to other concerts than theirs ?

he would be the same with you.

but since you’re not yet a couple, he tries to hide it as well as he can.

but jealousy would be his breaking point. 

seeing you laugh and joke with some trainee of the agency he didn’t even know the name of really made his blood boil. 

his death stare was burning holes in the back of the head of the poor boy you were talking with. 

he would approach both of you, and as if the trainee wasn’t already intimidated by hongjoong presence, he was looking at him like he killed someone lmao.

the trainee was almost shaking when hongjoong dragged you away from him under a ridiculous excuse. 

“- Joong ! Where are we going ?”

He didn’t answer, jaw clenched and his grip on your wrist almost painful as he brought you to his studio. Hongjoong closed the door behind the two of you, just to have the time to think about the way he was going to explain himself. He always succeeded in controlling himself and mostly his jealousy, but today, he didn’t exactly know why, it was too hard seeing you with someone else, laughing like you should be with only him. 

“- Hongjoong ? What’s gotten into you ?”

He took a deep breath. Maybe it was finally the moment to say the truth. It would take a weight out of his shoulder, and he could have an answer to all his questions. Hongjoong turned towards you, a smirk on his lips.

“- You want me to be honest ?”

You simply nobbed, looking at him expectantly, and even if he acted confident, his heart was beating fast. 

“- I didn’t like seeing you laugh with another guy. Well, I didn’t like it every other time it happened. But I think today was just too much to bear for me. Because I love you. I want you to be mine, only mine. I want to be the one who makes you laugh like that, and I want you to be the one who makes me laugh. What do you say ?”

The blush creeping on your cheeks as you listened to his words, and watched his grin widened was really noticeable. But your smile was even more telling to him.

“- I say yes.”

“from now on and forever, I won’t let you go. you’re mine.”

PARK SEONGHWA - SAFE

he is literally the sweetest person ever. 

the type to text you throughout the day to ask if you have eaten and if your answer is no, expect him to be at your door in 5 minutes, drank or took a break. 

so, so caring and always there whenever you need him.

mention that you had a bad day or are a little down ? expect a movie night, your favorite snacks and a lot of cuddles from hwa. 

speaking of that, he sometimes always acts as if he was your boyfriend. 

not that it’s bothering you, on the contrary, but he still claims to everyone that you two are just best friends. 

and that’s confusing because he’s out there holding your hands, putting his arm on your shoulder, cuddling with you. 

to be honest, seonghwa has been trying to make things ambiguous between the two of you lately, in hopes that you would take the hint that he likes you.

like that one time he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and you thought that he was about to kiss you.  

so tonight, while he was laying on top of you on your couch, focused on the show playing on the TV, you decided it was time to clarify this situation.

“- Hwa ?”

The man turned his head towards you at the mention of his surname, big doe eyes watching you and waiting for what you wanted to say. You hoped that he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. 

“- Can I ask you a question ?

- Yeah, of course.”

Seonghwa’s smile almost made your hands shake, and you came back to playing with his hair to try and hide it.

“- What are we ?”

It was as if the whole world had stopped spinning for Seonghwa. Was it finally happening ? Was this your way of asking him to be more than friends ? He silently prayed for it, closing his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts, and also to escape your piercing gaze that was making him even more nervous than he already was. 

“- I’m willing to be whatever you want us to be angel.

- And what do you think of… You being mine, and me being yours ?”

Seonghwa giggled quietly, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide the red tint on his cheeks. His arms, that circled your waist, tightened their grip, not planning on letting you go anytime soon. 

“that’ll be perfect. that’s what i wanted us to be all along.”

JEONG YUNHO - SLEEPY

100% golden retriever energy, you can’t say otherwise i’ll fight.

i don’t know, he just gives this puppy boyfriend vibes, all fluffy and clingy and sweet, he’s just so cute honestly.  

the type to always want to hang out, because his love language his quality time.

will make it a ritual to eat with you at least 2 times a week, weekend hangouts where you either simply go shopping or sometimes he plans activities, and movie nights too. 

so smiley around you his cheeks hurts when he goes home after spending the day with you. 

he gets especially giggly every time you do something a little silly, like when you trip while trying to show him something.

always makes sure you’re alright afterwards though.

to put it in a nutshell, he’s just very cute.

but he finds you even more cute, particularly when you’re all sleepy. 

because then you snuggle up to him, seeking his warmth, and you often fall asleep on him, unaware of how much you make his heart flutter. 

during your usual movie night, you felt tired and rested on his shoulder.

As Yunho heard your breathing become more regular, he assumed that you were asleep. He was always so glad that you felt safe enough around him to be this vulnerable. And mostly, he got to admire your beautiful face without risking you to catch him. He didn’t know why but tonight, he felt on the verge of telling you. And after all, you were asleep, you couldn’t hear him. He already said it to you a few times like that, what could go wrong ?

“- You’re breathtaking Y/N, really… I love you.”

As Yunho was ready to cover you with a blanket to keep you even more warm, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“- Can you say it again ? I’m not sure I understood.”

His panicked eyes turned to your fully awake ones, looking at him with a mischievous glint. The poor boy gulped loudly, not knowing if he was going to be in trouble or if you were just messing with him, as you always did. 

“- I-I love you, I really do. I just… It was easier telling you when you couldn’t reject me.”

A shy chuckle escaped him as he averted your gaze, missing the smile eating your whole face at his confession. 

“- Look at me, big baby.”

And when he eventually did, you finally answered his silent interrogation.

“- I love you too, so much.”

Yunho engulfed you in the biggest hug, already taking advantage of your new relationship.

“I can’t wait to spend every day and every night by your side.”

KANG YEOSANG - PERFECT

he’s not very talkative, in the sense that he’s not always making remarks about what you tell him.

but don’t worry, he got it all written in his head. 

it could be the most useless detail about a story that happened to you years ago, and he still will remember it.

because you’re too precious to him to forget anything about you he’s so boyfriend material.

the type to take notice of what you like to eat.

say that you love a certain type of food one time, and you’ll get it every now and then. 

he remembers your coffee order from day one.

also a really good listener and give the best advice. 

that being said, he’s the type to notice if you looked at something with envy in a shop, or said that you wanted this or that.

and bets that he’ll confess with a little gift that he bought for you.

maybe that’ll be a waste of money if you say no, but he doesn’t care, you’re worth it.

so he’ll buy this necklace you’ve been talking about for weeks, and come to you one day, almost out of the blue to offer it to you.

“- You shouldn’t have, really. That’s too much.

- It’s never too much when it comes to you.”

You were blushing like crazy, as much as from his words and how his fingers brushed against your skin as Yeosang attached the necklace for you. His eyes reflected nothing but love and adoration when he looked at you. 

“- You’re beautiful, it suits you perfectly.

- Thank you so much Sangie ! But what is this for ? It’s not my birthday or anything special…”

Yeosang lowered his head for several seconds before mustering the courage to let the words finally spill from his mouth. They were coming out so naturally that it seemed like you were truly made for one another.

“- I wanted to give you this just because you loved it, but also to remind you how much I love you. And I don’t mean it in a friendly way. I like you. And I hope, if you return my feelings, that this necklace is gonna remind you of that everyday.”

Your smile was enough of an answer for him, but you took a step forward, putting your hand on Yeosang’s cheek and making his heart beat faster. 

“- I’ll wear it everyday from now on. I must find something for you to wear and remember how much I love you too.”

“let’s get matching ones then, that’ll make us soulmates.”

CHOI SAN - FORCED

now this boy is the most obvious when it comes to crushes.

like all the members could tell that he was down bad for you since the first day.

but you didn’t seem to notice.

however, it was indeed very clear since he looked at you as if you put all the stars in the sky. 

really, i don’t understand how you didn’t notice.

beside the fact that he’s literally a simp for you, he’s also been your best friend for several years now, and he knows you like the back of his hand except your undying love for him.

he had always been by your side : when you were sad or happy, when you had your first crush and even when you got drunk for the first time. 

the members having obviously noticed how san was struggling to tell you how he felt, they tried to help him multiple times.

to be honest, this was not really efficient but at least they tried. 

the latest attempt was at this little party they planned at the dorms, and of course you were invited.

at one point, everyone gathered to play truth or dare, and of course, it was a trick to get you two to confess to each other not very slick, yeah.

“- So San, truth or dare ?

- Truth, I have nothing to hide.”

His confident smile made you chuckle, knowing all his embarrassing secrets and also knowing how much he, in fact, had to hide. 

“- Well, then tell us who your crush is.”

The smirk on Yunho’s face made a deep contrast with the defeated one on San face. You felt your own smile flatter as you tried not to look at your best friend. You knew this day would come. Of course San wouldn’t stay with you until your old days. Of course he would find a better partner. You were only his best friend, not his lover. 

“- I… Uh-

- I thought you had nothing to hide, Sannie.”

The group laughed collectively at Wooyoung's remark, except you and San. You were almost ready to stand up and leave when your best friend turned to you.

“- Y/N… I really love you.”

Your eyes widened as San ran away immediately. Around you, the members were all whistling and making weird noises. But you didn’t hear them. You only heard San’s words again and again. Quickly after, you followed him to the kitchen. He had to know how much you loved him too. When you found him, he had his head pressed on the fridge, eyes closed and probably overthinking everything he had ever said and done.

“- San…”

He turned to you quickly, worry filling up his gaze.

“- Listen Y/N, I’m really sorry ! I shouldn't have said that in front of everyone, I should’ve kept it for a moment just between us, or never tell you at all in fact. I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable and I’m- 

- San, stop.”

You took a step toward him, your smile eating your face. 

“- We’ve known each other for years, you’ll never make me uncomfortable. Stop thinking too much, okay ? ‘Cause I love you too, since I don’t even remember when because you’re the most important person in my life.”

No answer came except his lips on yours, and his hand on your waist, pulling you against his body.

“i’ve always known that one day we’ll be together, and that one day i’ll marry you. but let’s keep that for later.”

SONG MINGI - DRUNK

the boy is a stuttering and nervous mess around you.

blushing everytime you smile at him, but denying it if you ever mention it before blushing even more, he’s so cute.

besides the fact he’s so impressed by your charisma and presence, he’s very funny around you.

the type to make the dumbest jokes and put himself in ridiculous situations if that makes you laugh.

because your smile and laugh are the most beautiful things he had ever seen and heard.

it’s so funny to see a big guy like him being so amazed by just one person, you find that really endearing. 

but that also means that he’s not brave at all. 

like, if he ever tried to just muster up the courage to tell you that he has the biggest crush on you, he would chicken out as soon as he saw you.

and I think that to be able to confess, he would have to take a little liquid courage yes, that means getting drunk.

one night, the boys were celebrating the release of their new comeback with some drinks and mingi asked you to come with them.

and of course, he’ll end up drinking too much, hoping that he would either stop thinking about you or finally telling you how he felt. 

“- Y/N !”

Mingi’s scream made you jolt in place and turn around quickly, smiling when you saw him trying to walk straight in your direction, with his rosy cheeks and glossy eyes. He was cute, really cute. But you didn’t expect him to literally throw himself in your arms. You caught him as best as you could, shivering as his breath tickled your neck.

“- Are you alright Mingi ?”

He nodded his head, trying to steady himself and standing straight on his feet again. You looked up at him, preparing yourself to decode his slurred words. 

“- Yeah… Yes, I’m alright but I wanted to say something to you… I really, really like you… I mean, like you, not like a friend, I want you to be my lover… Because I love you.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Mingi’s heart skipped a beat. His brain was all mushy just from seeing your gaze focused on him and only him, and alcohol wasn’t helping at all in controlling the blush on his cheeks.

“- I like you too Mingi, and I would like to be your lover too. But we’ll talk about this when you’re sober, okay ?”

________________________________________

“- I really said that ?”

You chuckled lightly, caressing his cheeks softly, diving in his mesmerizing, hypnotizing eyes.

“- Yeah, you did. But to be honest, it was very cute. You’re very cute anyway. So, would you like to be my lover Mingi ?”

The boy in question pecked your lips, smiling too.

“that’s not even a question princess. i’ll be by your side as long as you’ll let me stay.”

JUNG WOOYOUNG - IMPULSIVE

i see him as someone very spontaneous.

if he passes by a restaurant he likes, no matter what hour it is or what he has to do, he’ll stop and eat. 

if he likes someone, he’s gonna tell them. 

that’s what you love about him, and that’s also probably how you met.

he was certainly doing something stupid, as always, and ran into you, making you fall on the floor. 

and boom ! you were best friends forever.

he didn’t stop doing ridiculous things, on the contrary since he noticed that you’re in the same mood as him and that it’s making you laugh, he’ll be doing it even more. 

but the thing is that wooyoung wants way more than being friends since the first day.

but now that he’s got you in his life, he’s a little (very) afraid of losing you. 

so he’s gonna try and hide his feelings as best as he can. 

but when he passed by this flower shop, and saw your favourite ones standing outside, he couldn’t help thinking of you.

and that’s how he ended up at your door, with the flowers, trying to calm himself down.

“- Woo ? What are you doing here ?

- I.. Uh… These are for you !”

He handed you the flowers, feeling a blush creeping on his cheeks as you took them hesitatingly. Wooyoung never felt so nervous in his life. Even before his first concert, even before his first fanmeeting. Even with all the stressful events he had experienced being an idol, he never got so anxious. 

“- Thank you, I guess ? What are these for ? It’s not my birthday, nor anything special I think.”

You chuckled at your own words, leaving Wooyoung asking himself why he did that.

“- Don’t get me wrong ! I like them, they’re beautiful and I’m surprised you even remembered what my favourite flowers were ! But why ? I don’t understand…”

He thought about letting out all the words he kept for himself for weeks, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. So instead, he leaned in to kiss you. It was not even a peck : he kissed you passionately, like it was the last thing he got to do before dying. You let the flowers fall to the floor, dropping them without any regrets when you tug at Wooyoung’s hair, deepening your kiss. And his smile when you backed out for air told you everything you needed to know. 

“i’ll buy you flowers everyday if it means i get to kiss you like this.”

CHOI JONGHO - TEXT

first thing first, this man’s smile could kill you and me, he’s so cute that’s got to be illegal.

the type to value your friendship so much, to the point he prefers to just be your friend than ever risking your relationship if he’s not 100% certain that your feelings are mutual.

his crush developed slowly, falling for you little by little and growing fond of you much more as time passed.

the members noticed how much he liked you when they saw that jongho lets you sleep on his shoulder whenever you are tired.

or when he willingly hugs you every time you need it.

he doesn’t like physical contact but with you, it’s natural and he sincerely appreciates it.

so careful when it comes to his feelings, because he doesn’t want to lose you or upset you.

that’s why i think he would confess through very, very long messages he’ll send late at night.

probably threw his phone away as soon as he did it, not wanting to see your response. 

but that’s also why he did it : to let you choose if you wanted to respond or just ignore what he just told you. 

so when you called the next day, he panicked.

“- Hi Jongho ! 

- H-Hi Y/N.”

At least, your tone seemed as cheerful as usually, and not upset or disappointed.

“- I must admit I was really surprised when I saw your texts when I woke up this morning. I was not expecting that at all.

- And… Is it in a bad or a good way ?”

Jongho didn’t want to pressure you, but he needed to know how you felt, needed to know if he should smile or bury himself six feet under. 

“- In a good way, don’t worry.”

You clearly heard his sigh of relief, which made you both chuckle at the other end of the phone. And both of you had the biggest smile on your faces.

“- I’ll need at least two hours to even come close to a good answer and I don’t have the time right now. So just listen to that : I like you too, so much you can’t imagine. But if you’re willing to listen to my boring ramble for hours…”

“i love listening to you, I’ll never get tired of it..”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Turmoil

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst

Trigger warning: The reader is attacked, tied up, and given Scarecrow's fear toxin, thoughts of dead loved ones, blood - Damian is vengeful and goes after her attackers.

For the past couple of weeks, you'd been trying to explore your new relationship with Nikolas. He was everything a boyfriend should be - kind, considerate, fun to be around. You'd gone on the typical dates: dinner and a movie, a casual walk through the city, lazy afternoons hanging out in your dorm. It was easy. But there was one problem.

Every time you studied his face for too long, the same sad realization crept in. You weren't as attracted to him as you were... to Damian. Fine. You admit it.

Nick was the sweet, sunshine type. The kind of guy who would make you laugh and take care of you. But Damian... Damian was bad. Brooding. Sharp edges and quiet intensity. The kind of man who made your pulse race and your mind wander to places. You could picture Nikolas holding your hand, but with Damian, you saw someone who would take control. There was a thrill in the idea of letting go, handing the reins over to him, not having to think for once.

For days, you'd been teetering between the smart choice - Nick - and the one that made your heart beat faster, the one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how much you tried. Especially at night.

It didn't help that the three of you came across each other on campus often. There were many times when Nick came to meet you after class and walk you to your research lab, and you would catch Damian glaring at the two of you, his arms cross and his eyes narrowed. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when you caught him looking - ironically, you were the one who redirected their gaze to the floor in shame. It was all backward.

Meanwhile, Damian had buried himself in his routine. His training, his classes, his late-night patrols, and of course, his fellow elites; heiresses, models, and children of Gotham's 1%, who he was always captured with at night clubs, as your roommate helpfully showed you on her twitter reccomended.

In reality, Damian tried anything to drown out the thoughts of you in his head, the memory of you looking up at him with your soft, vulnerable eyes. The moment he rejected you replayed more times than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t need distractions right now. Not while you were off with Nikolas Hill, laughing at his jokes and letting him kiss you, hold you, touch you whenever he pleased. Damian scoffed at the idea. Hill was a decent guy, sure, but nowhere near your match. But if you wanted to waste your time, that was your right.

He was in the middle of his evening workout when his earpiece beeped, drawing him from his train of thought.

“Robin?” Oracle’s voice filtered through.

“Hm?” he responded, still lost in his own head as he lowered down and pushed up with one hand.

“Are you on campus right now?”

Damian stilled, suddenly alert. “No. Why?”

“There’s been an attack.”

His blood ran cold. “Where?”

“Maddison Hall.”

His mind flashed to you. Maddison Hall was where you spent most of your time working with Professor Kace and the other researchers. Before he even had time to process the rest of her words, Damian was on his feet, every nerve alight with tension.

“I’m on it,” he said, already moving.

“Wait, Robin, I don’t have all the—”

Her voice cut off as Damian turned off his earpiece, barely taking time to grab his gear before he was out the door.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The sight before him nearly made Damian drop his father’s "no-kill" rule on the spot.

You lay crumpled on the cold floor of the lab, hands bound behind your back, duct tape muffling any scream for help you tried to make. You were shaking as if trapped in some nightmare. Your eyes, which he was used to always being filled with curiosity about the world, were wide with terror, streaks of black mascara ran down your cheeks. It wasn’t just the sight of you restrained that twisted his insides but also the fear he saw on your face. A look he never wanted to see again.

His instincts screamed to go to you, to comfort you, to pull you into his arms and shield you from whatever horrors had been forced into your mind. But a darker instinct also conflicted within him the instinct to find whoever did this and end them along with their entire bloodline.

He freed your wrists and removed the tape from your mouth, but his gaze was already scanning the room, searching for the coward who had done this to you.

"Oracle," he growled into his comm, barely containing his fury. "Do you have any visual on the perp?"

"Damn it! Nothing yet. They must have disguised themselves as a student," Oracle’s frustrated voice crackled in his ear. "Damian, is she -"

“Yes," Damian cut her off, pulling a syringe from his belt. “It’s Fear Toxin.”

You whimpered, still lost in the hellscape the toxin had built in your mind. Damian injected the antidote into your shoulder. Watching you writhe in pain made his blood freeze. He lifted you into his arms as gently as he could and moved toward the door, but the growing crowd of students outside only irritated him further.

“Move,” he barked, his voice low and dangerous. “She needs a hospital.”

Halfway to the nearest emergency center, he changed his mind. He wasn’t taking you somewhere filled with people who would ask questions, who could poke and prod at your fragile state. Instead, he shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop, pulling both of you up and away from the crowd.

As your vision started to clear, you groaned, your body trembling in his hold. “R-Robin…” Your voice cracked, laced with panic. “My parents... they z please, you have to save them.”

“It’s not real,” he said softly, kneeling and holding you as close to him as he dared, providing a warmth that helped ground you. “The toxin made you see things that weren’t real. Is that what you saw? Your parents?”

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once again. “I saw them die. Please, you have to - ” You fumbled with your pockets, desperately trying to find your phone, anything that could help you reach them.

Damian’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. His white lenses stared down at you, and for a moment, you wished you could see his eyes, see the real person beneath the mask. “Your parents are fine.”

His voice, deep and calm. There was something about the way he spoke - so sure, so steady - that made you believe him.

“It’s not real?” you asked, voice trembling, trying to keep yourself from breaking down completely.

He nodded. “Call them. You’ll see.”

Your hands shook as you fumbled with your phone, which was now cracked. You dialed the number, waiting for what seemed like forever for each each ring. Then she finally picked up.

“Honey, thank God!” Your mom’s voice came through. “Are you okay? I’ve been watching the news - what’s going on over there?”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to sound normal. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just… in my room. Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine, sweetie. Just worried sick about you.”

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” you blurted out, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll come home tomorrow.”

Your mom’s voice lifted in relief. “That’s great! Be safe, honey.”

After hanging up, your body gave out. Your knees buckled, and a sob you’d been holding in finally broke free. You fell onto the ground, unable to stop the tears. He caught you, lowering both of you to the ground until you were sitting in his lap.

In his hold, you didn’t feel the fear you expected from someone like him. You’d heard stories, read articles about this Robin. How he wasn’t like the others - scarier, more brutal, more dangerous. But here, in his arms, you felt safe.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Your mind kept replaying those awful images, the sound of your parents’ screams still echoing in your ears.

“I thought I lost them,” you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Damian’s heart clenched. He had seen people cry before - mostly because he caused them to. But seeing you like this, broken and terrified, was something else entirely.

Damian’s first instinct was to say, "I thought I lost you," but he bit back the words, instead holding you close, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks gently. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the city's noise. "I'm sorry."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You were not the same after that night. Trauma clung to you with every thought. What happened in that lab left you scarred, destroying your sense of safety.

The last time Damian had seen you, he was still in his Robin suit. You’d been shaking, eyes glassy with the aftereffects of the fear toxin, but you insisted on going home to your dorm. Damian’s instincts screamed at him to take you somewhere safe, to keep you in his apartment where he could protect you, but he complied with your needs.

And as much as it killed him, he had to let you go.

What stung worse was the sight that awaited him at your dorm. Nikolas was already there, pacing anxiously by the entrance, his hair still wet from his swim meet. The moment he saw you, he rushed over, pulling you into his arms as though you were fragile enough to break. Damian’s fists clenched as he watched Nikolas cradle your face in his hands, checking you over with concern.

The sight of Nick’s resting possessively staying on the small of your back as he led you up the stairs twisted something deep inside Damian, but he pushed it down. He had no right to feel that way - not after he had pushed you away first.

You didn’t show up to physics the next day. Or the day after. A week passed, and still nothing.

He wanted to reach out - every part of him screamed to check on you - but that wasn't his job anymore.

Then, one day, his phone buzzed.

Nikolas Hill: Damian, hey. It's Nick Hill.

Nikolas Hill:Just thought you should know, y/n broke up with me. Got me flowers and chocolates. It was... pretty sweet, actually 😅. It's the nicest way I've ever been dumped for sure.

Nikolas Hill: Anyway, I’ve seen the way you look at her, man. You should go for it. Really.

Nikolas Hill: And you might wanna check on her... she dropped out of Kace's research project. Not answering anyone’s calls or messages. We’re worried.

Damian stared at the message, his stomach tightening. You dropped the project? And now you weren’t talking to anyone?

He didn’t wait. The next day, he was at your parents’ house, knocking on the door. A middle-aged woman half his size answered, her eyes widening as she took took him in - her gaze flickering between him and the sleek, black Camaro parked outside.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Damian... Wayne." He flashed her the best smile he could summon, as his gaze flickered between her and the home behind her, searching for you.

Her eyes widened further. "Wayne, as in...?"

"Yes, Bruce Wayne’s son."

"Oh my!" She nodded, her eyes still studying him. "How can I help you?"

"I’m a friend of y/n’s." Damian explained. "She hasn’t been to class for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to check on her. Is she alright?"

Her surprise grew, her lips parting slightly. "She never told us she had... a friend like you." There was a slight note of disbelief, as if the idea of you being close to someone like Damian Wayne didn’t quite compute.

Damian raised a brow. Why wouldn’t you tell them about him? Were you... ashamed?

Before he could respond, she stepped aside, inviting him in. "Please, come in. I was just finishing up dinner. Would you like to join us?"

"Is your daughter home?" Damian asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an urgency behind his words he couldn’t hide.

Your mother nodded, turning around and calling you downstairs. "Honey, you have a visitor!"

Just then, you appeared at the top of the small staircase, and the breath caught in his throat. You were a ghost of the person he remembered. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, your cheeks hollow and your body frail. The t-shirt you were in drowned you as it slipped off your shoulder, revealing how think your collarbone had become. Have you been skipping your meals?

Your usual spark of curiosity was replaced with something far darker—sadness.

You froze when you saw him before forcing yourself to recover and quickly make your way down the stairs, grateful for the 5 minute shower you decided to take just before you were called down. Damian may see you in a bad state, but at least hell be smelling 'coconut sunshine' bodywash. As you came to stand in front of him, barefoot, and without your high heels, you were even shorter and had to look up at a less comfortable angle. Your hand came up to rub the opposite arm, Damian's heart ached when he saw the bruises circling your wrists from the rope that was used to restrain you.

"Hi." You spoke softly.

"Hi," he replied, voice dripping with what seemed like disappointment. "You haven’t been to class. I wanted to check on you."

"I’m alright," you lied, your voice weak and shaky. "Just... spending some time with my family."

Damian tool a quick sweep over the room, the small, homey space that felt miles apart from the opulence of Wayne Manor or his apartment. It was cozy, filled with the scent of warm food, a stark contrast to the sterile, minimalist world he was used to.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. He couldn’t stop staring at you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the one he knew.

“Do you want to go out? Get some air?" Damian asked.

"No," you answered quickly, then paused. "I mean... you can stay for dinner, if you want."

Damian tucked his hands into his pockets, fighting the growing frustration inside him. He didn’t want dinner. He wanted answers. “I was hoping for some privacy.”

You eyed him warily, a look of distrust flashing across your face, and it hit him like an insult. You didn’t trust him anymore? You ungrateful brat. If you only knew who was under the mask that day you were rescued. It enraged him, though he didn’t show it.

“Nikolas told me you broke up with him,” Damian said, lowering his voice. “And dropped Kace’s project.”

You shrugged weakly, your shirt dropping lower down your shoulder, which you didnt notice as you avoided his gaze. "Yeah. I did."

Damian’s arms itched to touch your bare skin. He took in a deep breath. "You’re also about to lose your scholarship," he pressed, his tone more insistent now.

Your brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

“It’s a research scholarship. They won’t keep paying you if you’re not involved in research.”

There was a flicker in your eyes. Either anger, maybe annoyance. But it wasn’t indifference. And that’s all Damian needed. You were still there under this facade. He wasn’t going to leave. Not without you.

"Damian, thank you for visiting. But right nows not a good time." Before you could open the front door for him, his hand shot out, stopping it in its tracks.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Your mother invited me for dinner, and I accepted.”

"Damian - " you started, but your mother’s voice interrupted.

"That’s wonderful!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the tension. "I was just finishing up the potatoes."

The scent of dinner filled the air, but Damian couldn’t focus on anything except you. You were trying to slip away, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

After dinner, when your parents went to bed, Damian asked you again to walk with him. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“I’ve tried,” you confessed. “I can’t get past the door. Every time I do, I... panic. I shut down."

The vulnerability in your voice was enough to shatter whatever resolve he had left. You were hurting, deeply, and it killed him to see it.

He stepped closer, his voice restrained. “I'll help you.”

But you just shook your head, pulling away. "I'm tired."

“It’s late,” Damian agreed, his voice soft but commanding. “You should go to sleep.” He nodded toward the stairs.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. "Thats not what I meant. I dont what to sleep."

But your body betrayed you, and before you could say anything else, you yawned. A small, defeated sound that you tried to hide but failed miserably.

Damian grinned, raising a brow as he looked down at you. “You sure about that?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. "I... I can't go to sleep," you admitted quietly, the words trembling on your lips. "The nightmare comes back when I do."

Damian sighed, his expression softening, though the fire in his eyes never wavered. He understood - he had his own problem with nightmares, demons that lurked in the dark corners of his mind. “Try again now,” he said gently, leading you to your livingroom couch. “I’ll wake you up if it happens.”

You shook your head, the fear bubbling up inside you. But his unyielding gaze stopped you.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something raw, “you need to rest. I can’t stand seeing you this tired anymore.”

His words hung in the air, the concern behind them tightening something in your chest. You hesitated, searching his face for reassurance. "You'll wake me up?"

“Yes.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue with him. Not when his eyes held so much insistence. Slowly, you lay down on the couch, your head sinking into the cushion. The moment your eyes closed, sleep washed over you.

But it didn’t last long.

Within minutes, you were tossing and turning, whimpering softly as the nightmares clawed their way back into your mind. Damian watched as you struggled even in your sleep. Then, gently, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You felt so small in his arms as your back came to rest against his chest, his lips brushing your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, “Youre okay, your alright.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and panicked as you gasped for breath. You looked around frantically before your gaze landed on Damian. “Damian, my parents - they’re - ”

“Upstairs, sleeping,” he said, his voice firm. “They’re okay.”

You blinked, your eyes darting toward the stairs as if you needed the reassurance for yourself. You made to get up to go check on them, but his grip stopped you, pulling you back against him.

“Yes.” Damian spoke quietly but with intent. “I’m right here. Nothing will happen to either of you."

You nodded slowly, the tension draining from your body as you rested your head against him. The warmth of his presence was enough to lull you back into sleep, though it didn’t last. The nightmare came back, and so did Damian’s voice, pulling you out of it every time.

It happened a few more times throughout the night. Each time, you would whimper, trapped in your dreams, and he would wake you, then hold you until you fell asleep again. Halfway through the night you began clinging to him, your arms snaking around him to hold him closer, sensing the safety he provided even in your sleep.

Not minding one bit, he could still see the toll it was taking on you, the way you couldn’t even get through one night without being haunted by what Scarecrow had done. It made his blood boil. It fueled a dark, vengeful fire that burned hotter with each of your nightmares.

He swore to himself, as he watched you sleep restlessly, that he would make Scarecrow pay for this - for the pain, the fear, and the nightmares that took you from him.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

On his third night of patroll, Robin cornered the man in the Scarecrow mask, ripping it from his face with such force the strap snapped. The man trembled, backing into the alley wall, his eyes wide in fear.

"I'm not him! Please!" The man’s hands shot up in surrender, sweat pouring down his face as he eyed the rest of his team, who were knocked unconscious. He hoped.

"Where is he?" Damian’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I-I don’t know!" the man stammered. "I swear! A different one of us is made to wear that thing every night in case you show up!"

Robin’s jaw tightened. His eyes were cold and merciless. He didn't care if this man knew or not. He wanted an outlet, something to absorb the endless rage boiling in his chest. He sighed, cracking his knuckles slowly, deliberately, like a predator preparing for the kill. "Then you'll have to do."

The thug whimpered. "No, no, no-"

The Red Hood arrived on the rooftop, surveying the scene below. His eyes narrowed as he saw Robin beating the life out of the cowering henchman. The tension in his youngest brother's posture was unmistakable. Jason eyed the rest of the henchman team, laid out and bleeding in different spots on the ground.

"Uh, I’m gonna need backup here," Jason said into his comm.

"Why? Too much for you to handle?" came Dick’s teasing voice over the line.

"Nah, but someone’s gotta protect these poor bastards from Robin."

There was a pause. Then Bruce spoke up. "...on my way."

Damian couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his skull, his vision narrowing to the terrified man in front of him.

"Robin!"

The first punch landed hard in the guy’s gut, causing him to double over, gasping for air. Then the fists came, rapid and unrelenting, from left to right. Each blow was calculated - not enough to kill, but enough to inflict the kind of pain that lingers, that leaves a mark deep under the skin.

The man’s blood splattered against the wall, his groans turning to pitiful whimpers as he weakly tried to shield himself. But Damian was relentless, his fury a tidal wave, drowning out any sense of restraint. This was for you. The helplessness he felt when he couldn’t save you, the guilt for letting you go, for not being there when you needed him most. Every punch was a punishment, a way to exorcize his own demons.

"Robin!"

By the time he stopped, the henchman was barely conscious, slumped against the wall, gasping for breath through cracked ribs and bloodied lips. Robin stood over him, panting, his chest heaving. His hands, covered in the man's blood, twitched. He wanted to keep going. Needed to keep going.

"FUCK!" Robin roared, the sound reverberating off the brick walls.

"ROBIN!" He was grabbed by a pair of strong arms, slamming him against the wall. "Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Jason's voice chastised him behind his mask.

"Back off!" Damian shoved Jason hard, his eyes wild, untamed.

"How about fuck no?" Jason growled, pressing his forearm against Damian’s throat, forcing him to stay still. Over the years, Damian grew taller than Tim, matching Dick in height, but Jason still had maybe an inch on him. The elder stuggled to hold his brother back. "I need you to calm the hell down!"

Before Damian could retaliate, Batman arrived, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What the hell happened?"

Jason shot a look over his shoulder. "Your kid happened."

Batman’s eyes fell on the battered man, then on Damian, still shaking with fury, fists clenched, ready for more. "Damian," Bruce said quietly.

"Its what he deserves." Damian’s voice was low, venomous, each word dripping with barely contained rage. "He hurt her. He broke her."

Batman’s expression shifted as he understood. You. The girl who Damian was bringing home from school. The one who’d been ripped apart by what happened to her.

"And how is killing this nobody helping her?" Bruce asked, his voice steady but firm.

Damian’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "It's not." His eyes glinted with a dark amusement as he stared into his father’s unflinching gaze. "But it sure as hell makes me feel better."

Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew this wasn’t about justice. This was about catharsis. Damian was unraveling, and if Bruce didn’t stop it now, there’d be no pulling him back. "You’re off patrol," Batman ordered, stepping toward him.

Damian sneered, shoving him back. "Like hell."

"It’s not up for debate."

Damian’s glare intensified. "I’m not stopping until he’s dead. I’ll bury him - "

"Robin." Batman’s voice was calm, controlled. "You’re going home."

Before Damian could react, he felt a sudden sharp pinch on the side of his neck. He staggered, his vision blurring as his hand flew to the dart embedded in his skin. "Wha - " His legs gave out beneath him, and darkness closed in before he could reach for the antidote.

Batman caught him as he slumped forward, unconscious. "Get him home," Bruce said to Jason, his voice heavy with regret. "Ill take care of this mess."

Jason nodded. "You know he's not gonna forgive you for that."

Bruce glanced at Damian’s unconscious form. "I know."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian woke up groggy, his vision blurry as he blinked against the harsh lights of the Batcave. His arms were strapped down to something cold and unyielding. "Damn it. Let me go!" His voice was a snarl, filled with rage and frustration.

"Negative," Bruce's calm, gravelly voice responded. He approached from the shadows, no longer in his suit but in a sweater and jeans, the cowl replaced by the face of a father. "You killed someone tonight. Did you know that?"

Damian gritted his teeth, pulling against his restraints in fury. "Who gives a shit?" He thrashed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Let me go, now! She's alone - "

"She's fine," Bruce interrupted firmly. "Oracle is monitoring."

Before Damian could spit back another response, the Batcave’s voice system activated with Oracle’s voice. "I have visual on her right now. She's at home, watching TV with her family. Safe."

Damian's chest heaved, but the confirmation did little to ease the burning tension in his veins. He didn’t care that she was safe. He needed to be there with you. Protect you.

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Damian glared at Bruce, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're too worked up to be set free," Bruce said, his tone unwavering. "I don't want you making decisions you’ll inevitably regret."

"I won't regret jack shit!" Damian roared. "Scarecrow's overdue for a visit to hell!"

"'Overdue for a visit to hell,'" Jason's voice echoed from somewhere in the batcave, but Damian couldn't see him. "Goddamn, this kid's more dramatic than you, bats." Jasons chuckle echoed alongside his footsteps as he entered the batcave.

"Thank you, Jason." Bruce said sarcastically.

"Youre welcome."

"Damian," Bruce's tone was deadly serious. "I don't think you heard me clearly. You are a murderer."

Damian's jaw clenched before he spat, "Bruce, do you even understand what 'League of Assassins' means? I've been a murderer. Since I was ten." His voice cracked slightly, the anger mingling with something deeper - something broken.

The tired lines of his fathers face grew more pronounced. "And when I took you in, I made both you and myself a promise to end that cycle." His voice was softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, his presence towering over Damian, not as Batman, but as a father. "You were a child, Damian. You didn’t know any better. But you do now. You don’t get to decide the outcome of human lives. When you do, you become the very thing we fight against. The very thing she fears."

Those words landed hard, and Damian stopped struggling.

The very thing she fears.

He pictured your face, pale with terror, your haunted eyes. Damian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "Fuck."

He hated it. Hated that the old man was right. His whole life had been about violence, about using pain to solve problems.

He glanced up at Bruce, anger creeping out of his voice. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce’s expression softened, the hard edge of Batman fading away as his fatherly concern surfaced. He sighed, his own guilt simmering beneath the surface. "Be there for her. That will be enough."

Damian stared up at him, resisting the urge to punch him for that unhelpful advicr. He didn’t know how to be that. How to be anything but the weapon he was trained to be.

"I don’t... want her to fear me," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible. At least he didn't think he did.

Bruce reached out, his hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "You can't solve this one as Robin. Nor the League’s heir. Just Damian."

For a moment, Damian closed his eyes, letting his father’s words sink in. His breath slowed, and the fury that had been burning inside of him all night began to fade into something else - epiphany. He had to fix you himself. He had no qualm playing therapist, whether you wanted him to or not.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Bruce’s gaze, still defiant but quieter now. "I know what I have to do."

"You do," Bruce said with a firm nod.

Damian had a new goal in his mind now, bringing you back. His jaw was tight, but his breathing was steady now. "Untie me," he said quietly. "I’m calm."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and then he slowly unstrapped his son’s hands. Damian sat up, rubbing his wrists, though his mind was far away - thinking of you and the promises he had made to himself.

"Not so fast." Bruce spoke up. "You're still in trouble. Tomorrow, you will bring in... 10 juvenile delinquents into the station -" Bruce knew Damian especially hated dealing with kids - he had to hold back with them - "to make up for the shithead you killed tonight. And you'll do two hundred push-ups now."

Damian scoffed at the easy challenge. "Fine,"

"Jason, sit on his back."

"What?!" Damian spat out in protest as Jason rolled his head back in laughter.

The next morning, Damian barely made his way to your doorstep, limping over sore limbs. He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

[lovelytsunoda]

the scaredy cat support group | logan sargeant

summary: much to her dismay, y/n's friends have dragged her to see the scariest film of the season. luckily for her, the blond sitting next to her in a darkened cinema seems to be just as petrified as she is

pairing: logan sargeant x female! reader

warnings: scary movies & scaredy cats, implications of fear and gore, logan being a sweetie.

"this is such a bad idea."

the theater was packed, groups of people passing by them to get into the auditorium, eager to see the latest blood-soaked halloween killfest on screens. y/n, however, just couldn't get her feet to move. her friends stood just in front of her, worried looks on their faces as they looked back at her.

y/n loved halloween, make no mistake. it was her favourite holiday by leaps and bounds. she loved micheal meyers and ghostface and even freddy krueger.

but she absolutely hated being scared. she was a sensitive soul, and that was why she preferred older horror movies that were limited on the level of blood and guts.

"are you sure you don't want to sit this one out? we told you you didn't have to come." her friend said gently.

"no, no. i came here to spend time with you guys because i love you. and no scary movie is going to keep me from doing that."

she was reassured by the group of college guys that came in after her, with an athletic looking blond hanging back to stare at the film poster with a similar queasy look to the one that she was sporting.

"alright, let's get this over with. but if i barf up my popcorn, it's on you guys!"

they filed into the dark theatre, previews already beginning to play out on the big screen in front of them. their group of five took up most of the row, which, being in a small cinema, only held ten seats.

she sat in the middle, next to gloriously empty seat as she tried to steel herself for what was to come, with reminders to herself that it was all made from special effects, and she could walk out of that theater and into the real world whenever she wanted.

"is this seat taken?"

she look up and towards the soft speaker, who was using his phone flashlight to try and find his ticketed seat. it was the same blonde who had stopped to stare at the poster outside, and he looked a little pale in the face as he sat down next to her.

"not a fan of being scared?" she whispered, offering him some popcorn. "me neither."

"oh good. that means i'm not going to be the only one shaking like a baby." he laughed. "god, i would much rather have gone to see fucking joker or something."

"i wasn't given an option. they just told me that this is what was happening and i was invited if i wanted to. i'm y/n."

"logan."

"will you two be quiet?" the man behind them hissed. "some of us are trying to watch a movie.

logan shrugged, typing something on his phone before showing her the screen.

a movie that hasn't even started yet? i didn't realize that the advertisement for jackass was so interesting

"and turn your damn brightness down!"

y/n stifled a laugh as she watched logan pretend to give the guy the middle finger before slipping his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. the lights in the theater dimmed even further, the feature presentation beginning to unfold on screen.

to her credit, she lasted about half an hour before she jumped, knocking over her bag of popcorn and spilling some slippery buttery kernels into Logan’s lap. she was mortified, but the massage logan typed out on his phone reassured her that everything was fine.

it’s all good, squeeze my hand if u get 2 scared

no points for grammar, but five for being a sweetie.

naturally, it was logan who reached for her hand first, during a particularly gory on screen kill that had y/n squeezing her eyes shut and physically turning away from the screen while logan clutched her cold hand in his.

despite herself, she found Logan’s touch to be comforting. what did that say about her that a little scary movie had her seeking out comfort from strangers? (don’t tell her mother that or she would start singing the jamie walters song and everyone would be miserable) for a minute, she almost forgot that she’d come with a group of friends and was only reminded of that fact when one of them messaged her.

getting cozy over there? see, horror flicks are a great place to pick up guys! just make sure his favourite isn’t american psycho.

she giggled, looking over at her friend, who flashed her a thumbs up before turning back to the screen. that scene had long since passed, but logan continued to hold her hand, and she could feel his muscles tense as a scare drew nearer and nearer on the big screen.

she squeezed his hand reassuringly, only to be clutching it in terror moments later, one hand clapped over her mouth to stifle a scream. Logan reached over her body, almost as if he was gallantly and protectively trying to shield her body with his own.

she was going to fall in love with him at this rate if she wasn’t careful.

the movie finished, winding down in a way that much much calmer, if not eerie compared to what they had seen throughout the course of the film. she was relieved to see the end credits roll, although displeased at the idea of leaving logan behind.

she followed her friends out of the cinema, dropping her empty popcorn container in the trash as she went.

"y/n!" a voice called after her.

she paused, turning around to see logan standing just near the door. she glanced back at her friends, smiling when she saw their excited faces, gesturing wildly towards logan.

she walked up to the blonde, hands tucked nervously in the pockets of her flannel coat.

"hey," she started, rocking back and forth on her heels

"hey." logan grinned, scratching at the beck of his neck. "so, i think you're really cute." just out of her range of vision, she could see logan's friends standing behind him, sticking their thumbs up and whistling in encouragement. "and i was wondering if you wanted to go and get a coffee with me?"

she beamed, looking back to her friends for approval, one last time.

"i would love to. after all, you were my protector in there."

logan smiled. "is now okay with you? there's a little place in the plaza just across the way."

"sounds perfect."

[sciderman]

If you were directing and writing one SpideyPool movie, with all creative freedom you desire, what kind of movie will you make?.

A buddy action movie?, a romance, pure action, animation, live action, the muppets being protagonist? what would you want your perfect movie to be?

okay... hoh. dang. okay. i think...

i think i'd actually... i think it would be a spider-man movie that introduces deadpool as peter's foil / villain - maybe someone's hired deadpool to expose peter's identity or, i don't know, even kill him (but obviously deadpool doesn't fully expect to see it through and kind of just took the job because he thought it would be fun and he's a big fan.) spider-man doesn't know what to make of it - deadpool is friendly and flirty but uh. wants to kill him? i think maybe inevitably at the end of it, they both team-up to take down whoever it is that hired deadpool. very standard spideypool fair. enemies to allies. very textbook.

i think everyone wants to see spider-man and deadpool fight. i think everyone wants to see how spider-man and deadpool would go about in a battle-of-wits - i think everyone would want to see a cat-and-mouse game between them, and i think it's something we didn't really get to see from wade in the movies yet - wade being a bit of an insane tactician, and actually a - freaking brilliant and terrifying villain, just with how unpredictable his moves are. and i think he'd be such a brilliant foil in a spider-man movie because him and spider-man are so similar - deadpool basically spider-man but unhinged. and spider-man would absolutely despise this fact. he'd hate that the news has mistaken the two or thinks that they're the same on account of the similar costumes - spider-man is absolutely of the impression deadpool is some stupid wannabe fanboy who's inadvertently wrecking his name. until spider-man gets to know deadpool a little better - maybe does his independent research - goes underground - maybe rebrands briefly, gets a new, grimier costume to hide in and starts navigating mercenary networks to find out more about deadpool. puts on the tough guy act so nobody suspects it's our funny little red and blue guy who's hanging out with all the mercenaries. bet he even puts on a batman voice. yeah. i think i'd love to see a spider-man movie that's wholly street-level - no big CGI villains, but peter is brushing shoulders with real terrifying, cold-blooded killers.

small potato stakes, too. the stakes are peter's life or his identity. no greater-universe nonsense, no world-ending stakes. just peter's safety and security and to a lesser degree his reputation (if he gets found out) - maybe deadpool finds him while he's undercover - puts peter in a situation where he has to expose himself - probably a morally questionable situation, where peter has to make a kill but can't - and deadpool has him cornered again. just... augh. a cat-and-mouse spider-man and deadpool movie would be so, so fun. and it would be SOOO fun so see wade as a villain. he was intended to be a villain. not a great villain, by any means - but a villain, nonetheless. it would just be so good to see wade play the role of the villain. yeah. he has his grand change-of-heart by the end and spider-man and deadpool part ways with a complicated acquaintanceship. and wade probably walks away with a feeling that he can be more.

[smuthospital]

⭐️Degrees of lewdly: Eden⭐️

Premise: You're a spooky place youtube explorer, and you get lost in a big scary forest! Eden voorhees lol. Reader is fem. Enjoy!

Art by Minagami

Re-upload because tumblr took it down last time.

Content Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, tummy bulge, blood, Eden is Jason, Voorhees

Miners DNI

You've never really gone hiking before and it's proven itself to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought it would be. You like to explore places you've never been, spooky places. more for the thrill. you started filming it and posting your videos on youtube. You usually take some friends along, but all of your friends decided to be little babies this time since the place you're exploring is extra creepy this time. It's a large forest 20 miles away from your city. You borrowed your mom's car to get here. you always tell them you're at a friend's house because they'd kill you if they ever found out you're putting yourself in possibly harmful situations. This forest is known for creepy sightings, disappearances, ghosts, and lots of other things your viewers would love to watch. You've been to abandoned hospitals, cemeteries, tunnels, all that good stuff. You don't think you'll actually see anything, but you brought a can of pepper spray just in case.

The wind howls, making the trees dance above you. The shapes that were once branches in the day have turned into long gangly fingers that desperately reach for you and the bushes now house entities with red eyes and fangs that you imagine want to tear you to pieces! "Wow, guys. This might just be the scariest one yet, haha. There's probably some sort of scp in here with me haha!" You try to keep yourself company by talking to your soon-to-be viewers when you post this, but it's really just to keep you calm.

"I'm a bit lost. The trail kinda disappeared somewhere around here, I think. there's just so much long grass and it's more of a footpath than an actual trail." you complain as you try to spot any familiar landmarks. It's almost impossible. It might be easier in the day for sure, but the night masks everything. You step over decayed logs and large roots, feeling worry set in. What if you're really lost!? Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop when you hear a strange sound not too far from where you're standing. Your blood freezes as you feel a cold sweat coming on. Maybe...maybe it's a person? And maybe they can help you?..or..a monster!? No, (Y/n), this is no time to be silly! That could be a person willing to help you before you get yourself completely lost!

Little did you know you were already a mile deep, walking in the wrong direction.

“I heard a sound. It could be someone who could help me get back on track.” You whisper. You turn off your video camera's flash light and carefully make your way to where you heard the sound, being careful not to step on anything that could alert whatever it is of your presence. You don’t want to startle it, just in case it's an animal willing to protect its territory from invaders like yourself. The sound came from below you. There's a rocky slope leading down to a river. You get down on your knees and peer between the long grass. You can't make out much in the dim moonlight... until you spot a giant of a man dragging a sack through the shallow water. His size alone sends shivers down your spine. Even from where you're crouching, you could tell he would dwarf you the way a cat would to a mouse. You examine him a bit more.The sack is stained in a dark colour that is seeping through the fabric and into the water. You don't dare move a muscle or even breathe. You can't believe your eyes. This can't be real. Are you in a horror movie?

You make sure he disappears behind the tree line with the mysterious sack before letting out a breath. You didn't want to accidentally alert him of your presence in any shape or form. He was probably just a hunter. Yeah, he could have helped you, but he also could have added you to the wet sack and you were not risking that.

You stand up and turn around, ready to get as far away from here as possible, only to bump your nose into a tree. The collision causes you to drop your camera. That's strange. You don't remember walking around a tree to look over the cliff. You rub your nose in annoyance. Wait a minute... This tree didn't have rough bark like the rest of them...Your brain blanks out. You've been in denial this entire time, your brain working extra hard to rationalize what's happening. Before you is a large torso. You can't even see their shoulders from how close you're standing, just a wide, firm chest. You crane your neck up and it takes you a good three seconds before your brain registers that you're looking at the man from before..and he's wearing a mask!

He looks down at you with a focused gaze. You let out a short scream and try to run away, but being within arm's reach of the giant makes it too easy for him to simply reach out and grab the back of your top. He lifts you off your feet with one arm and brings you to his eye level. He cocks his head to the side, observing you slowly. He looks down at the camera you dropped and places his large boot on it, pressing down and crushing it. You start to hyperventilate. He's gonna chop you up and wear your skin, he's gonna keep you in a dark hole and shout "It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again!" You thrash in his iron grip, pushing at his large hand and sobbing untellable pleas for mercy, but your begging falls on deaf ears. "I-I'm sorry. I-I'll leave, I promise! Please let me go! I-I didn't mean to bother you, I'm sorry!" You cry. Your little struggle seems to have made your shirt ride up a bit, showcasing your supple flesh to his thirsty eyes. His eyes laser focus on your bare skin.

To your confusion, his hand reaches to caress your skin, feeling the smooth texture before slowly moving up. You wiggle more, scared of where this is going. His hand soon finds your breast and cups it before giving it a squeeze. He shudders. His breathing becomes heavier as he continues to mess with your body, his thumb rolling over your nipple. All you can do is whimper and wiggle in his hold. his hand begins sliding down and you scream. You suddenly remember you brought a can of pepper spray, whipping it out of your back pocket and pointing it at his face. Then as you were about to press down and unleash the fire juice, it was gone. In his hand that was previously molesting you lies the remains of your poor pepper spray, crushed and bubbling pathetically. He was so fast you hadn't even realized he snatched it. You just stare at him in horror. To your surprise, he's not even mad, too preoccupied with the need to explore your privates. You hold his wrist and look into his eyes. He looks back into yours as if telling you to stop. You hesitantly let go, and he nods as if to tell you that you've made the right decision. His hand cups your pussy through your jeans, pressing in a bit at the entrance. He seems eager.

He lifts you higher and uncomfortably sets you on his shoulder, his hand on your ass to keep you in place. You don't even bother struggling. You'll wait for an opportunity. If this man wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You don't want to provoke him. From your spot on his shoulder, You notice that he's got a hunting rifle strapped to his back along with a machete. He has an assortment of things attached to his hips among them being a hunting knife and bullet pocket. You shiver. One more off-putting thing that's just about forcing bile up your throat is that he's also covered in a dark wet liquid. You haven't noticed till now, but you haven't been breathing so his smell has now come to your attention. He smells strongly of iron. To that, you're not very surprised.

He starts marching down the hill you were previously watching him from. You have no idea how you saw him disappear through the treeline and he still managed to sneak up on you. He picks up the large stained sack where he left it in favor of locating his little spying mouse. It smells awful, the meaty smell assaulting your senses every second. It's been 15 minutes and an opportunity to escape has not shown itself. This is it. This is how you die. Your body will never be found. Maybe in a few years in a shallow grave by some hiker if you're lucky. This inhuman mass of muscle is going to cut you up and eat you. Maybe even skip cutting you up. He could probably eat you whole as pre-workout. He lifts his leg to step over a large log, his grip on your ass slightly loosening just enough for you to catch him off guard and slip off his shoulder. You grunt as you fall into the dirt and leaves behind him. You scramble up before the giant can scoop you up. You run in a random direction. You just needed to get away from him, getting out of the forest was a problem for later. You didn't even think about how fast he'd be. How could someone be so big and fast!? He took off after you and suddenly, he was on your ass. You've never felt such a primal fear as he chased you like a hungry animal.

A large hand grabs your shoulder and rips you backwards. You fall on your back and stare up at the man now on his knees in front of you, his body completely casting a shadow before yours. He gets down on his hands, caging you too the ground, his body inches above yours. You stare into the holes of his mask and into his rabid eyes. He leans in by your neck. You stop breathing once again, you think your heart stopped. You feel something large and hard pressing roughly into your crotch. You hear him take a deep breath and smell you..."Smells nice." His voice is deep and rough, but it sounds like he rarely uses it. You scream and begin to cry again, not being able to take it anymore. You fight him with all your might. He grabs your wrists with one hand. You hear him chuckle a bit before his hand comes up to cup your check. He suddenly squeezes it and twists your face around to get a better look at your features. He grinds his hips against yours, teasing you of what's to come. He roughly releases your face, before standing to his full height and dragging you up with him. He tosses you back over his shoulder, this time with an almost bone-crushing grip. “Name.” His tone is commanding. When you fail to answer right away, his fingers press into the area on your crotch. Threatening to rip right through. “(Y/n)! My name is (Y/n)!” He hums in response.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as he walks back over to where he left his murder mystery sack. He navigates through the forest as he knows it like the back of his hand until he comes upon a clearing where his home stands. A lonely wooden cabin. He drops the gooey meat bag on the ground. You cringe at the wet sound it makes on impact. You peer over at the sack to see a human hand flop out. Before you could react, he slams his hand over your mouth painfully. "Shut up." He waits for you to nod before removing his hand. He opens his front door and steps inside. It smells musty, like old wood and man smell. Not bad, but not amazing either. He walks up his stairs and sets you on a very large bed. You take a deep breath in, your stomach sore from being jabbed by his shoulder for the entirety of the long walk.

He doesn't let you get comfortable though. His hands are on you in an instant, grabbing your clothes and ripping them to shreds like tissue paper, you're naked before you could even hold any of your clothes together. Hungry eyes leer over you through his mask. You feel his hot breath fan you through the bottom of his mask. "S-stop it, please! Don't hurt me!" You beg. As if to mock your plea, his rough hand grips your plush thigh a little too close to your cunt and squeezes it tightly before shoving it against your chest, making room for himself between them.

He releases you for a moment, only to unzip his uncomfortably tight pants. You shut your eyes and look away, only to feel the soul-crushing weight of his cock slam against your lower stomach. You writhe underneath him, small sobs and hiccups coming from your mouth every few seconds. He pauses for a moment but ultimately decides to continue. You peer up between your wet palms and see him rubbing the tree trunk between his thighs while looking down at your pathetic form.

"W-wait! I-I'm not rea-" He grabs your thighs and forces you closer to him and lines his cock up with your entrance, he slides it up and down your folds, causing you to shudder. He doesn't care if you're ready or not. You shut your eyes as he presses forth. You scream in pain. It won't go in. You're too tight, he's too big and you're dry. The tip can't even get through. You whimper in pain. It burns. You need moisture. He lifts his mask a bit and you get a peek of his jaw. It's noticeably sharp and covered in stubble. You feel his saliva plap against your poor dry cunt before he puts his mask back into place. He tries to enter you again. You yelp. He gets a bit through before he can't anymore. He sighs. He was trying to be gentle. He didn't want to break you so quickly...

He grips your thighs tightly. You feel his nails dig in. You barely have time to register the pain before you feel like you're being ripped in two. He's forcing his way in. You immediately let out a scream and begin spazzing. He just continues until he reaches his base, more than snug against your insides. Drool leaks past the corner of your lip as you stare off into space. He breathes heavily and stares at the bulge he created in your lower stomach. He brushes his hand over it and watches as you whimper and twitch. He pulls his hips back and watches it disappear before ramming himself in again and seeing it jab through your insides. He chuckles.

You lay there, unable to do anything but feel what he's doing to you. You lift your arm and place it on his lower stomach, hoping to stop him that way. You feel his rock-hard abs through his shirt and push. "You're...adorable...fuck.. you're tight." He groans before he slams himself deep inside and you clench around him. He hisses and struggles to pull out halfway, your insides trying to pull him back in. He slams in again and presses himself as deeply as he can, firmly hugging your cervix with his cock. Your eyes cross as he thrusts in and out, keeping a proper pace. Moans spill from your lips along with jumbled-up words he can't make out, all of which sound like music to his ears.

He leans over you, forcing himself snugly against you again, his mask right next to your cheek. He groans as he feels you twitch around him. "Feel..so good... was worried you'd rip... you're only bleeding a little." You can hear the smug grin in his tone.

It feels so good. You're so ashamed, feeling good when you're being raped by a maniac. You clench your tear-filled eyes as he pounds into your aching cunt. The knot in your lower stomach bursts as you cum. He moans as you tighten around him. He stills for a second, just enjoying how you feel before he pounds into you like a feral beast. You're surprised your pelvis is holding up. He grips your waist tight and grunts as he empties his balls deep inside you. You can almost feel yourself getting pregnant. You feel too full. Your stomach bloats with cum. You feel hot and fuzzy. Your pussy is so very sore and your legs are numb. He pants above you. "I've been thinking of getting myself a little wife like you." He says as he slowly pulls his still throbbing cock out with a wet 'pop'. "You're a pretty little thing and you take my cock well. Be grateful I'm letting you live as my cock sleeve." He stands up, towering over your crumpled body once again. "My name is Eden. Your duties from now on are cooking, cleaning, mending my clothes and taking my seed. Do not make me repeat these orders. Object and I won't hesitate to remind you of your place. I was gentle this time." His giant cock is still dripping your juices. You can't stop looking at it. Ge takes notice and climbs over you before grabbing your head and forcing you close to his groin. "I see you love cock. Lick it clean then like a good wife. go on."

You look up at him and hesitate a bit too long. You see anger flash in his eyes and you quickly envelop his tip in your mouth. He groans as you lick your mixed juices off, going as deep as you can without choking. He moans and grabs the back of your head. He stares down at you with such intensity that you can feel him burning holes into you. You suddenly feel your throat being invaded and your nose pressing into his pubic hair, nose pressing into his crotch. He moves you back and forth, face fucking you. You struggle to breathe properly through your nose. You let out muffled whimpers and cries, sending vibrations through his cock. He grunts in pleasure before you feel a load of hot thick liquid being shot into your mouth and down your throat. You're so tired. He slowly pulls his cock back and laughs at your exhausted state. Your head flops back onto the bed, your jaw and lips so incredibly sore and raw feeling. "Good girl." He says before your sight fades to black. You explored a bit too much.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

After watching a romcom with Tommy (who mentions offhand that nobody has ever romanced him like that), Buck activates his inner romantic (ie Season1Boyfriend!Buck) with one mission in mind: to completely and utterly sweep Tommy off his feet.

Tommy is this cool, confident and unflappable guy 24/7, and Buck has this need to see him blush.

Flowers, a candlelit meal, slowdancing in the moonlight. The whole shebang, and Tommy melts.

Im so sorry that this took an absolute age to get to! Lots of stuff going on and illness blah blah blah ANYWAY! Here it is, I hope you like it.

As Always if you have a bucktommy or saltommy prompt send to my ask box. Smut, fluff, whump.. whatever you want

🩶

********

RATING: T

TW: 1 use of the f-slur

WORDS: 2,432

********

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige - he always was - but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay - insisted - that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so fucking perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before Tommy had kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own.

“Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s.. we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until like 10 minutes ago so I don’t have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you.

You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned - minus is own spontaneous proposal - and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part - Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s kinda difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears fell from his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so.. it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring. Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently placed back an errant curl that had fallen onto Bucks forehead and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[lvrcpid]

pyramids. - F.S

based on : pyramids by frank ocean.

pairing : farleigh start x nb!reader

warnings : drug usage. swearing. slight ooc farleigh. sexual references. kinda short but i’ll be making a part 2.

notes : oh i am SO BACK. 😛 also i love this movie sm.

you always knew you’d end up in college. just at least not at oxford. you always read about the school over the years and it seemed too prim and proper for your liking. a true bore of you will. so when you found yourself in the middle of the campus, hearing the commotion of the students around you, you thought to yourself. “what the fuck did i get myself into?”

your parents were well off, upper middle class even. so when you received a letter inviting you to attend oxford, your family forced you to apply and attend the university. you finally said your goodbyes and finally unpacked. the room had a slight chill and was a bit dreary, even further confirming your suspicions. this school was like purgatory.

the days turned weeks at oxford truly changed your perspective of the entire school. the party life was insane, that’s where you were right now. a party. the music blasted in your ears as the room reeked with the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and weed from here and there. you weren’t exactly sober yourself, having a few drinks you were given by an acquaintance you made over the few weeks.

you held the beer in your hand, walking and slightly pushing people in your way. “excuse me” you mumbled less than pleased at the sight of people completely ignoring your presence. you made one final shove before someone, a boy, swung his head around, cigarette in mouth and said. “are you fucking kidding me?” you weren’t looking where you were going, more so not even paying attention to your drink. when you looked up, the stranger in front of you had beer dripping from his back. “oh shit- man i’m sorry” you said slightly embarrassed, trying to use your jacket to pat the area dry.

“stop just- stop.” you picked up on the fact the stranger was american. it wasn’t foreign to see americans at oxford, you’ve just never actually heard their accents before. “i really am sorry. i wasn’t looking where i was going.” you said, still apologetic and remorseful, still a bit because of the alcohol in your system. “oh whatever it’ll dry- hey i’ve seen you around. you’re that super quiet kid in my literature class. i’m farleigh.” he said, raising his eyebrows in a cocky way and taking a cigarette from his pack. he leaned the pack towards you, offering you one, to which you reject. you want to at least try to live to see 50.

“suit yourself.” he says, looking down at your beer. “i could kill you for messing up my shirt..but i’ll let it slide this time. so, what’s your name mystery person?” he looks down at you. the boy was freakishly tall and now that you’re getting a good look at him. you do recognize his face from your literary class. “y/n.” you said, finishing off your beer. farleigh gave you a look that rocked your world, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the depths of the night.

from that moment, you and farleigh hit it off. he was a party animal, a wild child and it made your heart race. every moment with farleigh was an adventure. you soon realized farleigh was into hard drugs. what drugs you may ask? cocaine. but that just made the ride even wilder. although the friendship was platonic, you and farleigh always found yourselves entangled in dances only lovers would dream of. sneaking away from class to make out on his bed or even sneaking touches and glances, enough to make the strongest weak in the knees. farleigh was a passionate person, it made your body jelly and your blood run ice cold, but only in secret. to him, you were his secret sin.

one night , weeks after you and farleigh came together. he decides to open up to you. about his mother, his struggles and even his home, saltburn. you were curious about this place. so curious to the point farleigh had to silence you with a kiss. it was late at night and the campus was silent, only the sounds of the wind and trees in the background. “how about this..if you want to…only if you want.-“ he said, on the spur, in the heat of the moment;

“how about you visit saltburn for the summer?”

part 2 - monster.

[saintlucretia]

Wrong Company For A Teenage Girl

Pairings: James Patrick March x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence. Death. Mentions of rape. Attempted rape. Alcohol. Smoking. Blood. Murder. Gore. The one and only James Patrick March.

Summary: Y/N is meeting Mr. March who wants her to become his protégé.

A/N: You can read this as a prequel to Melancholy Of A Sinner or as an independent work.

I wasn’t planning to kill him. It's not that I haven't thought about it though. But it still was an accident. It was his fault, not mine.

He was almost begging to be killed. I mean, I saw it in his eyes. Anyway, he should have watched his mouth. And hands. It’s not my fault that he was a jerk. You can’t harass a girl and think there would be no consequences.

So there I was, standing in the hotel room with a knife in my hands and the dead body of my brother on the floor. We weren’t blood-related though. I had never known my real parents. I never really had a family. So I guess it’s not a big deal that I killed him. The world should say ‘thank you’ because I rid it of such a bastard.

He looked pretty dead, but I decided to check his pulse in advance. I stepped closer and bent over the body. Dark blood was still flowing pulsatingly from the wound, where I stabbed him, right into the throat. It looked fascinating. He wasn’t breathing. I watched his face for a few seconds and spit on it. He died too quickly. Maybe I should have cut out his tongue while he was still alive? It would be symbolic. Or perhaps I should have chopped off his arms? It would probably satisfy me. 

I leaned closer and plunged the knife into his chest with both of my hands. I pressed it with my whole body and the knife went into his solar plexus with a squelch. There was no actual sense, I just wanted to pierce this motherfucker once again. I took a few steps away from his body. Masterpiece. 

“If you wanted to reach his heart, you should have struck a little to the right.” A deep voice behind me said, making me jump in place. I quickly turned around and saw a man, dressed like he just walked out of the black-and-white movie. 

The man smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “I am impressed.” He said as his eyes scanned my body “You handled this whole situation quite well for a little girl like you.”

I felt myself shaking a little, as I looked him up and down. Pale skin, black hair, a pencil mustache, perfectly ironed clothes. And this odd accent. He didn’t seem like a cop.

“Who are you?” I demanded, taking a step back.

“My name is James March, I own this hotel.” He smiled charmingly, stepping closer. “And can I know the name of the lady?”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to tell him my name. How the hell did he enter? He was tall, towering above me, but it wasn’t his height that made me nervous, it was his eyes. They were dark and intense, like two pools of cold black water. No, I can’t go to jail.

“It was an accident, sir, I swear.” I managed to mumble weakly glancing at the body. “I was so scared-”

“Oh, don’t act coy, I saw the whole scene. You shoved the dagger into his throat with animalistic hunger.” He was enjoying himself. I felt my body tense up at his words. It sounded like he relished in my violence like he was admiring a great work of art.

“You’re sick,” I said, more to myself than to him.

He laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed in the empty room. “Oh, darling, I don’t think you are in a situation to say that. Look at you, you are head to toe covered in blood.”

I looked down at my body. My clothes were stained with drops of red, blood made my hands sticky. 

“What do you want from me?” I asked, almost whimpering. Maybe a fake hysteria could convince him of my innocence.

He took another step closer, and I could smell his scent. It was a mix of tobacco and something else, something unfamiliar, masculine, and intoxicating. I felt dizzy.

“No need to be scared, darling,” He said in a low, soothing voice. “I want to help you.”

“Help me? Why?” I watched him intently.

“Because I appreciate great work.” He nodded toward the dead body. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, that pathetic parody of a man deserved such fate.” 

“You think it was a great work?” I asked, my voice a bit trembling. It wasn’t fear, it was shock.

“Indeed.” He chuckled softly. “Now, let’s clean the mess.” 

He whistled and in a few moments, a maid walked into the room. “Did you call me, sir?”

“Please, Ms. Evers, get rid of the body, while I am taking care of our guest,” said James, gently taking me by my shoulders and pushing me toward the door.

He led me out of the room with a firm grip. I was too stunned to protest.

I stumbled after him, my knees trembling like jelly. The hotel hallway was deserted. The sound of our footsteps echoed between the walls.

“Where are you taking me?” I croaked, finally finding my voice.

“Room, where we can discuss the whole situation. You don’t have to worry, darling, I have no intention of hurting you.” 

I wanted to believe him, he sounded convincing. I had nowhere to go anyway. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

I followed him meekly as he led me through the elegant corridors of the hotel. The silence was deafening. Well, at least they didn’t call the cops. Probably, Cortez had a reputation as a killer-hotel for a reason.

Finally, we arrived at the room and James opened the door. He ushered me inside.

“Please sit down, darling,” He said gesturing toward the armchair, as he closed the door.

The room was spacious and luxurious, with dark red walls and a large four-poster bed covered with silky black-and-silver bedding. It was filled with vintage furniture. Quiet jazz music was coming out of the record player. I sat down, feeling small and insignificant. 

James walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Eighteen,” I answered slowly, gaining confidence.

“Ah, you truly are a miracle. Such a fire in a fragile body. You are ravishing, my dear.”

I glanced at the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. My blood-stained “AC/DC” t-shirt and jean shorts made my reflection look comic in such a luxurious atmosphere. 

James smiled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Are you... uncomfortable?”

I clutched the fabric of my shorts nervously, feeling self-conscious. “I should change my clothes-”

"Don't be silly, darling. You look just fine." He purred, pulling out a cigar. 

“What is going to happen?” I asked, carefully looking around the room. I spotted a little knife on the desk. Envelope opener. Bingo. 

“I want to talk with you. It’s rare to meet such a person. You intrigue me.” He answered, giving me a charming smile. He looked like a sick pervert. Handsome and gentle, but yet.

“Can I have a glass of water?” I tried to sound pitiful.

“Of course.” James walked to a small table in the far corner of the room, turning his back to me.

I silently rose from my chair. My sneakers didn't make a sound on the terry carpet. I took a few steps and reached for the knife on a desk already turning to return to my seat. I grabbed the knife and hid it behind my back. My heart was pounding in my chest as I quickly settled back in my chair. 

James turned around, a glass of water in his hand, and walked toward me. He handed me a glass and took a seat in front of me.

He leaned back in his armchair, and took a sip of his whiskey, watching me intently. He didn't say a word, he just watched me. 

"Have you ever killed anyone before?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“No.”

"So it’s your first time. My congratulations." He chuckled, his eyes scanning me again. “And so eager to kill again, hm?”

“What-”

“Darling, I saw you taking the knife. I’m not stupid.” He smiled, taking a drag of his cigar.

I tensed, my heart rate increasing as he called me out. I gripped the envelope opener tightly in my hand, feeling a pang of panic.

"I..." I began, trying to come up with a lie. “I’m scared…”

James chuckled and took another sip of his whiskey.

"You are incredible," he said, his eyes never leaving my face. "Such talent of manipulation in a fragile little body. I think you are just the right one."

I swallowed hard, looking down. He was smarter than I expected.

“Right one?” I repeated.

James nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Yes, my dear. I have a... proposition for you."

He leaned forward in his seat, his gaze unwavering.

"You have a certain talent, darling. A talent that needs to be nurtured, not wasted. You can become a legend." He continued. “In your tiny little heart, you know, you are a killer.”

James' eyes glistened with excitement, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze. There was something dark and dangerous in how he looked at me.

"Did you enjoy it?" He asked, his voice low and almost intimate. "Did you enjoy the thrill of watching the life drain from his eyes?"

I glanced at him. His voice was hypnotizing. I nodded carefully, I didn’t want to admit it out loud. James chuckled, noticing my reaction.

"Yes, you did," he said, sipping his whiskey. "But let me ask you this, darling, do you feel like it’s not enough?"

He leaned forward again, his eyes fixing me. James smiled as if he had seen something in my gaze.

"Yes, darling," He said, his voice soft and soothing. "It's never enough, is it? The first killing gave you satisfaction for a few moments, but the adrenaline and the rush faded quickly."

He leaned back in his chair and took a deep drag on his cigar. I felt a chill run down my spine. How could he know so much? I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“How can you know that I felt that way?” I whispered.

“Because you are just like me.”  There was something in the way he said it that made me shiver. I slowly looked up, meeting his gaze.

"Like you?" I repeated, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

James chuckled.

"Yes, darling, just like me," he said, his voice low and sultry. "We both have a taste for violence and destruction."

He stood up and walked over to me, looking down at me with a dark smile. I felt intimidated by his proximity, but I didn't move. I kept my eyes firmly on his, trying not to show my nervousness. 

“I had it all once. Fortune, fame. But nothing satisfied.” He placed his hand on the back of my chair. “But I found a way to stimulate. It's rather an odd one, but… exhilarating. Murder.”

I could smell the whiskey and cigar smoke on his breath. I felt trapped, yet his words sounded intriguing.

“How many people have you killed?” I asked.

“More than you would believe, darling.” James chuckled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I began my career in early 20’s-”

“How is that possible?” I interrupted him.

“Well, dear, technically I am not alive. A ghost, if you prefer.”

I frowned.

“I was forced to end my life in 1930, due to problems with the police and since that day I am a spirit of this fine establishment.”

I was too tired to argue. But I suddenly remembered something.

“Wait…  are you saying you are The 10 Commandment killer?” 

He smiled. “I’m flattered that you heard about me.” 

Of course, it was him. That's why he seemed so odd. I read a few articles about him in high school. James Patrick March. A notorious serial killer, who lived in the Golden Age of American crime. Dubbed 'The 10 Commandment Killer' because he killed his victims on the basis of the Ten Commandments, as a form of destruction of religion. Extremely wealthy and charismatic, a true psychopath.

For some reason, he didn’t seem dangerous. I was alone in the room with the ghost of a serial killer, yet I had never felt safer in my whole life. Sign of a really shitty life.

“What exactly do you want from me?” I asked, my voice low and uncertain.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me.

 "If you heard about me, you probably heard that I unfortunately hadn’t finished my… work." He took another drag on his cigar, blowing out a cloud of smoke. The room was filled with the heavy scent of it. “And I’ve spent the whole time after my death, finding a protege.”

“You are telling me that in almost a hundred years you couldn’t find anyone better than me?” I looked up at him skeptically. 

“You remind me of myself when I was your age." He smiled. “Very feisty… Returning to your question. Of course, I had my amount of successors, but they are no longer with us. So now the place is vacant.” He chuckled.

“Are you trying to...recruit me?” I asked, feeling a mixture of confusion and curiosity. 

James puffed on his cigar, contemplating my question. He looked like a living, breathing enigma, a shade of the past. It was hard to believe that he was a ghost. But it was James Patrick March, no doubt.

“Not exactly. Think of it as a...mentorship.”

I frowned, processing his words. 

“Mentorship?” I asked.

“I offer you my unique knowledge. If you are worried about money, I can provide you with anything you might need. Food, clothes, equipment, pocket money.” He circled my chair, hands behind his back. “It would be better if you lived here, in one of the rooms, but if you insist, I can consider you living outside.”

“I am an orphan. I have a small bag of belongings and 60 bucks. Your offer sounds more than just good for me.”

James smiled with a satisfied smile.

“Good.” He walked back to his seat and settled back into it, looking at me intently. “You wouldn't survive for long out there in the cold, cruel world. You should be here, under my... protection.”

I shifted in my seat, still on edge. But his words made sense. I had no one who would even look for me. And staying here sounded like a dream, a much better alternative to the streets or some dirty motel with bed bugs and men ready to have fun with young meat. Also, he already spared me from hiding the body. That’s a great start. He seemed pretty nice.

I relaxed a little, the fear subsiding. I looked at him, trying to appear calm and composed.

"So you want to mentor me…" I said slowly. "Teach me to be a killer like you. Finish your work."

James chuckled, sipping his whiskey.

"That is correct, my dear. I will guide you and show you the way. I have plenty of experiences to share.”

I nodded, feeling a strange excitement bubbling up inside me. 

“So, darling, tell me. Men or women?”  James asked, boring his gaze into me.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

He chuckled. “No need to become so tensed up. I meant killings. With whom would you like to start? Or do you have no preferences?”

I frowned, feeling stupid and hoping he didn’t notice my confusion. 

“No need to feel flustered, dear. It’s a simple question.”

“Men.”

He smirked. “Why?”

I shrugged, struggling to find words “I don’t know. Feels like they are more… They usually deserve this.” 

James leaned back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips. 

“You are surprisingly observant, young lady,” he said, swirling his glass of whiskey. “Men tend to underestimate the threat of younger women. It is a common mistake, one that can prove to be quite lethal. Especially when dealing with you."

I met his gaze, not sure if I should be pleased or concerned by his words.

"You make me sound like some sort of dangerous predator," I said.

James chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh, you are, darling. You just haven't realized it yet."

“It was self-defense.” I reminded him in a harsh tone.

“Of course, dear. You had no other choice. I understand.”

James' voice was smooth, soothing even. It was hard to tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. 

"You are a survivor. Don't be ashamed of it." He continued, his eyes never leaving my face. “Be proud.”

"Proud," I repeated, testing the word on my lips.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door.

“Excuse me.” James stood up and went to the door. I also got up to see who could come this late. It was the maid that was supposed to get rid of the body. She looked somewhat nervous, keeping her gaze low, focused on the floor. I could see her hands trembling a little.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice calm and carefree.

“Everything is done, sir.”

“Great. Now tell me, do we have any loner male guests on this floor?” By his tone, it was obvious that he was excited. 

“There is a middle-aged gentleman in room 70. Probably waiting for his mistress.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Evers, you are free to go.” James chuckled and turned to me. “Time for your first lesson, darling.” He walked to the wooden drawer and opened it. I watched him pull out different objects from the drawer and lay them on the table. There were a few knives, a couple of sets of keys, some tools, a bottle of liquid, and a black leather bag.

“Come here, dear,” James said, gesturing to the table.

I approached him, feeling a sudden mixture of excitement and nervousness. He looked at the tools on the table and then back at me. 

“Pick one.”

I looked down at the table, my eyes flickering over the assortment of tools. For a moment, I considered the small knife, its blade glistening in the dim light. But then I spotted something else that caught my attention.

"What about this one?" I asked, picking up a black stiletto. 

James chuckled. “Ah, I see you have a taste for the more elegant weapons. Good choice.”

I examined the stiletto, feeling its weight in my hands. It was a beautiful weapon, slender and deadly.

"Now, let me show you something." James picked up the black leather bag and undid the strap, revealing a collection of small glass bottles.

“What’s that?”

"Tools of the trade." He smirked, “This one is chloroform, it works wonders with the weaker types.” March picked up a bottle of clear colorless liquid and placed it in my hand. I studied it carefully.

“And other bottles?”

“This one is a sedative. It has a much swifter effect than chloroform. And this one,” He picked up a small blue bottle, “is a mixture of drugs. A perfect choice for heavier sleep.” 

“But be careful with it," He added, “Use too much and you might end up with a very dead man before the fun even starts.”

He looked me up and down “Do you have clean clothes with you? I'm afraid our friend from room 70 won't be happy if he sees you covered in blood sooner than we want him to.”

I shook my head. I only had a few pairs of spare underwear with me. I remembered that my bag was still in that room.

“I need to take my bag-”

“Worry not, my dear, Ms. Evers will bring you everything you might need.” He suddenly stopped and looked me up and down. “How tall are you?” 

“About 5’4.”

“That’s just great.” 

I stood there confused but didn’t ask any questions. I just stared at him stupidly. Probably women threw themselves at his feet when he was alive.

March walked to the door and shouted. “Ms. Evers!”

In a couple of seconds, the maid appeared in the doorway again. She didn’t look annoyed or tired, it looked like she was very glad to please him. 

“Bring a set of clean clothes for our young friend here. And her bag. You will find something suitable in Elizabeth’s old dresses.”

The maid glanced at me, her look seemed contemptuous to me. Then she nodded and quickly vanished behind the door.

I stood there, a little flustered by the whole situation. 

“Who is Elizabeth?” I asked James.

“My wife.” He answered, his smile faltered.

“Oh…” I said, not sure if I should say something else. That was unexpected. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” James said, his voice back to its usual cheerful tone. “You’ll look wonderful in her things. Much better than the current generation girls.”

Huh.

I said nothing and just waited for the maid to return. The silence wasn’t awkward though, rather soothing.

In a few minutes, the maid returned with my stuff. Quick.

“The young lady's belongings.” She said, her hands trembling slightly as she handed me my bag and a pile of folded clothes. 

“Thank you, Ms. Evers,” James said, dismissing her with a nod. The maid gave me one last glance and left.

“You should try them on, darling,” James said, pointing to a half-ajar door, suggesting a bathroom behind it.

I closed the door behind me and inspected my clothes. It was an old-fashioned black dress, mid-length. 

I took off my clothes, washed blood stains from my skin, and slipped into the dress. It was a little tight in the hips and was loose on top. His wife had great boobs. Despite the old-fashioned look, it was actually very flattering. It hugged my figure in all the right places, showing off my, well, curves. The black color gave it a touch of elegance. I twirled in front of the mirror feeling a little silly and excited at the same time. 

I fixed my makeup with tissues. My eyeliner was smudged, so it looked like smokey eyes. I looked like a young rich socialite, except instead of Gucci shoes I was wearing red Vans.

I smiled at my reflection, feeling the adrenaline rush. I looked damn good in this dress. I was a predator. At least I felt like it. 

I opened the bathroom door and stepped out, seeing James still sitting in the armchair. His eyes fixed on me as I walked out.

I saw his gaze wandering all over my body, as though trying to memorize every inch of it. I wasn’t sure if I should feel creeped out or flattered.

“You look marvelous, my dear,” he said, standing up. “Ready for the hunt?”

I nodded, feeling my heart beating faster. I was ready. Ready to prove myself to him, to show that I wasn't some scared little girl who happened to kill someone. I was wild. I was dangerous. I was a hunter too.

I took the stiletto and folded it. 

“You’re going to do just fine. Shall we go and make our friend acquaintance?” He chuckled, extending his hand to me. I took it.  The touch of his cold dead skin felt strangely reassuring. 

We walked down the long corridor in silence. I could still feel the adrenaline rushing through me, making my hands tremble slightly. Maybe I was dreaming? It could be a dream. A nice dream.

“You have complete freedom of action, darling. Now we are just testing your abilities. And don’t even think about feeling guilty, good people never stay in Cortez.”

Finishing the sentence, he suddenly disappeared. I looked around, finding myself in front of door number 70. With the stiletto hidden in my palm, I raised my other hand and knocked on the door.

A few moments passed, and then I heard footsteps inside. My heart skipped a beat. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was standing outside an unknown man's room in an evening dress. 

Seconds later, the door slowly opened, revealing a middle-aged man standing in the doorway. He was tall and quite attractive to my surprise. He looked like a stereotype of an “older guy” from Pinterest.

“How can I help you?” he asked, looking me up and down.

I put on a polite smile and looked up at the man, trying to hide my nerves. “Good evening, sir. I'm terribly sorry to bother you so late in the night, but I seem to be having some trouble. May I come in for a moment?”

The man looked at me for a few moments, his eyes wandering over my figure in the tight dress. I could see his mind working to make a decision. Probably not a typical sight in this hotel.

“Of course,” he finally answered, stepping back to let me in. “Are you alright?”

“Someone was following me, I was so scared…” I said with a trembling voice, entering the room.

The man led me into the room and closed the door behind him.

"That's terrible," he said, sounding sympathetic. "Can I offer you a drink?"

I smiled.

"It would be lovely, thank you." 

The man poured us both a glass of whiskey and handed me a drink. I could sense his eyes fixed on me as I took the glass. 

“Please sit down,” he said, gesturing to the coach. “Can I know your name, love?”

“Myranda,” I answered taking a sip. I had no idea why I chose this name.

“You alone here, Myranda?” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my exposed legs.

“Yes, unfortunately,” I answered. “My friends ditched me at the last moment.”

“It can be very unsafe in a place like this, especially for a young girl.”

I pretended to look worried at his words.

"Yes, I know. That's why I'm so glad I ran into you," I said, my voice slightly trembling. "I was so terrified."

To my surprise, he looked worried. “I can call you a cab or give you some money. Do you have someone to walk you home?” I was almost taken aback by the genuine concern in his voice. It wasn't what I expected. I shook my head.

“No, it's fine,” I answered, giving him a small smile. “I just need a place to rest for a bit. You know... to calm my nerves. Thank you.”

“Of course, you can stay here for as long as you need.”

"You're being so kind to me." I smiled gratefully, taking another sip of whiskey. It was burning my throat, but I kept a straight face. 

“My daughter is about your age, I know it can be harsh to be a young girl, love.”

His words brought back memories of my stepfather. I hoped he was burning in hell.

"Your daughter is lucky to have you," I said, my voice a bit more emotional this time. God, how should I kill him? He is just a good man.

He looked a bit surprised to hear the suddenly emotional tone in my voice.

"Oh, thank you," he answered, a look of sadness passing across his face momentarily. "We don’t see each other too often now."

He smiled sadly, taking another sip of his drink. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" 

“I’m 18.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprise in his eyes.

"Only 18? That's even more reason for you to be careful, love."

He got up from his chair and walked over to the minibar, refilling his glass.

I can’t kill him. I can’t kill him. I can’t kill him.

I bit my lip, watching as he topped up his drink. He was probably a good person, a decent man. That thought was driving me crazy. 

I could just leave, walk out of the room, and pretend none of this ever happened. James would probably be mad. I couldn’t kill him, not now, not after he had been so nice to me. 

“Can I ask you something?” I asked quietly, my voice a little shaky.

He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before he took a seat next to me on the coach. 

“Of course, love. You can ask me anything.”

I took a deep breath, trying to sound as natural as possible.

“I don't mean to be rude, but... why are you here alone? You don't have a wife or something?”

His expression darkened slightly, a sad smile appearing on his face.

“Ah, my wife…” he said quietly, taking a sip of his drink. “We've been divorced for quite some time now. It wasn't a good marriage, to be honest.”

He looked at me and smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You know how it is, love. People change, they grow apart. Though I miss having someone to love me."

I nodded. 

“Can I use the bathroom?” 

“Of course.”

He pointed to a door on the other end of the room.

I smiled, standing up and walking towards the bathroom. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I leaned against the cold surface, taking a deep breath.

How the hell was I going to do this?

I glanced around the bathroom, my eyes scanning the small space. My gaze landed on the mirror above the sink. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection - a young girl pretending to be a femme fatale, wearing a ridiculous black dress and holding a stiletto. Maybe I was in a coma? Maybe I was dead? I hoped so.

I felt dizzy. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. But the reality of the situation was still there, mocking me cruelly. 

"I can't do this," I whispered to my reflection. "I'll go insane." I already was. 

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heartbeat. I looked at my reflection again, the cold water dripping down my face. It was my own face staring back at me, but it felt like I was looking at a stranger.

I will walk out and pretend it never happened. I took one last glance at the cold stiletto in my hand, then quickly hid it in the tight sleeve of the dress. I felt nauseous for no reason. My legs felt bubbly. I took another deep breath before walking out of the bathroom, forcing a smile on my face. 

As I walked out the room was empty. I froze for a moment, looking around the room. The man was nowhere to be seen. 

Before I managed to turn around something grabbed me from behind. I let out a gasp, startled by the sudden movement. A hand covered my mouth, muffling any sound I was about to make. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, holding me firmly in place. 

“Be quiet, love.”

The man's voice was a quiet hiss in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. I could feel his body pressed against mine, trapping me completely. What the fuck?

I tried to struggle, but it was useless. Alcohol made me weak, or maybe he mixed something in my drink. Anyway, he was much bigger and stronger than me. I let out a muffled scream against his hand, which was still covering my mouth.

“You better stop fighting or I will have to hurt you,”

I whined. Stupid stupid stupid. I never hated myself more in my life. I started crying. 

He pushed me roughly. My face pressed into the bed. I felt his weight on my back. 

“Please,” I begged.

“Shut up. You think you can walk to the man during the night dressed like the slut and drink here with no consequences?”

I managed to pull out the knife out of my sleeve, but he was faster, grabbing my hand, and making me drop the weapon. 

“What a bitch you are.”

He unzipped my dress. I regretted that I pulled out the knife in front of him, I should have stuck it into my throat. He wouldn't have time to stop me. That way, at least I wouldn’t have to suffer. I shut my eyes.

In a second I heard the sound of flesh being pierced. I felt something hot and wet on my back. Blood. The grip on my body loosened and I immediately turned around. 

James was standing there with a dagger in his hands. The man was lying dead on the floor. I felt so relieved that I couldn’t even say a word.

“You alright, darling?”

I nodded, my body trembling. He helped me to get up. 

“It’s okay. You did quite well for the first time, don’t worry, you are safe now.”

My legs seemed to refuse to hold my weight, my knees buckled and I almost fell. James’ hand wrapped around my waist, supporting me.

"He seemed nice," I whispered. 

“Well, don’t let fool yourself next time. Won’t you?”

I shook my head. 

“What now?” I mumbled, my voice still shaking. I guess I was in shock.

I leaned against him, my head resting on his chest. 

“You should rest.”

I nodded. I felt like I might pass out at any moment.

“Okay," I whispered. “I guess I failed the first task.”

James chuckled softly, his hand caressing my head. 

"Don't be too hard on yourself, dear, everyone can feel hesitation," he said gently. "You did well, considering the circumstances. You'll get another chance. There are plenty of men here."

He walked me out of the room. I followed him without a word, still clinging to him for support. The corridor outside the room was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the air conditioning.

“Just remember to never drink anything from others, okay?” 

“Mhm,” I mumbled as we walked into another guest room.  It wasn't as luxurious as his room, but I would be grateful even for a storeroom.

“You can stay here. I promise it’s safe. Ms. Evers will bring you anything you might need.”

I nodded, still feeling quite shaken. I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to steady my breathing. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling,” he replied, taking a seat next to me on the bed.

“You watched me in his room...” I began, my voice quiet and a little shaky. “Why didn’t you step in sooner? You could have saved me from the beginning.”

"Well, I wanted you to have a chance to save yourself. You had chances, darling. Just remember this: never let your guard down. Always be prepared, even when you're surrounded by comfort. It's a harsh world, but you should be harsher."

I nodded slowly, understanding his words.

"I won't make the same mistake again," I said remembering the eyes of the dead man.

My mind was slowly drifting away from me. I laid on my back. Everything was spinning. He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Sleep well.” The last thing I heard before falling into the darkness.

I hope you enjoyed! Have a nice day/night <3

A/N: I am thinking about making this a series, but I dunno yet.

tags: @jazz-berry , @madmagicalheathen , @dustypastelrose

let me know if you want to be tagged in the next works!!

[hellsenthero]

A Martyrs Hymn

Bucky X Reader

After being captured by Hydra, both you and Bucky are scared to lose the other, and close just isn't close enough.

Warnings/themes: Language, smut, angst, fluff.

MASTERLIST

-----

You were on your knees, hands behind your back. Like a good Christian, looking for absolution.

But you weren't. You were just looking to get out of this alive. But the zip ties around your wrists and the gun cocked, pressed up against the back of your head execution style suggested otherwise.

The cement floor dug into your knees. The smell of bleach was strong in the small room, no doubt from the cleaning of other victims.

You wondered how much bleach they'll use after they kill you. Would they need a lot-- to clean up your brains from the floor. Would your blood flow down the sloped floor into the drain? Or would it splatter across the walls like it did in those slasher movies?

"I'll ask you one more time. Where is our asset?"

You knew exactly who they meant, and you knew exactly where he was.

"I don't know." You answered.

"So be it."

You got little more than a second to pray that their asset remained safe and far away before a bang echoed out through the small room. The door, crushed inwards from the outside, flew open. You turned, as did the man behind you with the gun.

You gasped as a shot went off. Then one more.

The blood splattered, like it does in the slasher movies, before the man's body collapsed to the floor. Slowly, a pool of blood formed around the still warm body of your capture.

You were in enough shock that all you could think was—Both. Blood splatters and pools on the ground.

Hands grasped your face, your body, checking you over, moving you, freeing you. You looked up into the stormy blue eyes of the asset. Your lover, Bucky Barnes.

“Are you hurt?” Breathed Bucky.

“No.” You answered truthfully.

Bucky was quick to wrap his arms around you, squeezing your body tight to his own before he released you with a frown. “We need to go.”

You stood as Bucky did before following him out of the room. Through the cold cement hallways Bucky kept vigilant. His gaze swept your surroundings before finding you and leading you further through the twisting labyrinth that was Hydra’s strong hold.

Sunlight greeted you as you followed Bucky out of the building. You found yourself wondering if it was the same day, or even the same week as it was when you had been captured. But you couldn't be bothered to ask the date or time of day.

“Bruce is on the jet, he'll check you over, okay?”

“Okay.”

The jet was close by, and ten minutes later, Bruce gave you the all clear. You could tell the news relieved Bucky as he slumped down in his seat.

“I told you.” You chased him.

“I worry.” He argued.

You rested a gentle hand on Bucky's thigh. “I know you do. I'm sorry I worried you.”

Bucky leaned over in his seat to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “‘s not your fault, baby.”

He never let go of you the whole flight. He fussed over you like a mother hen, getting even worse when Bruce told you that you still needed to go to medical and get checked out by a doctor.

You kept your own hand on his as well. He was your anchor just as much as you were his. After the scare that was you being captured, neither of you wanted to let go of that grounding connection.

The final check-in with Dr. Cho was shorter than expected. You got the all-clear to go back to your suite and rest before even attempting a report on your initial mission and capture. It was a temporary relief off of your shoulders.

Bucky kept an arm around you all the way back to your shared bedroom. His touch was firm but gentle. You knew it was reassuring for him to keep a hand on you after being captured by Hydra.

“I'm tired.” You admitted as you neared your door.

"We'll get you cleaned up and tucked into bed soon." Bucky promised. He made sure that once in your shared bedroom, you didn't have to lift a finger.

Bucky helped strip you of your clothes once in your shared bathroom. It wasn't sexual, the way he took you clothes off and looked at your body. You knew he was looking for cuts, bruises, anything that meant you'd been harmed. You were both glad when he found nothing more than a few bruises.

With gentle fingers, Bucky washed your body with your favourite body wash. Everywhere he touched, it was with a gentle, loving hand. It was different from the last shower you'd shared, where Bucky left bruises across your hips from his tight grip as he'd fucked you to completion.

In the bedroom, Bucky grabbed his softest shirt for you to wear. His scent wrapped around you like a hug, but still, it wasn't enough for you. And it certainly wasn't enough for him.

Bucky needed to hold you after what happened. He knew he was a selfish man when it came to you. Close was never close enough, especially after what happened today.

A whisper of your name in the dim bedroom had you turning around to face Bucky. One look at his face and you knew what he needed. It was the same thing you craved from him. You moved as one. Grasping and clinging on to the other for dear life. Your legs tangled with Bucky's as he rolled you over onto your back. His arms strained as he held himself above you. He nuzzled at your neck, kissing you, taking in your scent. His lips traveled along your body, mapping you out. His breathing was a hymn for your ears only. Your body was his temple and he was a martyr.

“Never again.” Bucky breathed as he sunk into you.

“Never again.” You promised.

[subtlelovers]

Suguru Geto headcanons

Creator: Yall reblogs, likes, comments and suggestions are GREATLY appreciated!!!! I never knoow who to write these about so I just chose Geto, the nsfw is marked in red mdni

He LOVES when you brush his hair and do it for him.

Geto is the typa guy to always be hot. As in he would heat you up with cuddles yet still manage to be cold somehow.

Definetely does skincare, face masks, scrubs and stuff like that with you.

He would not hesitate to literally kill anyone who hurts or tries to hurt you.

He loves cooking food. Wether that is waking you up with breakfast or cooking dinner. He won't complain if you ask for a 5 course meal.

He would use your clothes to his advantage. Using your belt to pull you closer, putting his hands in your pant pockets. If you have a purse you bet he will put his stuff in it.

Geto is definetely a blanket hogger. He will steal the blanket cause he is "Cold" And when you complain he uses it as an excuse to cuddle.

If he gets jealous and stuff, which he usually isn't he will casually put his hand on your thigh or have you sit on his lap to make sure everyone knows you're his.

He would always peek at your phone whenever you're focused on it. If he sees you watching something interesting on tiktok he will refresh your fyp mid video.

If you end the day with an argument, he will need goodnight hugs and kisses and an "I love you" No matter what or how you protest.

THIS MIGHT BE A ME THING BUT YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE DOESEN'T LISTEN TO ARCTIC MONKEYS AND CHASE ATLANTIC!

If you watch a sad movie and you start crying he will laugh at you BUT he will also cuddle you so your back is against his chest and hug you.

Though if you get scared at a horror movie, trust me he will just let you be scared while he mocks you. "It's not even scary" "Scared, hm?"

He is very good at remembering to shave his face, it's always clean.

Geto definetely snores. Not that loud obnoxious snore, just a subtle one, enough to keep you up.

NSFW MDNI

Geto is and EATER. And if you try to close your legs you can bet he's forcing them back open.

He loves praising you, but also receiving praise. Man wants to know when he's appreciated.

Doesn't neseccarily do a lot of foreplay but if he wants you to really feel it he will make you grind on his leg/thigh. if that's something you're comfortable with

He is very dominant, definetely top though he is way more on the soft dom side, he still needs to feel like he respects you. While still being in charge.

This guy has the fucking face card. If he want's it he gives you that look, that facial expression. (I put the one i'm talking about at the bottom of the post)

I imagine if he's horny he would either do what I mentioned above, or he will literally strip in front of you. Either keeping or taking off his boxers. He then flexes his muscles, considering it the hugest ego boost if you compliment his appearance.

He always makes sure you are comfortable before he tried something new with you. And is always excited whenever you ask him for something, he would do ANYTHING. Your wish is his command.

I imagine Geto enjoys period sex. To be honest I feel like this man would even eat you out on your period, using anything like placing his shirt or a blanket under your hips as a towel while saying "A soldier isn't scared to get blood on his sword"

This guy would go FERAL if you just as much as traced your fingertips along his v line.

He has long fingers. Let's admit it, he loves fingering you as much as you love him doing it, he reaches places you didn't know existed.

Geto would definetely be a groaner. Deep (sometimes raspy) groans and moans, but you would hear his voice get whiny and shaky whenever he cums.

Kind of related to the one above. Geto would for exampple if you two were at a store I feel like he would pretend to whisper something to you but instead moan next to your ear and give your neck kisses. He loved your priceless reactions and the way you would scold him for doing that in public.

Fucking face card 🡳

OKAY if yall have suggestions to who i should do next or just anything you want me to write PLEASE LMKK im all outta ideas🥲

[shogunish]

𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀.

synopsis. “you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

contents. a bit of angst, comfort, miscommunication/lack of communication, implied friends-to-lovers, soft! satoru, takes place after the star plasma vessel incident, satoru's trauma response, unedited, something i whipped up on a whim lmao

wc. 1.3k

note. had a sudden urge to write this when i watched dazai edits and i hope i'll find more inspiration to write like..i just wanna be consistent for once 🥲

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

the inverted spear of heaven was no more.

the star plasma vessel incident — mainly toji fushiguro — had carved its mark into satoru’s flesh. after satoru had killed the man, he had made sure to destroy the cursed tool until not even ashes remained of the sharp blade that used to spill the blood of innocents.

it was almost like the sorcerer wanted to destroy the things that could destroy him.

however, he failed to notice how he had almost destroyed his relationship with you, too.

no longer did satoru wrap you up in his bear hugs. no longer did he let you rest your head on his shoulder on movie night. no longer were you welcome in his space.

always were you kept at an arm’s length. satoru was close enough to admire but so far out of reach like the constellation of stars dotting the night sky. what you thought was no more than a phase turned out to be so much more until, in the safety of your bedroom and underneath your blankets, your vision blurred with tears.

if the sun wasn't there, the moon would remain hidden in the vast void of space. and without satoru, you couldn't shine, either. in fact, your smile dimmed until it was almost extinguished by the pain satoru put you through — but it wasn’t his fault. or so you'd like to tell yourself.

satoru had danced with death when he was meant to only protect a girl.

you couldn't possibly blame him.

after all, you could neutralize the only thing that kept him safe.

the ability to nullify any cursed technique upon touch was as convenient as it was, literally, cursed. with zero offensive abilities, you always relied on satoru or suguru to cover for you in case your plans didn't work out. one miscalculation and your head would roll — that much you knew.

among every student attending jujutsu high, you were the weakest while satoru was the strongest.

it was enough to tie your fate to satoru, weaving a web of complicated feelings which usually tasted like those sugary gummy bears the sorcerer carried with him. it was sweet and warm like his embrace, but the blade of toji fushiguro had effortlessly cut through the fine webs. nothing but a cold void remained where laughter and silly inside jokes about digimon danced along the velvety threads.

almost like a black hole that swallowed the constellation in the skies, leaving behind broken galaxies and lonely stars that swallowed moons to fill the loss of their companions.

“he's so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, threw the teddy bear in your arms into the corner of your bed and sat up to blow your nose.

the teddy bear was a polar bear adorned with button eyes and a red bow tied around its fluffy neck. it looks like you, you had mindlessly said during last year's summer festival. satoru had spent the entire evening shooting little rubber ducks to earn enough points to win the silly bear, but it was worth it for your eyes lit up like the fireworks that followed soon after.

the clock read two am when you poured boiling hot water into a cup of instant ramen, ripped open the package of spice and stirred the meal with disinterest written all over your face. not even the scent of cheap cup noodles made your tummy growl anymore. how could it when it was so full of dread, guilt and worry for the sorcerer who stole your heart and refused to give it back? it was an unfair bargain, really.

just a moment later, you heard a knock on your door. you considered ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but alas, the lights were on and likely snuck through underneath the crack of the door to your dorm. what kind of idiot knocked on your door at two am?

satoru — the only idiot who'd knock on your door in the middle of the night and look like a kicked puppy.

“satoru? it's two am..,” you spoke first, standing between him and the warmth of your dorm.

satoru didn't look like satoru. even through the pitch black glasses of his shades could you see the storm brewing in those sky-blues of his. with a sigh, he rubbed his neck. “why does everyone keep telling me how late it is? ah, no matter.”

you wanted to ask, but decided against it.

“look, i know it's late, but i can't help but think you've been avoiding me for the last couple of what? weeks? months?” satoru shifted his weight from one fuzzy slipper to the other. “was it something i said?”

in that very moment, you realized you were doing the same things as he was. as soon as class was over, you'd go home alone. you'd have lunch alone. you'd spend your weekends alone. all those things once were shared with satoru in your space, but as soon as he avoided you..you avoided him, too out of fear of getting hurt.

“satoru..don't you realize that you've been avoiding me first?” your voice was quiet as you hugged your middle. “ever since the incident and the destruction of that cursed tool, you always kept me at arm's length. you no longer let me get any closer nor do you spar with me anymore. nothing..”

“you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

a painful epiphany coiled in satoru's stomach like a snake. was he so busy destroying the devil's tools and refining his technique that he..forgot about about you? the person who'd steal his fries and snore on his shoulder on movie night? no, no way. he would never see you as a threat even though your touch could dissolve his infinity like sugar when it touched water.

“[name], that's not..” the words got stuck in his throat. for the first time in his life, he was speechless. “you are anything but a threat.”

“then why..” tears brimmed your eyes until they overflowed, ran down the apples of your cheeks and met the warmth of satoru’s thumb. it was not his stupid infinity wiping the tears away, but satoru himself.

to be touched by satoru felt like the first sunrays of spring gracing your skin. warm, familiar and hinting at the end of a long, unforgiving winter that had taken root in your belly. soft sobs bubbled in the back of your throat, rocking your shoulders and interrupting every word you wanted to say; how stupid he was, how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“shh..say no more,” satoru whispered and took you in his strong arms so you could sob into his chest all you wanted.

satoru didn't care about the tears or snot wetting his shirt. all that mattered was the feeling of you in his arms, and even though it pained him to know that he caused those tears, this was better than receiving your cold shoulder and dismissive smiles.

quietly, you and satoru went back inside the warmth of your dorm where both of you shared some cheap cup ramen which satoru spiced up with some peppers, egg and a conversation which neither of you would remember in the morning to come. no amount of time seemed to have passed between you as you both laughed, bickered and exchanged glances like lovers-to-be would.

“what are you doing?,” you asked, long comfortable underneath the sheets of your bed — or you would be if satoru didn't hold them up and almost looked offended by your words.

“sleeping with you, duh,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and maybe it was.

ignoring your protests and pouts, satoru crammed himself into bed with you, one arm around your waist and the other one underneath your head. his broad chest gently pressed against your back, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.

“you're stupid,” you smiled to yourself while a blush as red as roses crept up your cheeks.

“and you're lucky i love you,” satoru grumbled underneath his breath, blowing some strands of your hair away from his nose and mouth so he wouldn't suffocate while holding you so tight.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon

[marksbear2]

COOPER ‘THE GHOUL’ HOWARD X MALE READER

Headcanons!!

I really recommend watching fallout, I’ve been so in love with it and especially my man Cooper.

Warnings!! ⚠️ Some headcanons will include smut!! It’ll be a mix of fluff and smut!!! And some will before the nuke. Includes Gn, FTM of Afab reader, and male reader. ⚠️

— He has a hate and love relationship with you whenever you mock his accent. It really throws him off during a argument. It makes him lose his thought process.

— When your not doing it in a middle of a argument he finds it cute and attractive. He starts chuckling and smiling like some teenage girl.

— He threatens you sometimes saying he’ll tie you up and leave you for dead or raiders or scavengers to find and kill. 

— He’s been protective of you even before doomsday. He hates anyone even standing to close to you, or when you help survivors.

— Often puts his cowboy hat on you and tells you the ‘Cowboy hat rule’ and you fall for it every time

— You and him making out while his bounty is on the floor tied up. You and him disappearing off somewhere leaving the bounty just to come back with clothes a mess and wrinkly with either you or him with a limp or wiping the corners of yours mouths.

— Him manhandling and being rough with his bounties to show off to you and to get you jealous.

— He often called you inside his dressing room to make out one last time before he went out and got on camera or two have a quick fuck trying to stay quiet so no one hears.

— He kisses you during an argument to shut you up. 

— He really has a small temper and accidentally says something either hurtful or goes off on. He apologizes by going on his knees and taking your hands apologizing with his accent.

— When having sex and he gets all overstimulated he whines and his thick southern accent becomes all cracky and whining becoming completely pathetic.

— He loves it when you become out of no where dominant. 

— He secretly gets off to you just holding his lasso or any type of rope. He himself doesn’t know why it turns him on so much at the sight.

— When he’s being the dominant one he would humiliate you with his harsh and cold words forcing you to accept them and sometimes when he wants you to repeat them for him. Telling you what you are.

— Him finding a cowboy hat not exactly like his but it’s something as you two walk around in the wasteland in cool cowboy survivor like outfits.

— Really good with his fingers. 

— You probably found him first after the nuke and such looking at the damages to the his body and skin. You comforted him for years telling him that he’s still the handsome dashing movie star Cooper you first met.

— He really hates when you two have to spilt ways, even if it was for months or the smallest a day or hour. He really is attached to you and wants to be at your side every second wanting to make sure your okay. He wants to the one to protect you.

— Since you two are living in the apocalypse he rarely sees you completely lean. So the first time he saw you without dust, or blood or dust he fell in love with you all over again. Touching your body carefully and worshipping you and also like some damn dog rubbing his hard on against you.

NOW VAULTER AND TRANS (FTM) AND AFAB READER.

— If you were a vaultie he often called you it and makes fun of your outfit. He treats you exactly what he thinks of the vaulters. 

— He was the first person in years, ever since you got in the vault to have sex with. It was like losing your virginity all over again just to now some bounty hunter.

— Duding a argument he always has this one like that “Your a vaultie, you wouldn’t understand.” He knows it pisses you off but he doesn’t care especially during an argument but at the end of it he always feel regret.

— He lasso’s and drag you you around since your a vaultie and doesn’t trust you enough to be in the Outland by yourself.  He treats you like some newborn baby.

— The first time you two met you two were always going back and forth over and over to the point you got him so angry he shoved you down and forced you on your knees and fucked you right there in the outside in the middle of the open it wasn’t like anyone would see. But you were fresh out of the vault and hadn’t had sex in forever you had orgasm and orgasm he felt like the king of the world.

— He helps you with dysphoria by finding the most masculine clothes he finds off the people he kills and gives it to you as some sort of gift. 

— Doesn’t hesitate for a second and shot someone the moment they misgender you went off their tongue shooting them right in the chest then head.

— He would wrap your chest with bandages.

— Whenever your feeling down he would and very willing to eat you out whenever he can. He would bury his face in it licking and sucking your clit while he fingers you like his life dependent on it. He wouldn’t even care about his own pleasure and only focused on you. He calls your clit your cock and loves to suck it. 

— He loves seeing his cock move in and out of your pussy, he loves rubbing it against it. Always promises just to do the tip but ends up slipping it all inside. He fucks you while rubbing your clit and loves getting you all wet and excited to make you put your clothes back in.

— He would stay up all night comforting you whenever you have second thoughts about being a man.

THE END

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Jealous/possessive ghostface!miguel x nerdy reader

😘 I have no idea but I hope this helps

I love loVE LOVE Ghostface and I hope you like this cuz the second I heard ghostface the ideas started forming and- I just hope you like it! I got a little carried away so if you want something different just send another request

!!!!READ THE CW!!!!

Ghostface!Miguel x Nerdy!f!reader

CW: Nsfw, jealousy/possession, blood, a little con non-con, knife kink, degrading, implied stalking, fingering, p in v, too big, tears

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you ran through your house and out the back door. It was him, the serial killer all over the news. Fucking Ghostface. You couldn’t believe someone would take on that title and actually succeed in living up to it.

Everything about him was incredible. His voice, his mask, his hands grasping that knife- hold up! You’re seriously romanticizing the guy trying to kill you? Well, he is hot…

You shook the thought away as you continued running, trying to recall all the rules from those movies you loved so much. So much… Hey! Focus. Right, the rules.

• Never had sex, you failed that one

• Never drink or smoke

• Never run upstairs, that doesn’t really help if you’re outside…

• Never say-

“AH!” Your own scream cut off your thoughts as the strong man tackled you. You flailed and struggled against him as he pinned your wrists above your head. “Let go!” You cried out, hoping anyone would hear you. But of course like any god horror movie, your house was in the middle of nowhere.

He stayed silent as he held you down with ease. As hot as this is, you started feeling genuine fear, tears streaming down your cheeks. You managed to get a hand free and rip his mask off his face. God fucking damnit… he’s gorgeous! What are you even thinking.

The man growled as you tossed the mask aside, quickly pushing your wrist against the ground again. “Stupid bitch!” You knew that voice. You had run into him many times before. Miguel O’Hara? Was he stalking you? You did think it was weird he showed up everywhere you did… Why would he stalk you?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel the cool metal of his knife against your cheek. You gasped and turned your head to the side, trying to get away but it’s no use. The sharp metal nicked you, and you felt the blood trickle down your face. He gave you a sinister smirk before licking up your cheek, lapping up your blood.

“Delicious.” He growled in your ear. “Now stay still for me, Cariño.” You don’t know why, but you wanted to do what he says. That’s not true, you know exactly why. It wasn’t out of fear. It was because you were so turned on. Your pussy was so wet just from hearing his voice without that filter.

Miguel’s hands travel down your sides before he pushes the hem of your skirt up. He grabbed your soaked panties and yanked them down. You let out a gasp as the cold hair hits your exposed cunt. He smirked as his fingers spread your folds and he took in the sight of your beautiful pussy.

“This cunt is mine. Only mine, from now on.” He circled your clit, listening to your sweet moans. Two slid inside you with ease, and he started scissoring you. You gasped and moaned, his fingers felt like heaven inside you. He knew all the right spots, and a louder cry ripped from you as his thumb rubbed your swollen bundle of nerves.

Your hips buck and jolt as your stimulated so much. His fingers pumped inside you a bit more before he pulled them out. You whined in protest, then noticed that same hand working at his pants. He got them off his ease, his other hand pushing your shirt up, exposing your bare breasts to the cool night air. As he worked on freeing his erection, he traced down your chest with his knife, sliding the blade between your tits and down your torso.

It broke skin at a few points, and you could see the blood start to spill. It wasn’t enough to cause serious damage or leave scars, but it was enough to sting. His blade then moved to your tits, the tip tracing around both perked nipples teasingly. He loved watching you shiver and squirm under him. He dragged the metal on the underside of your breasts, breaking more skin. The sight made his cock throb.

Speaking of, his massive length sprung free from his pants. He was so huge, it definitely wouldn’t fit even with his half assed stretching of your cunt.

“I-it’s too big, it won’t fit.” You whined a little.

“I’ll make it fit.” Miguel growled in your ear, his leaking tip poking at your entrance. You whimpered and hesitantly spread your legs more, inviting him in. He smirked and thrusted into you without hesitation. You cried out, salty tears running down your cheeks, causing the previous slice to sting.

He was ruthless in his thrusts, ravaging your pussy with his monster of a cock. You cried out and moaned, it felt like he was splitting you open from your cunt. There was sure to be blood after… He groaned as your tight walls constricted around him, as if you could control that.

Miguel’s hands held your hips down as he continued this assault on your poor pussy, never once slowing down. You hated to admit it, but it was soooo good. You could feel that warm knot forming in your gut, only getting tighter when he picked up his pace.

You moaned whorishly as a violent orgasm ripped through you. You felt pathetic, to cum under these circumstances? You should be screaming and crying, trying to push him away. But you didn’t. You loved every inch inside you.

Your face was angelic to him, seeing your eyes roll back and hearing your moans sent him over the edge. With a final thrust he released his load, filling you up to the brim as he drained his balls inside you. That feeling was like heaven to you, making you moan more and your walls clench on his length, milking him for all he’s got.

Miguel slowly pulled out. You could see his cock, glistening in the moonlight covered in your slick and… and blood. You knew he ripped something down there. Your adrenaline didn’t allow you to feel it just yet, and without the immense pain about to come, it looked so hot.

“Are you going to call the police if I don’t kill you?” His voice broke your train of thought.

You pondered a moment. “No… no I don’t think I will…” You gave him a weak smile, the tiredness finally catching up to you.

[roseyreveries]

Hunted

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part Two <- click!

Summary: Hydra infiltrates SHIELD and takes control of Bucky again, setting the Winter Soldier on course to take out his target: you.

CW: Guns, Violence, Blood, Angst, not very movie accurate, the Avengers being weaker than usual for plot

Directory

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The bass from the radio thrummed in time with my heartbeat as I belted out the lyrics to the song blaring from the speakers. My sister, Maggie, laughed beside me, swaying in her seat, her off-key voice matching mine perfectly. We’d done this a hundred times before—road trips, late-night drives, blasting karaoke-worthy tunes that never failed to lift our spirits. Today was no different; it was just us, the open road, and the kind of freedom that only a highway can bring.

I glanced over at Maggie, her face scrunched up in exaggerated concentration as she hit the high note, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re killing it!” I shouted over the music.

“Please, you’re the one auditioning for a Grammy!” she shot back, winking at me.

The world outside was a blur of cars, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting the horizon in streaks of orange and pink. I felt alive, invincible. But then, out of nowhere, everything changed.

It happened so fast. One moment we were carefree, and the next, I was slamming on the brakes. A figure stepped onto the road, right in front of our car—a man with long dark hair, clad in black, his presence commanding the space like he owned it. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Bucky Barnes.

My heart seized in my chest. His eyes locked onto mine through the windshield, cold and unyielding. I barely had time to register the large gun in his hands before he aimed it directly at us. My breath caught in my throat, the world around me slowing to a terrifying crawl.

“Holy shit!” Maggie screamed, her hands flying to the dashboard as if she could somehow shield herself from what was about to happen.

The next second, a loud bang echoed, piercing through the chaos of the traffic. I watched, helpless, as a disk shot from the barrel of Bucky’s gun, hurtling straight at us. It slammed into the underside of the car with a deafening thud, and before I could even process what was happening, the world exploded.

The blast sent a shockwave through the car, and we were airborne. The car flipped violently, the screech of metal against asphalt and the shattering of glass filling my ears. My body lurched against the seatbelt, the force knocking the wind out of me as the car tumbled. Up became down, and down became up—everything spinning in a disorienting blur of sound and pain.

My vision flickered, the interior of the car now a shattered mess of broken glass, smoke, and twisted metal. I tried to scream, to reach for Maggie, but my voice was lost in the cacophony. The car finally came to a bone-jarring stop, landing upside down on the road.

For a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. I blinked, the sharp taste of blood in my mouth, my mind struggling to catch up. Everything hurt—my head, my arms, my chest. My vision was blurred, but I turned to my right, my heart hammering wildly.

“Maggie!” I croaked, the word barely a whisper. She was hanging upside down in her seat, her eyes closed, a small trickle of blood running down her forehead. I reached out, my fingers brushing against her arm, desperately trying to shake her awake.

My hands trembled as I reached out to check Maggie for injuries. I forced myself to focus, pushing through the blinding panic. I ran my hands along her arms, her legs, feeling for breaks or dislocations. Her pulse was strong, steady under my fingertips— a small comfort in the midst of the wreckage. I checked her pupils, watched her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, all the while praying she would open her eyes and tell me this was all a bad dream.

I knew what to look for— what signs meant danger and what was just superficial. Years of training kicked in, the muscle memory of countless missions and drills guiding me through every step. I wasn’t just a regular sister panicking in the aftermath of a crash. I was more than that, had been for a long time now.

Maggie didn’t know the truth. No one did. To everyone else, I was just me— the sister who sang too loudly, who drove too fast, who lived a life that was seemingly normal. But behind closed doors, under the cover of night and secrecy, I was something else entirely.

I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Not just any agent, either. I’d climbed the ranks quicker than anyone expected, my skills and determination earning me a seat at the table alongside the Avengers themselves. I’d worked operations so classified, most people wouldn’t even believe they existed. I’d been trained by the best, learned to fight, to strategize, to survive. And now, all of that training, all of those missions, came flooding back in a rush.

Maggie’s injuries were minor—cuts, bruises, a gash on her forehead that looked worse than it was. She’d be okay, at least physically. The relief was so overwhelming, I almost cried. But there was no time for that. I needed to get us out of here before Bucky— or whoever the hell he was working for— made another move.

I glanced outside, taking in the chaos around us. Bucky was still there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but he wasn’t alone anymore. Other figures moved in the shadows, closing in on the wreckage. I cursed under my breath. This wasn’t just a rogue attack; it was a full-blown ambush. And we were smack in the middle of it.

I reached for the hidden compartment in the console, the one Maggie didn’t know about. My fingers brushed the cold metal of my concealed weapon— a sleek, high-tech piece courtesy of Tony Stark himself. I’d been armed and ready, as always, just in case. I hadn’t expected to need it on a karaoke drive with my sister, but that was the life I led— the life no one knew about.

I checked the safety, my eyes flicking to Maggie once more. She was still unconscious, but she’d be okay. I had to believe that. I had to keep her safe, no matter what.

I eased myself out of the wreckage, gun in hand, and moved with purpose. The agents in the shadows were getting closer, and I recognized the insignia on their uniforms. Hydra. Of course. Bucky was working with Hydra— or maybe he was brainwashed again. I didn’t have time to figure it out; all I knew was that we were in serious danger.

Bucky’s eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there. Recognition? Regret? I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Right now, he was my enemy, and I had a job to do.

“Stay back!” I shouted, aiming my gun at the nearest Hydra agent. They hesitated, their eyes flicking to Bucky for guidance. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging through my veins. I was outnumbered, outgunned, but I’d been in worse situations. I knew how to handle myself. I knew how to fight.

And I was going to fight like hell to get Maggie out of this alive.

“Bucky,” I called out, my voice steady despite the chaos around me. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but they’re not in charge of you anymore. You’re safe, Buck.”

He hesitated, his grip tightening on his gun. The seconds stretched on, an unbearable tension hanging in the air. I didn’t know if he’d listen, if he even could. But I had to try. For Maggie. For all the people who’d counted on me to keep them safe.

For the person I used to believe Bucky was.

His gaze shifted, something softening in his expression. I held my breath, praying for a miracle. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he wore so well.

“Move,” he ordered the Hydra agents, his voice flat, emotionless. The moment was gone. He wasn’t Bucky Barnes, the hero. He was the Winter Soldier. And there was no reasoning with him.

I steeled myself, my grip on the gun firm. If Bucky was going to make me fight, then I would. There was no turning back now.

I stepped forward, adrenaline surging through my veins, and fired the first shot. The Hydra agents scattered, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They fanned out, ducking behind cars and debris, their weapons raised. I squeezed the trigger again, aiming for the nearest target. The bullet hit its mark, sending the agent sprawling to the ground. But there were too many of them, and I was just one person.

The highway erupted into chaos— bullets whizzed past, shattering the remnants of glass around me. I ducked low, using the twisted metal of our car as cover, my mind racing to formulate a plan. There was no backup coming; it was just me against a small army. But I’d faced worse odds, and I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

I darted out from behind the car, my movements fluid and precise. I fired off two more shots, dropping another agent before spinning to take cover behind a cement barrier. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder that I was still alive, still fighting.

They kept coming, relentless and determined. I counted at least six, maybe more, their dark uniforms blending into the shadows of the wreckage. I fired again, hitting another in the shoulder, but the rest were closing in, tightening the circle around me. I moved quickly, pivoting and shooting, each motion a calculated effort to keep them at bay.

A bullet grazed my arm, the sharp sting slicing through the adrenaline. I hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the pain. I had no time to bleed, no time to think. I fired again, but my gun clicked— empty. I ducked behind a nearby car door, my fingers fumbling for another clip, but I came up empty. I was out of ammo.

Shit.

I crouched behind the door, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. My mind raced, calculating my next move. I could hear the Hydra agents regrouping, their footsteps growing louder, the sound of their weapons being loaded. I glanced down at my gun, flipping it open to confirm what I already knew— no bullets, no way out. My eyes darted around, searching for anything I could use, but the highway was a wasteland of broken cars and debris.

I was trapped.

Then, with a deafening crack, the door was ripped away, torn from its hinges like it was made of paper. I stumbled back, my eyes widening as Bucky stepped forward, his silhouette framed by the chaos beyond. He moved with a lethal grace, his metal arm still raised, the door now discarded at his feet.

I scrambled backward, my hands searching for anything to defend myself, but all I found were shards of glass and twisted metal. Bucky’s gaze was locked onto me, his expression unreadable, his footsteps deliberate and unhurried. He advanced, and I kept retreating, my back hitting the wreckage of another car.

Just as he reached for me, something red streaked through the air, smashing into Bucky with the force of a freight train. The impact sent him flying, his body hurtling across the highway before crashing into the side barrier with a bone-rattling thud. I blinked, stunned, my brain struggling to process what just happened.

I turned my head, and there he was— Iron Man, standing with his fist raised, his helmet gleaming under the dying light of the sun. The red metal glove that had just knocked Bucky out of the way hovered mid-air for a split second before it shot back to his arm, snapping into place with a hiss.

“Thought you only worked at night,” Tony quipped, his voice crackling through the suit’s speakers, though the concern was evident beneath the sarcasm. He didn’t waste a second, his repulsors flaring as he took off to engage the Hydra agents swarming the scene.

I barely had time to register Tony’s arrival before two more figures emerged from the chaos. Black Widow and Hawkeye moved like shadows, their motions fluid and deadly. Natasha’s guns blazed as she took down the agents closest to me, each shot precise and unerring. Clint loosed arrows at an impossible speed, his sharp eyes targeting every Hydra soldier who dared to step forward.

“Go!” Natasha shouted, nodding her head towards the car where Maggie still lay, her voice sharp and commanding. “We’ve got this!”

I snapped back into action, scrambling to my feet and sprinting towards Maggie. She was still unconscious, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only reassurance I needed to know she was still hanging on. I fumbled with her seatbelt, my hands slick with sweat, and pulled her free, cradling her limp form as gently as I could.

I scanned the road, spotting a bystander— a man in his thirties who looked more terrified than I felt. “Help her!” I yelled, thrusting Maggie into his arms. “Take her to the nearest hospital!” He nodded, wide-eyed but willing, and hurried away, cradling my sister as he dashed toward the edge of the highway where it was safer.

With Maggie safely out of immediate harm, I turned back, just in time to see Natasha sprinting towards me. She tossed something in my direction, and I caught it instinctively— two matte black handheld firearms, their sleek, familiar weight grounding me instantly. My usual weapons. The ones that had seen me through countless missions, each nick and scratch a testament to the fights I’d survived.

“Thanks, Nat,” I breathed, loading the guns with a practiced ease. “I owe you one.”

“Just another Tuesday,” she quipped, her eyes scanning the area for threats as we ducked behind a nearby car, taking cover from the barrage of bullets raining down from the Hydra agents still standing. Tony and Clint were keeping most of them busy, but there were still plenty to go around.

I fired off a few rounds, picking off agents as they attempted to advance. The familiar rhythm of combat settled over me, a strange comfort in the midst of the chaos. I turned to Natasha, my voice low but urgent. “What the hell happened? Why is Bucky like this again?”

Natasha grimaced, reloading her guns. “There was a breach at the tower. Hydra got in, and they took Bucky. Managed to wipe everything— reset him completely. He’s back to being the Winter Soldier.”

My stomach dropped, a cold pit forming as her words sank in. “And now he’s trying to kill me?”

“That’s the part we don’t get,” Natasha said, her tone edged with frustration. “The intel we managed to pull says you’re his primary target, but we don’t know why. Whatever programming they shoved into him, it’s all centered on you.”

My mind raced, trying to piece together a motive, a reason— anything that would explain why Hydra would send the Winter Soldier after me, of all people. I thought of every mission, every time I’d crossed paths with them, but nothing added up. I was high up in S.H.I.E.L.D., sure, but I was far from their most dangerous enemy. At least, I thought so.

“We’ll figure it out,” Natasha promised, her eyes meeting mine, fierce and determined. “But first, we get through this. And we stop Bucky before he does something we can’t undo.”

I nodded, steeling myself. I couldn’t afford to think about what might happen if we failed. I had to focus, had to keep fighting, because there was no other option. Not when Bucky was still out there, lost and controlled, a weapon aimed directly at me.

Natasha and I exchanged a glance, and then we moved as one—emerging from cover, weapons blazing. The air was thick with smoke and gunfire, the acrid smell of burning rubber stinging my nose. But I pushed forward, each step driven by the need to protect the people I cared about, to find a way to bring Bucky back from whatever hell he was trapped in.

The battle raged on around us, a whirlwind of gunfire, explosions, and shouting. Tony blasted through Hydra agents, his repulsors sending shockwaves that tore through their ranks. Clint’s arrows flew with pinpoint accuracy, each one taking down an enemy as he moved with effortless grace. Natasha was relentless, her strikes precise and lethal as she fought her way through the chaos.

But Bucky was the eye of the storm, moving with deadly efficiency. He tore through Hydra and Avengers alike, his metal arm swinging with brutal force. Every hit landed with bone-shattering precision, every movement calculated to maim or kill. The Winter Soldier wasn’t just in the fight—he was dominating it.

Tony launched a barrage of energy blasts at Bucky, but Bucky dodged with inhuman reflexes, closing the distance in a matter of seconds. He tackled Tony mid-air, dragging him down to the pavement with a force that cracked the asphalt. Tony hit the ground hard, the impact jarring, but he was up in an instant, firing another repulsor blast that sent Bucky stumbling back.

“Stay down, Tin Man!” Tony growled, taking to the air again, trying to put some distance between them. But Bucky was relentless. He lunged, his metal fist smashing into Tony’s side with a clang that echoed through the highway. Tony’s suit sparked, systems flickering, but he kept fighting, blasting at Bucky with everything he had.

Bucky ducked under Tony’s next attack, moving in close. His metal arm swung up, catching Tony square in the chest. Fingers of steel closed around the arc reactor, the very heart of Tony’s suit. With a vicious twist, Bucky ripped it out, crushing it in his grip. Sparks flew as Tony’s suit shut down, his systems failing with a flicker of dying lights. Tony fell, gasping as the suit collapsed around him, powerless and struggling to breathe.

Natasha rushed in, her movements a blur as she aimed for Bucky’s legs, trying to trip him up. She landed a hit, her boot connecting with the side of his knee, but Bucky barely staggered. He swung his arm, catching her mid-strike, and sent her flying into the wreckage of a nearby car. She hit hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Natasha tried to rise, her expression set in determination, but Bucky was already on her. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly before slamming her back down. Natasha gasped, struggling, her hands clawing at his arm, but she couldn’t break free.

Clint loosed an arrow, the projectile striking Bucky’s shoulder with a solid thud. Bucky snarled, releasing Natasha, who crumpled to the ground, clutching her side. Clint fired again, but Bucky deflected it with his metal arm, the arrow splintering against the steel. Bucky moved in, his fist a blur as he knocked Clint’s bow from his hands. Clint ducked under a punch, rolling to the side and grabbing another arrow, but Bucky was faster. His metal arm swung like a sledgehammer, catching Clint across the ribs and sending him crashing into the guardrail. Clint grunted in pain, struggling to get back up, but Bucky was already turning away, his focus shifting.

And then his eyes locked onto me.

A chill ran through me as Bucky turned, his gaze zeroing in like a predator who’d just spotted its prey. I was out of ammo, my guns discarded on the ground, my body aching from the earlier hits. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I scrambled backward, my hands searching for anything I could use as a weapon. But all I found were shards of glass and twisted metal, nothing that could stop him.

Bucky advanced, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each one echoing like a drumbeat in my ears. I swung a metal pipe, but he caught it effortlessly, wrenching it from my hands and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. I stumbled back, my back hitting the wreckage of a car, nowhere left to run.

“Bucky, please,” I tried, my voice cracking.

He didn’t respond. He was right in front of me now, his expression blank, his eyes cold and empty. There was no sign of the man I knew— only the Winter Soldier, a weapon with one purpose: to eliminate his target.

I swung again, this time with a jagged piece of glass, but he deflected it easily, sending the shards clattering to the ground. His fist slammed into my side, pain exploding in my ribs. I gasped, falling to my knees as the world spun around me. I was exhausted, every part of me screaming to give up, to lie down and let it end.

But I couldn’t. Not with Tony down, Clint barely standing, and Natasha struggling to breathe. I couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this.

I pushed myself up, using the car behind me for support, and faced him. “I know damn well you’re in there somewhere. This is not you, Buck. You need to wake up. Please.”

For a second, Bucky’s arm hesitated, his gaze flickering. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, unyielding stare of the Winter Soldier. He raised his metal arm, poised to strike, ready to finish what he started.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow. I could hear the faint sound of Tony struggling to get his suit back online, Clint’s pained breathing, Natasha’s quiet groan as she tried to push herself up. And Bucky, standing over me, ready to deliver the final blow.

Bucky’s metal arm was raised, ready to deliver the final blow. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst from my chest, every instinct screaming at me to survive, but I was cornered, and there was nowhere left to run. I stared up at him, my breath hitching in terror as I crumbled against the wreckage, tears streaming down my face. The Bucky I knew isn’t there anymore. This is it.

“Please, Bucky,” I sobbed, my voice breaking under the weight of my fear. “Please don’t do this. Please! I don’t want to die.”

My words were a desperate, frantic plea, spilling out in a torrent of terror as I shook uncontrollably. His expression was blank, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he loomed over me. I pressed myself further back against the twisted metal, trying to make myself as small as possible, but there was no escaping him. I could barely breathe through the sobs racking my chest, each breath coming in panicked gasps.

“Bucky, I’m begging you!” I cried, my voice cracking. “You don’t have to do this. Please… please, let me live!” The words were tumbling out of me, broken and raw, and I was shaking so hard I could barely get them out. “I’m not your enemy! Bucky, please!”

His arm didn’t falter, his face a mask of cold determination. I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body wracked with sobs as I screamed, “Please, Bucky!” The second I saw his arm swing down, I looked the other way and screamed, “I love you! I love you!”

The words ripped out of me, raw and desperate, cutting through the chaos. I opened my eyes to see what had happened. Why wasn’t I hit? His arm was stopped, freezing mid-swing. His eyes widened, confusion flickering across his features as if he were suddenly woken from a trance. The soldier’s unyielding stare gave way to something else—something conflicted, like he was struggling to understand.

Bucky stumbled back, his hand flying to his head as if he were trying to claw the commands out of his mind. He groaned, a guttural sound of pain that echoed in my ears. I watched, tears still streaming down my face, as he fought with himself, his body convulsing with the effort to regain control. His breaths were ragged, each one a struggle against the chains of Hydra’s programming.

He let out a tortured scream, the sound filled with agony as he staggered back, his fingers digging into his scalp. His metal arm jerked erratically, twitching as if caught between following orders and breaking free. It was like watching someone try to tear themselves apart from the inside out. My heart ached at the sight, every second a painful reminder of how deeply he was trapped.

“Bucky…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I reached out a hand, but he didn’t hear me. He was lost in the battle within his mind, his body shaking violently as he continued to scream, his face contorted in a mask of pain and fury.

His feet shuffled back further, his back hitting a crumpled car as he slumped down, his hands clutching his head. He pounded his fist against the ground, each hit sending cracks through the pavement, each hit an attempt to silence the war inside his own head. I wanted to reach out, to help him, but I couldn’t move, my own body weakened from the fight and the fear.

As Bucky struggled, I heard the distant sound of heavy footsteps— the unmistakable thud of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushing in. My vision blurred, the adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving a dull, throbbing pain in its place. The world around me began to fade, the sounds of Bucky’s anguished cries and the agents shouting orders blending into a muffled haze.

I tried to keep my eyes open, to hold on just a little longer, but my strength was gone. My body slumped, the last of my energy spent as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. The last thing I saw was Bucky, still fighting against the storm in his mind, and then everything went black.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

Join my Taglist!