#my tired brain enjoys his sadism

[allthebeautifulsouls]

CW: mention of theoretical rape/non-con, discussion of mental health, mention of smut

I’d like to try to start writing fic—I’m pretty sure I’ve exhausted all AO3 has tagged with Helmut Zemo. Perhaps let’s start there. Why on earth have I latched onto this middle aged man with such a ludicrous degree of self-projection?

This is a terrorist. He is referred to as a war criminal—you don’t get that designation from a single bomb attack. What does one actually do on a Sokovian death squad, much less the commander? I should take him and his crimes seriously. My brain always conveniently slides over this part. I suppose on some level I desperately want him to be redeemable, which I feel is fairly inconsistent with war crimes. What do I consider unforgivable? Rape. Dehumanization. Genuine non-sexual sadism—relish in the suffering of innocent others.

I can’t envision a version of Zemo that willingly rapes another human being that I can empathize with, and this seems to elicit almost a gut-reaction. I’ll enjoy some of Hydra Steve or Evil Bucky, but as soon as it gets to Zemo I balk. Some might argue that sadism is a hallmark of his personality. There’s this one brilliant writer whose work I adore who has one fic discussing the possibility of Zemo’s actual war crimes, and I’ve never actually finished it, each time I feel almost nauseated. Why is this so?

While he’s likely been my strongest obsession, he wasn’t the first. For a few years there were Bucky recovery fics (pre-TFATWS). For a time in college, when I went through my depressive episode and all that came after, I genuinely felt that I had no idea how to be a human being and that I had to establish it from first principles. To have this character literally try to figure out how to be a human being and not a machine, I think it calmed something inside me to see my internal struggle made so explicitly external and magnified. How do you build from nothing? Or, worse than nothing, a ragged slate of pain and numbness and despair and fear? Of course, my issues weren’t anywhere near the magnitude of those depicted on screen and in fic. To be honest, they’re fairly typical of figuring out how to be a young adult. Still, this kind of fic deeply resonated with me for reasons I couldn’t understand. Throw in my figuring out my sexuality and interests over that same period, my exploration of kink, and there were a whole bunch of interesting things—still are.

And now, a slightly different time in my life, a different character. In truth, I think what it always is, as with all comfort characters, is projecting my deepest insecurities and dearest hopes onto them. Wanting to find a better story for myself. I’m a sucker for a redemption arc—I started figuring this out with Zemo, but it really crystallized after I read a few excellent Draco/Harry fics. I want to see someone who has genuinely been bad put in the work to genuinely become good. I want to believe that I, too, can be redeemed, even if I can’t figure out yet how to ask from what.

I’ve had a bit of trouble with some slight scrupulosity, and so it’s this version of Zemo as an exhausted, world-weary, suicidal, scrupulously moral (to his own code) master strategist that has me by the heartstrings.

He has experienced so much pain and loss, and he is so tired, and his is so driven by this one overwhelming goal, and everything must be precisely the way it should be—come hell or high water he’ll finish his mission. He’s a master strategist, he looks at the world and sees interlocking systems, identifies the many interwoven strings and twings only the precisely correct one to accomplish his goal. He is precise and methodical and tired and hurt, still hurting, still working. I want to see him rewarded for his efforts, see him acknowledged as good, redeemed, a protagonist suffering instead of a villain wallowing. Painting him as a tragic figure allows me to feel better somehow in my small challenges—not necessarily a positive all the time. I can and have, after all, thrown myself into reading fanfic to hide from my fear, shirk my responsibilities. It hasn’t always had a positive impact on my life. And yet in other ways it has been deeply comforting and inspiring. And just fun.

With that all being said, the majority of this blog will be unrepentant smut XD

[keilemlucent]

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want? 

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic. 

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

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You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days. 

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours. 

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much. 

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment. 

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

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 Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk. 

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog. 

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

 Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them. 

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway. 

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine. 

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care. 

You were comfortable and content. 

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes 

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious 

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird 

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

 You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered. 

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too. 

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes. 

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion. 

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by. 

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse. 

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance. 

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows. 

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures. 

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly. 

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger. 

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished. 

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego. 

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office. 

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood. 

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk. 

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods. 

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up. 

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way. 

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control. 

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath. 

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on. 

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.” 

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen. 

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants. 

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you. 

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you. 

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you. 

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming. 

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state. 

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold. 

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe. 

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body. 

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?” 

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment. 

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you. 

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you. 

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut. 

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically. 

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back. 

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed. 

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him. 

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides. 

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty. 

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?” 

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock. 

 “Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.” 

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best. 

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him. 

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded. 

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way. 

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

 Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily. 

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit. 

“You’re my good girl.” 

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his. 

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably. 

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god. 

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.” 

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw. 

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been. 

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness. 

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips. 

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted. 

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings. 

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech. 

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue. 

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right. 

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back. 

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet. 

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them. 

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained. 

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat. 

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full. 

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in. 

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer. 

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest. 

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it. 

++++++++++++

taglist: @sinclairsamess (msg me if you’d like to be on it!)

ko-fi

[yukipri]

Marco’s Bauble Part 2 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Ended up writing a continuation of the first Marco’s bauble post, thank you so much to everyone who commented and inspired me to write more ^ ^

This was posted on my Patreon earlier this week!

Follow up to On Thatch, Marco, & the Whitebeards - Marco’s Bauble #1 , please read this one first ^ ^

Contains Koala x Luffy, Thatch x Luffy, and Marco x Luffy with bg Ace & Sabo, wow is that a combination of ships I never expected to see, but whelp here we are....

~~

~~

It's during one of Koala's Fishman Karate sessions when That Thing falls out of Luffy's pocket.

At first, Koala thinks she must have imagined it, because why would Luffy have one of those.

But then Luffy drops the stance she's been struggling to hold, concentration shattered, and pounces on the little thing that's trying to roll away from her on the deck.

"Ah, my Mystery Rock!" the mermaid cries, reaffirming that no, Koala didn't imagine it.

Koala stares with dawning horror as Luffy scoops the thing up, rolling the shiny blue bauble between her palms to make sure it hasn't been damaged. She's moving to stick it back into her inner vest pocket when Koala stops her.

"Luffy...where did you get that?"

"Oh this?" Luffy's eyes light up, and she shoves the thing right up and personal in Koala's face.

Koala can see it clearly, the aquamarine glass with shards of multi-faceted crystal and gold flakes embedded in it, with a small, dark core made up of none other than seastone. It's unmistakable.

"Thatch gave it to me!" Luffy continues, and Koala's already moving, spinning on her heel towards the kitchen because she is going to throttle that damn cook--before Luffy adds, "It's not from him though! It's from his friend! The pineapple-bird man!"

Koala freezes, her fury towards Thatch dwindling, but she still feels her heart pounding louder than it should be. She has no idea what a pineapple-bird man is, but the point still stands: a man had given Luffy her "Mystery Rock."

"Luffy," she says, trying to keep her voice light, hoping it isn't cracking with the hysteria she feels inside. "Do you know what that is?"

"It has a sea rock inside!" Luffy says, proud that she's remembered what Ace told her. It's seastone, but close enough, Koala thinks. "It's got glass and stuff on the outside, so I can touch it without getting tired! But it still feels like the sea! It's my magical Mystery Rock!"

Koala nods and smiles, even though she feels her lips strain. "Anything else?"

Luffy blinks. She couldn't be more obvious about pulling a blank, for which Koala is immensely grateful.

Okay, okay. So. Luffy knows what the object is, but probably doesn't know what it means. Which means Koala can relax. For now.

She forces herself to take a deep breath. She shouldn't jump to any conclusions.

"It's a very nice Mystery Rock," Koala smiles sincerely, and it really really is.

Nicer than Luffy's likely aware of.

"How about we take a break for today. Do you want to go show Ace the basic water pulse you can do now?" Koala suggests, and Luffy beams with her whole face and Koala's blinded. It lasts only an instant before Luffy's stretching her arms to grab a rail, slingshotting herself away in the blink of an eye, leaving Koala feeling like a cloud just passed over the sun.

Koala heaves a huge sigh. She's never been more grateful for the lack of Sabo's presence during Fishman Karate sessions, because if Sabo had seen Luffy's "Mystery Rock," and if he had asked Koala to explain its significance...well.

Things would not be pretty.

And despite how objectively beautiful the bauble is, things are already very Not Pretty inside Koala now. She has some words for Thatch's friend.

~~

Thatch's surprised when Koala of all people enters the kitchen (Lil Lesbian No. 2, he'd secretly nicknamed her). He'd just kicked Sanji out with the trays of desserts and beverages they'd made, telling the younger man to go enjoy the sun while Thatch finishes cleaning up and starts prepping for dinner.

Thatch honestly wishes he could be the one to present the sweets to Luffy, but he's also mature enough to let this opportunity go to Sanji. The boy'd practically been twitching with excitement while adding the last loving touches to the parfaits.

It's fine, Thatch is an adult. And by staying in the kitchen, Thatch also gets to prepare and therefore present the enormous steak that'll be part of dinner (and which is Luffy honestly going to be more excited for, a parfait or sea king steak?).

Either way, Thatch's just about finished, and checks his dials one last time before turning to give his visitor his undivided attention.

"So, did the parfaits interrupt your time monopolizing my future fiancee, or...?"

Lil Lesbian No. 2 smiles sweetly, or rather bares her teeth, and doesn't return Thatch's greeting. Rude.

"Thatch, who gave Luffy the seastone trinket?" she demands without prelude. And huh, so that's what they're going to talk about. Thatch blinks. No, he hasn't forgotten about it, and yes, he's still bitter, but he's also a bit alarmed by Koala's intensity. It's just a nice gift...right?

"One of my crew mates," he says cautiously, not seeing any reason to lie. "My friend. Marco."

"Marco the Phoenix, First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates," Koala mumbles, and Thatch can see her pulling up all the mental files she has on him. Thatch has learned that the young revolutionary has a terrifying mental database of pretty much anyone who's made a name for themselves in any way, and reminds himself to never take his teasing too far, because he does not want to make an enemy of her.

Her blackmail-compiling finished, Koala smiles thinly. "So Thatch, do you know what that bauble is?"

Thatch feels like he's being tested, and whatever he says is going to be wrong. "It's a fancy thing you can buy at Fishman island? Costs a small fortune? The mer ladies always seem super happy get them as gifts? I'm not sure what you're asking here," he shrugs helplessly under her glare. He really doesn't know anything else. Fishman island may be Pops' territory, but he's certainly no expert on their culture beyond studying their cuisine.

"And your friend, does he think the same?"

"I don't know what that bird-brain thinks! If you're going to kill him, go after him, not me," Thatch groans. "Are you going to actually tell me what's wrong, or...?"

Koala seems to debate about something, and Thatch hears Sabo muttered under her breath. She then starts to chuckle, and it's a dark, unpleasant sound. Thatch is more than a little concerned.

"Oh the mer ladies like receiving them alright," she mutters.

She takes a deep breath, like she's hyping herself up for something, and now Thatch is tense too.

"Does your friend know," she says, voice so painfully sweet it's gone bitter, "that he's given Luffy the human equivalent of an engagement ring?"

Thatch stops breathing.

A beat, then,

"THAT BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!"

Ace pops his head into the kitchen. "Anything wrong?"

"NOTHING!" Koala and Thatch scream in unison, and Ace jolts backwards in alarm.

"Alright...then. I'll...be back later?" Ace blinks like a puppy confused as to why he'd just been kicked, but he still shuffles back outside, politely closing the door behind him.

Thatch feels pretty awful about making his little brother slink out of his own ship's kitchen, but holy shit does he not want Ace to hear this right now.

Luffy with an engagement ring.

Ace'd explode, then Merry would burn, and then everyone would drown and that's a very sad ending to their short-lived adventure.

"The fuck," he hisses to Koala, just in case Ace is still lurking outside.

"That's what I want to say to your First Division Commander!" she spits back, and alright, fine, maybe she has every right to be upset. "Who does he think he is, giving Luffy something like that? I haven't even asked her out yet!"

Thatch isn't sure that last part is entirely necessary, and mumbles, "My future fiancee," but Koala steamrolls right over him.

"Did he do it intentionally, or is he just an ignorant human like you?"

Thatch wisely keeps his You're human too comment to himself. "Again, I'm not him, I don't know!"

Thatch thinks Marco doesn't know the weight of the gift he's sent. At least, he hopes so. No one on the Moby Dick believes Thatch because they think Marco's always a stuffy mother hen, but Thatch knows Marco can play some pretty nasty pranks when he wants to. But Marco wouldn't pull something like this, it doesn't feel in character for him. He can be a pain in Thatch's ass, but he wouldn't drag in Ace's little brother who he hasn't even met yet. But then again, it also feels weird for Marco to not have looked up the significance of something he spent his own money on. It's all very strange and confusing.

Even so, Thatch is with Koala this time, and is totally okay throwing his older brother under the ship so to speak, because the bastard hasn't even met Luffy, and there's no way he'll support this "engagement," or whatever the hell this is.

"You know," Koala says, far too pleasantly for the mood. "Sabo's going to kill him when he finds out."

Thatch shrugs, he has no intention of helping his friend. "Eh, Marco can handle it, he's strong."

"No, you don't understand," Koala insists, and oh there's that sadism back in her expression. "Ever heard of the Fort Gray incident? That was all Sabo. And Sabo's going to murder your friend."

Thatch has heard of that, few on the Grand Line haven't. And...oh. Maybe Chief of Staff is actually a pretty terrifying title after all. "Marco's fine, he's strong?" he repeats, a little less confident.

Koala snorts, and spitefully grabs a handful of the caramelized pecans on the countertop and shovels them in her face as Thatch squawks protest. He was going to use those!

"I can't wait till Ace hears, because then there'll be two of them," she cronches as Thatch sadly rummages in the cabinets for more pecans. "So now the question is, do we warn your friend or not?"

Thatch isn't feeling particularly charitable, but he also feels betrayed and wants to know what Marco was thinking. The next time one of those damn birds comes, he thinks. He has some questions to ask the Phoenix.

~~

~~

The incident refers to the mission in Sabo's flashback in the anime expanded content at the end of Dressrosa. I dun think it actually had a name/location (could be wrong), so made it up and yes my naming sense is creative I know LMAO.

The beginning might feel choppy bc there was a big Koala x Lu part at the beginning that I chopped off bc it felt too irrelevant to the topic. Might clean that up for a separate post tho ^ ^;

As always, comments/reblogs/tags always immensely appreciated! <3

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 3

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[trickster-4]

Chapter 2

Lilith stood there paralyzed as the demon in child form walked towards her sister. Her magic was gone snuffed out like a candle. Lilith couldn’t even a cast a spell to warm her body and she felt so.. cold.

“Such a monstrous creature .. I should make this permanent.. No, I won’t do that, it’s not what Eda would want..”

”That voice.... Her entire presence feels so dark...” Lilith felt horrified at the feeling of the human’s mind..

Warmth began to return to Lilith’s body and she slowly began to recover. Just in time to see a human child undoing her curse with ease.. Seconds after she begins to gawk at Luz who had reclaimed Eda’s staff and began to fly away.

Thirty minutes later…

“She is to be left alone..”

“Sir?”

“She altered the flow of your magic twisted it with ease..” Emperor Belos sat in the chair with a cold demeanor.. “Luz or whatever the entity wishes to call itself could have stripped the magic from your body as easily as breathing..”

“But isn’t she a danger?”

“Immensely so.. Nevertheless the power she possess though infinite could be taxing on her mind. Notice the duality she struggled with after casting such a spell.. The more power she accesses the more memories there is of this Shabragnido in her mind..” The Emperor shook his head at the idea of that. This entity was an unknown. Letting it loose was dangerous, but provoking it when it proved capable of damaging his palace despite his best spell? That was foolish..

“And my sister?”

“The same.. Keep your distance until this creature is gone or weakened..”

“.. Yes my lord..”

“The Human is dangerous, but can be maneuvered around... The instincts of this entity however.. It’s an animal it craves destruction...” The Emperor seemed fascinated and yet repulsed as he continued to described her true nature.. “And the scale of it’s appetite are for lack of a better word far reaching… I have never felt such sadism from any being.. She wanted you dead Lilith in a way a mere mortal cannot desire.. The only thing that held her back from finishing you off is Amity Blight..”

“Amity?”

“Love…” Bellow began to laugh cruelly.. His head shook with cruel mirth.. “Such a novel thing.. And so easily twisted.. Hard to believe such a malicious thing like Luz Noceda could love..”

There was a cruel cackle of laughter that echoed from the throne room. And all across the palace even the servants of the emperor shivered in fear.

Elsewhere…

Luz looked in the mirror trying to find anymore demonic features staring back.. She finally sighed in relief. Besides her red eyes and her shadow occasionally flickering between a demonic figure or a girl; Luz still looked human for the most part.

“What am I gonna do?”

“Kid don’t worry.. Word up the grapevine is that you’re not to be crossed..” Eda patted Luz on the shoulder trying her best to comfort the young girl.. “Apparently whatever show you put on has them spooked..”

“Great..” Luz smiled sarcastically.. “Hexside is gonna be awesome..”

The following day…

Luz was not used to being avoided like this. The countless eyes staring at her with fear and trepidation were unsettling. More so was the reverence some of the faculty and the older students were showing..

“Lord Ruby Eyes….” Principal Bump gave a bow as he passed Luz by. “We’ll attempt to keep classes normal as per your desires..”

“Thanks…” Luz continued to walk through the hallways only to come across Willow and Gus. She smiled at the sight of them and approached them. “Hey guys how are you doing?”

“Oh hey Luz.. We’re doing fine..” Willow seemed rather unsure of herself. Her family were of the old worshipers devoted to the first dragons. They knew of the battles between Ruby Eye and her Lord.. “I’m glad you made it out in one piece.”

“Thanks I’m glad you’re doing good as well..” Luz hugged Willow who was caught off guard but she embraced her friend tightly.. “You guys didn’t get in trouble did you?”

“Nope..”

“Our parents.. were concerned but they’re holding off judgment…”

“Judgment?”

“You’re kinda a religious figure in Old Witch lore..” Amity walked in with a small smile. She held several books upon approaching Luz.. “You made combat magic, curses, hexes, transformation magic, we owe you much and it’s terrifying having your legends walking among you.. Especially when there’s a lot of evidence you are who you say you are.. Your aura is old, ageless, and dark and you matched Emperor Bellows easily despite being a “human”.. No one wants to make a god angry.”

“But I’m not a god it’s just me..” Luz protested even as her shadow shifted once again to the notice of Willow and Guz.. She muttered annoyed and was about to protest. Suddenly it felt like static in her brain and there was the taste of copper in her mouth. Then Luz looked at her hands and saw they were soaked in blood.. “No…..” The girl couldn’t believe what she was seeing and was distrusted by it.. “No No No No NO NO NO..”She ran towards the water fountain.

The girl scrubbed and scrubbed trying to get the blood off. She heard the crying of children and death screams of countless people. It hurt, it hurt so much and to feel that to understand that was absolute torture..

“Please stop it Luz!!”

You gotta stop Luz..”

“Luz!”

How many people did she kill as Shabragnido? How many jealous husband cursed their wives using her spells? How many kings sacrificed their children for power in her name. How many civilizations did she lay to waste just because she enjoyed doing it?

“Please stop Luz!”

“Your hurting yourself please stop Luz!!”

“LUZ!!”

Luz finally stopped scrubbing. There was never any blood she finally realized that. Though her hands was heavily rubbed raw and shaking. “Amity…” She grabbed her friend tightly and began to cry..

“It’s going to be okay Luz..” Amity promised..

The classes were thankfully over quickly though Luz had to lean on Amity constantly for her support.

That Afternoon..

“Well I figured something like this could happen.. Luz’s old life is ancient. And reawakening her powers has caused those memories to unspool. It’s not gonna be an easy job.”

“But you can do it right?” Amity looked at her crush’s mentor.

“Of course I can, best witch on the boiling isles here..” Eda boasted before sighing looking tired. Despite the fact that physically she felt great and had even regained her red hair; the witch was exhausted after making this artifact. Hopefully this would block out her old memories for a short time.. “Now once the spells have set this will keep your past from rearing it’s ugly head during the day. But you need to take it off later after school it has to recharge after eight hours.. Also your mind needs to deal with these memories Luz..”

A black head band glowed yellow mysteriously in Eda’s hands..

“Are you sure!?”

“Yes and I’m serious this could cause damage to your mind..” Eda gave her apprentice a stern no nonsense gaze. She wouldn’t budge on this in the slightest and upon seeing the over enthusiasm for the artifact put it into a jewelry box and locked it.. “You’ll take it off after school and you’ll be doing mental exercises with Amity and me for a few months..”

“Exercises?”

“Excuse me?”

“After your little excursion last time into Willow’s mind. I think you get the gist of it..” Eda leaned down to Luz and hugged her tightly for a moment. “It’s something similar but you two are gonna do deep diving and organizing of Luz’s old memories.. It’s going to be hard.. But, it’ll get easier and eventually you won’t need those little tuneups..”

“So this is not a permanent thing?”

“No it’s just a matter of helping Luz’s mind deal with the impending shift in gears.. Once that’s done she can heal naturally..”

“Oh thank goodness…”

“Why? Are you worried about seeing your crush’s mind?”

“Shh Luz doesn’t know that!!” Amity blushed angrily as she looked towards Luz who still seemed to be stuck in her thoughts. Thankfully she heard nothing.. “She’s going through a lot right now!! Luz can hear about that later..”

“Sure just don’t wait too long. Last thing we really need is a love triangle..”

Amity glared at Eda even as she fought to keep her face from blushing hard. She couldn’t believe her teacher and this woman were related..

“There’s something that I’m wondering about… Is Shabragnido really me?” Luz looked towards her shoes trying to avoid seeing what form her shadow was taking on at the moment. ”Part of me says yes…Or am I just a vessel for him? I feel things he felt, remember things he experienced. But, this goes beyond just sympathy or empathy doesn’t it?”

“There’s no one else in there Luz..” Eda waved off her concerns of identity.. She held her apprentice’s gaze with a compassionate smile. For a brief moment her eyes glowed yellow for a few seconds. “Frankly your soul looks different.. At some angles it looks human, and others it looks like an overpowered demon.. But, it’s just you Luz.. There’s just more to you than you actually knew about.”

“What if I go full demon? What I get swallowed up in all these memories..” Luz’s eyes began to tear up only for Amity to take hold of her shoulder and smile. “Thank you Amity..”

“No problem it’s what friends are for..”

“Now then let’s get started.. Here’s hoping you kids don’t land into one of Luz’s fantasies..”

“What?!” The two girls screamed before they both faded into Luz’s mind. Eda shook her head laughing to herself. There was a sudden knock at the door she tensed for a moment before summoning her staff. The Elder Witch opened the door slightly.

“Who’s there?”

“H-Hello… Eda..”

“Leave Lilith.. You weren’t welcome here, but now my policy is shoot to kill on sight..” Eda glared at her sister with a cold unfeeling stare. She felt her mind shift to a number of deadly spells. “You’re dead to me.. Get away from my house. Go wherever you want to go, but to me Lilith Clawthorne died at age fourteen..”

“Eda..”

“I will never forgive you..”

Lilith’s head began to ring as those words rippled through her mind. The words that she never wanted to hear from her sister and haunted her darkest dreams.. Those words that were never spoken until today. I will never forgive you. I will never forgive. I will never forgive you. I will never forgive you. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!!!

Luz’s mind...

Luz and Amity slammed the door on the door. They were both blushing heavily and sweating while they walked away unable to look each other in the eye. Amity never knew Luz had such an attentive and creative imagination when it came to those things..

“Okay...” Amity looked a thousand miles away her face was blushing pink. She stared blankly ahead trying not to remember that vivid scene. Nope we are not thinking about. It’s Luz’s fantasy and I am not going to comment about it!! “Let’s just try to get into your memories and put things in order..”

“Soooo let’s get started..” Luz looked ahead towards a greek looking door.. She felt that it was new a recent emergence into her mind. “That place looks like a good place to start.”

“Ancient Atlantis… Whoa..”

“What?”

“Sorry it’s just a bit of a sore spot for witches one of the most magically developed civilizations.. Now we’re getting a look at those days..” Amity smiled excitedly. She took Luz’s hand into her own. “It’s a huge deal think of the discoveries that we can make..”

“I can’t believe that Atlantis actually real..”

They walked into the streets of an Grecian like city. Luz and Amity were in awe of the architecture. Water flowed through various aqueducts buildings were being built in seconds through magic. They were quickly approaching a black stone temple. Luz flinched at the sight of Shabragnido’s statues..

“Huh, I’ve never actually seen what Lord Ruby Eyes looked like ..”

“… So where is he? I mean where am I?”

The two girls suddenly heard the sound of laughter in the streets below the temple. They followed the sound until they saw a little girl playing with a strange horned brown rabbit with ruby eyes.. The rabbit was glumly silently even as he was forced into an embrace by the child. For a moment they actually saw a glimmer of enjoyment in it’s eyes..

“Damn my idiot of a brother..”

“Wait is that supposed to be me!? Why am I so adorable?!!”

[meganshinsou-tm]

Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter eight: breakfast with a side of sadism

❧ genre:  pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

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Your eyes fluttered open, squinting at the sunshine that flowed into the room. You moaned and groaned as your body stretched in the bed, first your arms then your torso and legs, making you poke out your butt and rub against the man that was stirring next to you.

"Watch where you're putting that thing baby girl,” Kiri's sleepy and raspy voice spoke as his arm around you squeezed and he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

You giggled and held his arm, tired eyes looking around the room to see the ceiling fan running, meaning the power must've come back on. Since there was more light in the room now, you could see how Kiri decorated. It looked to be a simple man's room, a few posters here and there. Some dumbbells in the corner of the room and he had a gaming console by his TV. You smiled and turned over to face Kiri who was trying to wake up, he smiled as he saw your face and kissed your cheek.

"I think the power needs to go out more often, that was the best sleep I've gotten in a long time!"

You grinned and propped up on your shoulder, gazing down at your friend and he cuddled up into your chest and smiled. You played with his red locks and complemented how you loved when they were relaxed the way they were now; the two of you laid there a few more minutes and talked. With a sigh you turned to see a clock on his nightstand that read it was now 10AM.

"Okay Red, I think we should get up. I'm gonna go wash our clothes and towels that got soaked. Meet you downstairs?"

Kirishima nodded in agreement, humming when you placed a sweet kiss on his lips. But as soon as you tried to pull away he wouldn't let go of you and kept pecking them, making you giggle and smile.

"Kiri our clothes are gonna ruin and I need to pee!"

He smiled and gave you one last kiss and finally released you, you grinned at him and picked up his and your clothes, skipping out of the room.

You threw the clothes onto the bathroom floor and went to brush your teeth and do your business, ran to your room to put on a bra and ran back to the bathroom. Gathering all the still damp linens you jogged down to the laundry room and threw everything into the washing machine. Taking a breath you looked above you at the next obstacle, the climb for the detergent, but you remembered you had a fucking quirk.

"Duh (Y/N), you're so dumb!"

"So you finally admit it?"

You gasped as Bakugou popped his head around the corner and looked at you with a famous shit-eating grin, you rolled your eyes and flipped him off with one hand, using your quirk with the other to open the cabinet door and make the detergent float down to you.

"When you get done come help me cook!" He growled and walked off.

You stuck your tongue out when he was no longer in sight and continued to put all the clothes on to wash before walking out and into the kitchen.

"I'm only helping because I'm hungry, not because you said please!"

Bakugou grinned and placed some peppers and onions on the counter, handed you a knife and told you to dice them. You did so as he started to crack a few eggs and whisk them.

"So what did you and Kirishima do last night for you to end up in his shirt?" Bakugou asked without looking at you.

Your body stiffened as you realized you were still in Kiri's shirt and how it must've looked. Quickly you started to explain yourself and how the two of you went to a café and got caught in the rain on your way home, also about how the power went out before you could change and leaving Kiri to lend you some clothes.

"So you slept with him?"

"Not like it’s any of your business but yeah.”

Bakugou nodded and went about his task, making a silence grow between you, making your brain start to spiral out of control and overthink about whether the blonde was bothered by what happened or not. Out of sheer nervousness you couldn’t help but want to explain things further.

“N-nothing happened you know. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”

Shit - why did you feel like you had to tell him that? Oh yeah dirty conscious maybe cause they’re best fucking friends that both like you.

"I'm sorry," you rebutted.

Bakugou looked at you with confusion, “Why the fuck are you apologizing?”

You shrugged your shoulders, now feeling even more dumb. You knew Bakugou had feelings for you and that he tried to hide them at times but you expected more of a reaction out of him when you admitted to kissing his best friend before him. It kind of hurt for him not to react more dramatically for some reason.

"I just ... never mind I guess. How do you want these onions cut?"

Bakugou told you to just dice them into small chunks and grabbed a pan out of the cabinet. He was alarmed by the sudden change in you, he expected you to be a little happier especially since you spent the night in Kiri's bed. Or just happy in general since that was usually the type of person you were, it was odd to see you quieter than usual, the hero actually grew to enjoy how you’d literally never shut up. He loved hearing you, whether it was dumb jokes, babbling about something he could care less about or shit talking with him.

"Ah - shit!"

Bakugou heard you gasp and hiss, making him immediately turn around. You were flinging your hand in the air and that’s when he saw blood on the cutting board. His heart dropped and he quickly forgot whatever was in his hand and was by your side in no time.

"What the fuck you idiot! Can't you be more careful!" He growled, grabbing your hand and inspecting the small cut on your finger.

Bakugou grumbled about how hopeless you were while he grabbed your hip and easily sat you on the counter by the sink. Next he gathered some paper towels and told you to wrap them around your finger so he could get a first aid kit from one of the drawers. Once he retrieved it, he ordered you to run your finger under some water and wash it. You did as instructed, after that you watched Bakugou as he dried the cut and applied some ointment to the wound and bandaged it.

"I'm sorry Suki," you apologized and squinted your eyes.

The blonde grunted and placed his hands on your thighs as he looked down at your head hanging low. He had to admit, he couldn't handle seeing you hurt even if it was by your own careless mistake, that just pissed him off even more. But he calmed himself because accidents do happen and it was a small one, you were fine.

"What the fuck are you apologizing for? So you cut your finger, its my fault for thinking you could handle such a daunting task apparently!" Bakugou joked and touched your chin to make you look at him.

Your eyes were rimmed red, making him wonder why you were so damn emotional over a cut finger, or -  did he make you cry?

"Don't worry, it’s just the onions, I'm not crying,” you quickly stated, sensing the concern from Bakugou when his face contorted. “And I'm sorry because I just thought ..." you trailed off not wanting to finish your sentence.

The blonde chuckled and looked into your eyes, "You thought I'd get jealous over you kissing my idiot friend?"

You shamefully nodded your head, making him scoff.

"You fucking worry too much. So what you kissed him, I don’t give a shit. Do whatever your pretty little heart desires, we don’t mind.”

"Suki, I don't think I – "

Bakugou’s hand on your thigh squeezed roughly, making you shut up and gasp as he leaned his face closer to yours and your cheek. Lips dragging from your cheek down to your ear. You let out a breathy sigh, causing the hero’s thoughts to blur as he tried to hold himself together and resist. He wanted nothing more than to take you right there on the counter, to stop fucking around and get his own first kiss - but Bakugou did love teasing the fuck out of you; to see you squirm and loving all the little noises you tried to suppress from him. The blonde chuckled, fanning your ear with his warm breath and causing your thighs to clench as you bit your lip.

He growled lowly and nipped your earlobe, "But tonight, you're all mine princess and I expect the same fucking treatment."

Just like the night before when Bakugou had you cornered in the hall, you melted on the spot, submitting, wanting. You tried to respond, even though your brain was slightly malfunctioning, but a cheery voice managed to slice through the haze and sexual tension between you and Bakugou, making you jump and push him away. The snide male only smiled and chuckled at you.

"The hell happened, are you okay mama?"

Kiri was quickly by your side and inspecting your bandaged finger.

"She's fine, the brat just cut herself trying to dice an onion," Katsuki answered.

Kirishima's face went from worried to relieved, you apologized for your carelessness once again and he smiled softly.

"It's fine sweetheart, we're just glad it wasn't a whole finger that got severed!"

Next thing you knew, your body was being lifted from the counter and your feet setting back on the floor, "How about we take over from here and you go pick a movie for all of us to watch while we eat?"

You looked at the red-head and back at his friend. These two were either really that chill about this whole situation going on between the three of you or they were just really fucking good at hiding their jealously. Either way, you were still too mind-fucked by Bakugou to even care, so you went along with it. Before leaving you asked once more if they were sure they didn't need help, the two smirked and nodded.

"Okay then, well I'll be in the living room if you need me!"

The two men continued to cook after you skipped away, Kiri washed the knife and cutting board that had a little of your blood on it while Bakugou cut up another onion. They both looked at you in the living room on the floor,looking through the shelf full of movies, and smiled.

"So, you only kissed her?" Bakugou finally spoke.

Kirishima smiled and nodded, "I know you're thinking I bitched out or something, but I didn't. I think we should just take our time with her you know? Plus its unmanly to rush her and unlike you I’m not in a rush to get my dick wet. I mean if shit happens it happens, but I say for now if we can just fool around and once she finally feels like confessing, we both pounce on her, that'll get our point across clearly."

Bakugou grinned wide. "For once you don't sound so stupid Red!"

"I'll take that as a compliment bro!"

Now Bakugou was more impatient than ever to have you for himself tonight, he was pent up and planned on breaking you down no matter what.

"Guys, I'm starving is the food done yet?"

It had been more than 15 minutes later and the smell of food had you drooling as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your empty belly.

"Yes you gremlin, come make a plate!"

You squealed and eagerly rushed to the stove-top, the duo had made some omelets and they looked delicious. "I love you two so much! Thank you!"

The two smiled at you and both kissed your cheek at the same time, making you blush and giggle, it felt so … normal and natural. You didn't question it, they were cute! So together each of you made a plate and went to the living room where you piled on the couch together. Once again you were the center of a KiriBaku cookie, your back leaning into Kiri's side and your legs draped over Bakugou's lap.

"So what are we watching mama?"

Kiri asked while taking a bite out of his food.

"Scream ! My favorite horror movie!"

Both of the boys shrugged their shoulders, not objecting to it. Halfway into the movie you had offered to take everyone's plates into the kitchen, when you came back you sprawled out on the couch again, this time you laid on your side in the fetal position as your head rested on Kiri's lap and he played with your hair, your legs resting on Bakugou's lap while his arm hung over you thigh. The three of you were comfortable as you laid across them and watched the movie together.

You were now at the climax of the movie, where Sid, Stu and Billy were in the kitchen, the boys telling the girl their plan. You grinned, watching closely and quoting along,

"Sid, don't you blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos, movies make psychos more creative!"

Bakugou smacked you on the ass and glared, "Do you ever shut up, all you've done is quote this shitty movie, how many times have you seen it?

You turned to lay on your back and kicked the blondes knees with an offended look, "Too many times to count! And don't call it shitty, it's a classic Baka-gou!"

Katsuki growled at you sticking your tongue at in a teasing manner, soon a devilish grin crossed his lips, making you freeze. His red eyes looked up to his friend behind you.

"Hold her down Eiji!"

Your eyes widened as you looked back and forth between the two, finally resting on the red-head you pouted. "Kiri, don't listen to him, be a man!"

A sheepish smile crossed Kirishima’s face and you panicked, quickly trying bolt and crawl off the couch, but the boys were fast. Kirishima held your arms down and Bakugou pinned your legs between his knees as he started to violently squeeze and tickle your entire body. You screamed with laughter.

"You fucking sadists!"

[inkribbon796]

Little Wonders Ch. 1

Chapter 1: Let Your Clarity Define You in the End

Summary: Dark goes house cleaning to flush out a dangerous mole in his network.

Chapters: 1, 2

Dark was outside his office, talking with Google when Logan walked out of his office. There were a couple papers in his hands that the Entity was reading through.

“Is this everything?” Dark asked Google as Logan came to stop a non-confrontational distance away. Logan had only been working for Dark for a little over eight months now, but he’d learned enough about him to tell Dark was already in a bad mood. All Logan could do was stand and wait to either be abruptly dismissed from the meeting he was supposed to go to, or for Dark to usher him inside.

“Yes, he wasn’t doing too much before he disappears from Florida state records,” Google answered calmly, his eyes tracking to Logan before smiling and looking back at Dark. “You’re certain I can’t take care of him myself?”

“Bim is in a hunting mood,” Dark refused. “If you’re lucky, you can keep the brain.”

“Unfortunate, but I’ll have to accept it,” Google allowed and then walked away.

“Ahh, Sanders,” Dark gave a small smile as his attention turned to Logan. “I was a bit worried that you had left early.”

“I leave on average at 2200 hours,” Logan commented walking into the office when Dark silently ushered him inside. He slowly closed the door behind him.

“Sit down, I won’t keep you long,” Dark promised, hands knit behind his back as he strode to sit behind his own desk. “I’ve been looking over your notes concerning my Lost One’s files. Some very useful ideas, wish I could still use them.”

“Did something happen?” Logan was braced for the bad news and an even later night.

“Yes, three of my Lost Ones were arrested, and Yancy is on parole,” Dark admitted calmly. “The whole mess was taken care of an hour ago.”

“I didn’t even know you had left,” Logan admitted. “I assume they are none the worse for wear.”

“Apart from Bim’s overdramatics, they’re all fine, the heroes were too busy thinking they were being coerced to start roughing them up,” Dark commented. “I honestly had nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good news,” Logan agreed.

“It is,” Dark replied in a thoughtful, rueful tone. “But the heroes know a bit too much about Yancy, which means we’ve got a bit of a fly on the wall in my network because they know things Yancy never told them.”

Before Logan could fully decide what to say or give options on how to help smooth over the problem, his chair was abruptly spun around which surprised Logan because he hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him and hadn’t thought the chair was designed to spin.

Even through the distractions, Logan knew he was probably on a short list of suspicious individuals. The person he came face to face with was familiar but not in a way Logan could place.

“Hey Lo,” Orange smiled as he looked at Logan. “Having fun playing dress-up? That’s usually Princey’s thing.”

The Side frowned when he saw the guarded but uncertain look on Logan’s face. “Huh?”

Logan was braced for something, trying to remember where he’d seen this person before.

Dark came up behind them, “Something wrong?”

“He doesn’t remember me,” Orange answered, he took Logan by the lapels of his suit, which Logan immediately and indignantly tried to pull away from him. “Come on, Lo, you know me? Remember?”

“Oh,” Dark recognized, and put his aura on the top of Logan’s head, his aura lightly searching for something until he found it. The Entity pulled off another aura, almost like a mesh of spell work that kept Logan complacent and unaware of what he was doing, and Dark could practically feel the Host’s magic all over it.

As Dark’s aura subsumed the other aura Logan had a disoriented look to him before his laser focus landed on Orange and he startled in his grip. “Unhand me!”

“Nah, you’re already in deep shit, where would you swim to?” Orange grinned, Logan pressed back into the chair as Orange leaned over him, hands on the chair arms.

“Enough,” Dark cut in, using his aura to rotate back to look at Logan. “So, Mr. Sanders, is there any part of your resume that you weren’t lying on?”

“My distain for disorder and puns,” Logan answered.

Dark moved his hand and Logan felt something like a hand on the front of his throat, phantom claws on the soft flesh of his throat. “You of all people should know how I feel about moles, Thomas.”

“What?” Logan was barely able to still talk without claws sinking into his throat. “My name is Logan.”

The pressure in his throat abated for a brief second, but Logan wasn’t allowed to feel much of anything when Dark scored his aura claws down. Logan cried out, his cheek burning with sharp pain, and it felt wet. The Logical Side presumed it was with his own blood. The panicking part of his brain wanted to call out for Patton or Roman, he was acutely aware he wasn’t wearing his communicator.

“AAHHHHHH!” Logan screamed, and Dark physically grabbed Logan by the throat, pinning him to the chair, a bunch of papers in his hands.

“Thomas F. Sanders, date of birth: April 24, 1989. Gainesville, Florida.” Dark began casually reading off the paper and Logan tried to fight off the wave of palpable fear. Dark had gone looking for Logan and found Thomas instead.

Logan wasn’t sure what was worse. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lie and make Dark believe he really was Thomas . . . and after this was all said and done, hope Dark would toss the papers away and not look deeper into them.

But Dark was always good at spotting lies.

“I am not Thomas,” Logan decided. “He doesn’t exist, Orange, you know my name is not Thomas, do not participate in this pointless charade.”

“Hmm,” Orange hummed, grabbing Logan by the hair and forcing him to look up, “nope, you’re Thomas alright, that dopey optimism, that personality that people can’t help but love!”

“Faksehood!” Logan shouted at Orange. “I am not Thomas.”

Orange slapped Logan on the cheek that was still bleeding. Dark was sitting behind his desk again, the quick change disorienting Logan a bit.

Dark was still looking at the papers, “You never told me you were an actor. A couple Community Playhouse credits in Gainesville, Hot Mikado, ooh, Singing in the Rain. I hate that one.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Orange paused in his sadism to question Dark, his face twisting up in the only Thomas-like display that Logan had ever seen from the other Side.

“I hate actors,” Dark scoffed, balling up an entire page and tossing it into the trash bin. “Wil adores the movie, but Singing is the Rain is about actors, which means I hate it all the more.”

“Harsh,” Orange scoffed. “Bad date?”

Dark glared at Orange, “I’m not going to humor that statement.”

“You know I am not Thomas,” Logan reminded Orange, his anger consuming his fear. “Why are you helping with what I assume will be my death. This will affect you as well.”

“Not as much as you think,” Orange smiled.

“Why are you insisting I’m Thomas?” Logan demanded. “Insisting such is offensive and incognizant.”

“Well unlike the others who want to fight over that name, Princey’s got all those social skills, and Pop’s is an emotional basket case. But you,” Orange tapped Logan on the nose, “have all those memories like going to school, Thomas’s folks, stuff like that. So if anything happens to those pesky little things, Thomas will die. Even if all the others fuse and try, they’ll never have those memories. Even if Princey rehearses until he believes his own performance they can’t bring them back. So if you die, it’s a win-win.”

Logan had been listening to Orange gloat and jeer and he hated that he had the gall to wear Thomas’s face while he said it. So he did something impulsive in his pain and anger, he spat in Orange’s face, moving to punch him but Orange was faster, slamming his fist into Logan’s face.

Over and over again.

The other Side was trying to get at the bloody scratches already present. In the scuffle Logan’s glasses were knocked free and Orange stomped on them, almost like a pained connection, Logan felt it when he heard the frame crack.

“You know, I’m sick and tired of Thomas this and Thomas that. News flash, Teach, he would have hated and been afraid of me. Why should I want to go back to that, to being so thoroughly buried I may as well have now existed to him? The best thing that ever happened to me was when he was broken apart and I was taken away from you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dark cut in, his aura wrapped around one of Orange’s arms. What Logan couldn’t see because of his destroyed glasses, was the knife he’d pulled. “I need him alive for a bit longer and you’ve said your peace.”

“I thought you were going to off him,” Orange scoffed.

“Not quite yet,” Dark flicked his wrists and a Void portal ripped open, forcing Orange from the room.

“So, Logan,” a dark shape moved in front of Logan’s vision again as Dark sat down in front of him. He heard a tearing of paper.

“Regardless of who you were,” Dark clipped what remained of Logan’s glasses to the front of his shirt. “It’s time for you to choose, Sanders. The heroes, or me.”

“I think my decision would have been obvious,” Logan told him. “You and your network are deplorable and I have greatly enjoyed my work in helping to dismantle it.”

Dark clicked his tongue, “Regrettable.”

Logan felt Dark aura tighten around him and the chair like a snake and Logan just braced to get his neck snapped. He hoped it would be quick and he wouldn’t feel it.

To Logan’s mounting tension he was pulled through a Void portal and Dark was bringing him down what seemed to be a dark corridor. Logan had the ability to gaze around and wished that he could see where he was. It looked interesting.

“Trying to figure out where you are,” Dark mused proudly.

“My habit is to obtain information on new places or experiences,” Logan explained.

“Well,” Dark sounded smug, “no need to bother with that tonight.”

At that moment Dark caught movement down one of the tunnels and he threw his aura to scare the creature or person off. Logan tensed when he felt Dark’s aura curl up around him before the Entity struck.

“I hate the rats around here, I swear the magic from that old hag makes them grow bigger by the day,” Dark scoffed in disgust.

“You are going to have me eaten?” Logan asked tensely, fear bubbling back up onto his mind.

“Not by the rats,” Dark corrected. Dark opened a steel door, his aura moving into the cracks to open it from the inside, the rusted gears grinding loudly.

“Finally!” Bim shouted when the door opened, he was polishing his already immaculate scalpels and knives. Dark noted the darker eyes, sharper teeth, and almost sunken eyes. “I’m starving here, Old Man.”

“Yes, I merely had to pick him up for you,” Dark set Logan’s chair down, his hands on his shoulders. “He meets your outrageous standards, I hope.”

Bim looked at Logan and smiled and ravenous excitement, “Oh, what did he do?”

“Does he work or should I slit his throat now and be done with it?” Dark demanded harshly, the door being locked and sealed behind them.

“Yeah, yeah, just let me get the table open,” Bim said, and Logan heard the clicking of metal, his heart was racing.

“Well Sanders, I look forward to seeing which hero is missing in the coming weeks,” Dark smiled as he whispered quietly into Logan’s ears, patting him once on his shoulder.

Logan felt Dark’s aura grab him and began fighting it, trying to reach for anything but Dark dropped him onto a metal table. His wrists locked into a tight metal cuff at the top and his ankles locked into a similar cuff at the bottom. He had almost no room to struggle.

“Do not leave evidence,” Dark ordered his progeny. “The heroes will come looking for this one.”

“Shit, it’s like this is my first rodeo,” Bim scoffed.

“I mean it, be responsible,” Dark ordered and Logan heard the Void being ripped open, leaving him alone with Bim.

[eternal-love-song]

Unleashed Aggression

"Aww, you don't want to take out your aggression on me, Daddy?" Toga asked with that same sly smile she used to get what she wanted.

He did want to take his aggression out on her. That was the problem.

Toga x OC male

[Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Choking, Bondage, Gags, Spanking, Biting, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Sadism, Masochism, Humiliation, Daddy Kink, Electric Play]

This story is based on A Slightly Bitterly Love Story by @heavenly-dio In chapter 5 of that story, I saw an opportunity for smut and I look it. If you're curious about the character of Shogeki, I encourage you to check out that story as it is genuinely fantastic!

Shogeki felt like a live wire in the worst of ways. Despite everything that he'd done that day, the fighting, the passing out, the shower, nothing had made a dent in his bad mood. He'd had days like this before, of course. Days when all he wanted, all he needed, was to tear something apart to release all his pent up aggression. But he'd been trying to do that all day and hadn't succeeded one bit.

The bitch wasn't helping.

"Stay away from me you psycho! Back off!" He was not in the mood to deal with her damn grabby hands. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her. Hell, he was barely in the mood to deal with himself at this point, but he doubted she would let him sleep, which was the only effective way he had of not dealing with anything for a few hours. 

God, he was tired. He wanted to ask Sakana to knock him the hell out again. He wanted to... he needed to stop thinking about this. Right now. 

It's not that he was getting more angry, exactly, more that it was just slowly circling in his mind. The tension didn't go away just because he was pretending that he didn't want to unleash a charge on this entire building. And hell, maybe he would have taken a chance to unleash a few into the new lock on his room and see how much it could take. He wouldn't mind exhausting himself and passing out if that was what it all came to. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to do that with her around.

No, that's not true. Yesterday, he might have gone ahead and done it anyway if he'd been in this type of mood. He couldn't afford to do it while he was bleeding and she had already rushed him once, so there was no way to even pretend that it wouldn't be a problem. And giving Toga himself as a weapon was not an acceptable consequence of his anger, not in any sense of the word.

The problem when he was this angry was that everything looped back around to make him more angry. He couldn't stop picturing the humming in his blood like electricity waiting to leap off of him, couldn't stop imaging reaching out to whatever was close to him and just...

"Aww, you don't want to take out your aggression on me, Daddy?" Toga asked with that same sly smile she used to get what she wanted.

He did want to take his aggression out on her. That was the problem.

Then again, was that a problem? He'd damn near killed her already to keep her in line and no one had questioned him. Hell, no one would question him. She was a villain. She was a complete psycho. No matter what he did to her, no one would bat much of an eye. (He ignored the part of his brain that tried to contradict that. Drowned it out with the static sounds of his anger and the barely repressed tension in his muscles.)

She had been baiting him since day one. Attacking him, calling him her boyfriend, sleeping naked... she practically begged him to lose control every minute of every day. So fine. Shogeki would take the bait.

He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, startling her so much that she dropped his phone, her eyes widening as they turned to him. She froze like a dear in headlights and there was something in her eyes very close to fear. And fuck, part of him hated himself for it and the rest... the rest of him already wanted to squeeze and see what came next. He had started to think that she was too crazy to be afraid but there was something very satisfying about putting that look on her face when nothing else had so far.

"Is that what you want?" he asked her. The part of him that was trying to keep calm acknowledged that there was a world of difference between speaking and growling, but he wasn't actually able to reign himself in enough to be certain of which he'd done. "You want me to take my aggression out on you?"

He should have expected the shift. Should have expected that fearful expression to slide into something smug and teasing, should have expected the way she licked her lips as she looked at him, should have expected the way her breathing picked up like a bitch in heat. He should have expected the way it pissed him off even more. His fingers twitched around her neck and he tried very hard not to move before he was ready, not willing to let her control him via his anger. 

"Gonna punish me, Daddy?" she asked in a teasing tone. One of her hands rested on his wrist, the other reaching toward him in a sensual manner, sliding up his arm. What she thought was sensual, at least. All he found it was annoying. That cutesy act of hers got real old, real fast. "Come on, Daddy. Let's see what you got."

He squeezed. It was so abrupt that he actually cut off her words and her hands grabbed hold of him where they rested on his arm as if to pull him away, but she stopped. The surprised look on her face melted into a smile. The smile melted into something more...hungry. She tried to lung at him and he choke slammed her to the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he shocked her enough that her limbs spasmed.

He would be damned if he let her have any control in this. He got enough of her taunting and teasing when he was in a normal mood, if she continued to do it now, he just might kill her. The fact that he had a difficult time reminding himself why he shouldn't just kill her was a testament to his current mood. 

He flipped her over, pushing her face into the ground and pulling her arms behind her. He pushed his knee into her back to hold her in place as he tied her arms together with the sheets. It wouldn't be the strongest hold, but it would do for now. She was struggling beneath him, but he only pressed his knee into her harder. He leaned down next to her ear. "You aren't in control here," he growled.

"Aki-chan gonna show me who's boss?" she asked as she squirmed beneath him. He was getting tired of that taunting tone of hers.

"I'm gonna show you how powerless you really are," he told her. He shoved her face into the bed, holding it at an angle as he leaned closer to her neck, doing the one thing he knew she'd wanted to do to him the whole time; he bit her. He sank his teeth into her hard, adding a small electric jolt to the motion to further vent his frustration. The small cry that she let out was high pitched and pained. It was more gratifying than he thought it would be. Unfortunately, she followed it up with such wanton moaning that he couldn't tell if she was really that into it or if she was just doing it to piss him off. Probably both, knowing her.

It pissed him off either way. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her head back until he saw her expression twist into something strained and uncomfortable, even as her eyes were still glazed with lust. "What does it take to shut you up?"

"Maybe if you gave me something to do with my mouth, Daddy?" she responded immediately. He shoved her face back down into the bed to muffle her. There was no way he was putting any part of himself into her mouth. Not only did he not trust her as far as he could throw her, but he really didn't want to give her the satisfaction. But if she she really wanted something she could do with her mouth...

"Alright, Toga. I have something for you," he said. She wouldn't be able to see the grin on his face, but it was just as well. She was still squirming beneath him and if she saw his expression, it would only make her more excited. Everything made her more excited and her excitement only increased his aggravation. 

Good thing he was already taking his aggression out on her.

He reached for his pillows, pulling off the pillow cases while he pressed his weight onto her further to keep her in place. He balled up one pillow case and shoved it into her mouth, then tied the other around her head to keep the first in place. He was tired of her mouth and at this point he was sure he wouldn't enjoy this unless he stopped having to hear it.

She actually made a pretty good sight like this, tied and gagged and under his knee. It was almost peaceful to have this moment of silent. Almost, because she was still thrashing around on his bed. He was still two steps away from tying one of these sheets around her neck and stringing her up. But there were easier, more satisfying and less consequence filled ways to vent his anger on her.

He eased off of her back and flipped her over, surprised and pleased to see actual displeasure on her face. Most likely she was only pouting, but the thought that he had managed to do something she didn't like was incredibly enjoyable. He grinned, spreading her thighs and pinning them down with his knees. He placed one hand on her throat and one beside her head, holding up his weight as he towered over her. 

"What's wrong? Got something to say?" he taunted. She tried to surge up toward him but didn't have the leverage to do so and he squeezed her neck once in warning. He reached down to pull up her shirt, exposing her chest, and then pulling up her bra right after. He had bothered to look at her much the last time, but she actually had a nice body. Her breast were shapely and soft, her hips were enticing, she wasn't bad to look at when she was still for two fucking seconds. He looked up and was surprised to see Toga's face becoming slightly flushed. 

"This is what you wanted, right?" He asked. "You've been throwing yourself at me since we met, about time I decided to catch you, isn't you?"

He didn't bother trying to decipher whatever muffled response she was making. Instead, he reached out to take hold of her nipples and twisted them sharply, taking pleasure in the way her body jumped beneath him. She inhaled sharply through her nose before her breathing picked up altogether and she straining beneath him again. "I bet you like this, don't you, you psycho?" He pinched them both tightly and listening to the increase in her muffled noise. He wondered whether it was pleasure or pain, was tempted to ask her, but unwilling to suffer whatever she would say if he gave her the chance. He didn't want her to ruin this for him.

Like this, she was ten times more bearable. Quiet, docile, he might even admit pretty. The flush on her face and the gag in her mouth was a nice touch. "I think I might have a use for you after all." He released her nipples, letting his hands slid down her body until he reached her skirt, slipping his hands beneath it and the waist band of her panties. He moved his legs so that he could toss the clothes off of her. Toga was dripping wet, proving his theory that she was getting off on this. The scent of her arousal was strong and as soon as she was exposed she began thrusting her hips toward him in a needy manner.

"You don't have any standards for yourself, do you?" He asked her, flicking her clit and watching as her legs tried to close. He had to press his knees harder into her thighs to keep her in place. He laughed, then he kept laughing as he pinched her clit and saw her face scrunch up in pain. There was more muffled sound from her, but it was easy to ignore. "What? Didn't you want me to punish you?" He shove two fingers into her, almost amazed at how easily she took them. She was so wet there was barely resistance at all and her walls tightened around his fingers immediately. "You're a fucking glutton for punishment." 

Shogeki leaned forward and bit her nipple, then licked a stripe along the side of her breast and bit harder. She was shaking, her hips bucking toward him as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her cunt was greedy for him, sucking his fingers into her warm embrace, tightening every time he tried to pull out. He could imagine it would feel great around his cock, even if she didn't really deserve it. He continued to leave bites all over her breast, continued to pump his fingers into her just to watch as her body quivered.

He pulled his fingers out before she could come and he heard the sound of frustration she made, even as it was muffled. He laughed at her frustration, stroking her cheek before letting his hand wrap around her neck again and squeezing slowly. "Didn't I tell you that you aren't in control here?" He reached between them and slapped his hand against her cunt, relishing in her full body jerk. "This isn't about you." He slapped her again, enjoying the sound of the wet smack and watching her cunt twitch beneath his hand. "And you don't get to dictate what happens here." 

She was breathing hard, struggling beneath him so much that he thought she might actual be trying to buck him off. She was glaring at him and the look of frustration was the most beautiful expression that he had ever seen on her face. 

"Do you want to come?" he asked in mocking tone, twisting one of her nipples as he bit down on her throat. Her body was thrashing and her muffled sounds were startling to sound like sobs as he slapped his hand against her cunt harder. "I'm not gonna stop you," he told her, picking another spot on one of her breast and biting it as he pinched her other nipple. "Come on, Toga." He grabbed her hair, twisting it and pulling her head back. "You want to come, right?" He pushed his knees into her thighs harder, forcing her legs to spread wider. "You want your Daddy to fucking punish you, right?" He pinch her clit hard and she sobbed. There were tears in her eyes, which could easily be from pleasure or pain, and the thought just encouraged him to go harder. "Then fucking come you psycho bitch!" He let another shock roll from his fingertips into her cunt, her body jerking hard. 

He felt the rush of wetness surrounding his fingers as she came, pulling back enough to watch as her cunt twitched and spasmed. He listened to her muffled sobs and watched the tears as they poured down her face. He gradually slowed his movements before he pulled his fingers out of her, finally starting to feel some of the angry energy easing within him. 

He wasn't done with her yet. He still had some frustration that he wanted to work out. And really, if he'd gone this far, why stop now?

"Well, Toga, was that what you had in mind when you asked me to take my aggression out on you?" Shogeki asked. He moved off of her, holding her head up by her hair and flipping her over. He pushed her face down and pulled her hips up, taking a moment to admire the sight while she wasn't looking. She made another muffled sound and he answered by slapping her ass hard. "Is that a complaint?" He slapped the other cheek. "Let me remind you that your opinion doesn't matter."

He opened his pants with one hand, pulling them halfway down his thighs. She tried to look at him over her shoulder and he forced her head back down into the bed. "Don't fucking look at me," he growled. "I don't even want to think about you, right now."

He pulled her thighs further apart, lined himself up, and shoved forward into her. She cried out, the sound long and low behind her gag. She was warm and tight around him, and he let out a pleased groan that he turned into a growl. He grabbed hold of her restrained arms, using them as leverage as he began to thrust in and out of her. "Fuuuuck," the word was dragged out of him and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of her around him. He ground his teeth just afterward, annoyed with himself for enjoying this. He tighened his grip on her arms, reaching around her to grab one of her breast in a painful vice, and set a punishing pace with his thrust. "You have... no idea... how fucking... fucking furious...fuck!" He ground out the words between thrust.

He slapped his hand against her ass to vent his sudden rage. When it failed to calm him at all, he pulled her head up by her hair and bit her neck. She jerked in his hold, but the muffled sound she made wasn't as satisfying as it was earlier. He growled in her ear, gripping her hair tighter before lifting his other hand and pulling the make shift gag off of her.

"Harder, Daddy!" she moaned wantonly. Of course that would be the first thing she said to him. Of fucking course. He pushed her face back down in disgust. "That's right. Just like that, Daddy! Show me what a bad girl I am!"

"That's the first fucking thing you have to say?" he growled. He pushed her face into the bed harder as if he would suffocate her, but she managed to turn her head to the side to respond.

"What did... you want... me to say... Aki-chan?" she asked between panting breaths. She moaned as he thrust particularly hard, trying to push her hips back towards him but barely having the leverage to do so. Instead, she widened her legs and lifted her hips even more. "Oh, Daddy, it hurts! Please, stop. Don't be so rough!"

His hand moved from her hair to throat, pulling her body up against him and squeezing. "I fucking... hate you... psycho bitch!" He breathed into her ear.

Her voice was a rasp as she answered. "Hate me harder, Aki-chan!"

He continued to thrust into her, closing his hand around her throat tighter. He closed his eyes as he felt himself getting close, trying to pretend that it wasn't Toga he was repeatedly sinking into. That it wasn't Toga squeezing around him, moaning beneath him even as he made it very difficult for her to do so. And just when he felt himself on the edge...

"Daddy, please!" she gasped.

"Fuck!" he pushed her away from him, pulling out in time to cum all over her backside and just barely remembering to release his hold on her neck. There was a prolonged moment of pure bliss, the anger draining out of him as he caught his breath. 

Then the moment passed and he opened his eyes and looked down at Toga. She was panting and looking at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were bright with excitement and he could see her throat already starting to bruise. She looked, if possible, even more obsessed with him than she had before. He covered his face with his arm. "Shit."

This was gonna be so much more trouble than it was worth.

[slash-em-up]

Re-Assessing Presuppositions pt. 1: The Collector x Reader

First off; this is a monster of a fic. It’s around 3.5k and I don’t think I’ve ever written something this large - SO LARGE TUMBLR WONT LET ME PUT IT ALL IN ONE POST!!

So this is going to be a two-parter.

Secondly, this deals with a lot of INCORRECT assumptions about BDSM, M/F power dynamics, sexuality in general, and homosexuality. I think we’re all pretty aware that Asa has some #issues with masculine identity, and that comes into play here. So take everything said with a grain of salt.

Huge huge HUGE THANK YOU to @voorheehees and @princessprofanity for their beta reading and big-brain ideas about Asa’s book club, respectively.

Enjoy!!!

*********************************

Mary-Ellen rolled her eye as Gladys and Marlene giggled on the couch, whispering and gasping as they poured over their recommendation for the next Oak Grove Bookclub selection.

This happened every time they ended their current selection, and frankly Mary-Ellen was getting tired of it. They thought that just because they talked the group into reading that dreadful ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ book that it was their solemn duty to provide something equally as salacious for the next get-together.

Mary-Ellen huffed again and clutched her ‘Ms. Marple’ book a bit closer to her chest. Not this time, not if she had to stand right up and filibuster until they caved.

Marlene’s husband was falling asleep beside her; but she knew the former lawyer might protest that by using her walker to stand on she wasn’t technically following the rules of a filibuster – but frankly screw him. She only had so many years left to live and she wasn’t going to waste whatever time she had left reading that trash.

She perked up as the door to the community center opened and the youngest member of their little club walked in to the room.

Asa Emory was probably the person most likely to protest another smutty novel, next to herself; so she was very glad he decided to show up to the meeting.

After he pursued the selection of baked goods laid out on the center table (grabbing one of Lydia’s walnut blondies – smart man) he took the seat on the couch next to Mary-Ellen.

“Hello honey. How are you today?”

The large man turned slightly in his seat and offered her a brief grin.

“I’m doing fine Mary-Ellen, thank you. How’s your hip?”

Mary-Ellen sighed and leaned back.

“Never get old, honey. It’s not worth the social security check.”

Asa hummed in the back of his throat, tilting his head towards her with a teasing glint in his unique eyes.

“I’ll do my best.”

He set the book he’d had tucked under his arm onto the table, taking a large bite of the blondie he held.

Smiling, Mary-Ellen noted that he’d brought an older mystery novel as well.

Seeing her interest, Asa swallowed his mouthful and offered “Y/N picked it.”

A wrinkled hand rose and patted the solid knee next to her own arthritic one.

“I knew I liked them for a reason.”

Breaking the calm, Marlene clapped her hands together to get the rooms attention – pulling her husband from his slumber with a jolt.

“Hello everyone! Thank you for joining us for the fifth Oak Grove Bookclub content selection meeting!”

A polite smattering of applause echoed across the space.

“Now, I know there are so many wonderful choices out there, so lets get started with the book pitches!”

She looked knowingly over to Gladys.

“Gladys, would you care to start us off?”

Mary-Ellen groaned, making Asa huff in amusement next to her.

“Thank you so much Marlene! First, lets all have a moment of silence for our dear Robert, who we lost to prostate cancer last month.”

A murmur of assent rose from the group as they nodded or crossed themselves in remembrance of their lost member.

“In his honor, Marlene and I have chosen this book – ‘Beg for It’ by Megan Hart. An erotic story about two business people in a BDSM relationship where the man is the submissive!”

“Gladys! Stop using all those strange words, you know I wasn’t here when you read that ‘Fifty Shades of whatever’ book!”

Gladys sniffed.

“It means ‘Bondage, Domination, Sadism, and Masochism. Get with the times Albert.”

Mary-Ellen saw this as her opportunity to pipe up.

“I don’t like it when we read these smutty novels. It’s not what I joined this Bookclub for at all! If I wanted to read about two people doing naughty things, I would go over to Harriet’s house and read Earls ‘Hustler’ magazines!”

“Hey!”

“Don’t be such a prude Mary-Ellen, we’re all adults here. And quite frankly reading that other book helped Marvin and I try some things we hadn’t thought to try in our sixty years together!”

Someone laughed loudly.

“Which was all well and good until Marv’s back gave out!”

“Hush, Gloria!”

“All I’m saying is that we should be reading something relatable.”

“Yeah, if anyone can get anything out of those horn-dog books it’ll be Asa! At least he and Y/N have a better chance of getting through it without needing to stop for a pill-break!”

“Well then, lets ask Asa! How about it sweetie? Want to get some tips for the bedroom?”

Asa looked like he was going to implode or run out the door – meaning he looked closer to a statue than a man – back straight as a board, and gripping his leg tight enough to make his knuckles go white.

He cleared his throat.

“We’re fine, thank you.”

Marlene spoke up –

“So like a man - as long as they’re getting themselves taken care of they’re perfectly content to leave everything else alone.”

“Asa, have you asked Y/N if they’d like to mix things up in the bedroom?”

“Carl, you can’t ask people that!”

“Whaaat? I’m too old to be shy. And when Dorothy is on top I get a free prostate exam!”

This comment was met with several screeches and hoots from the room; but Asa remained quiet.

He stood suddenly, and grabbed his book.

“I’m sorry, I have to leave. Please let me know what the final decision is. My vote is for whatever Mary-Ellen picks.”

***************************

Asa walked back to the house slowly, deep in thought about the situation he’d just departed from.

In all honesty, he wished he’d left sooner – never even heard the lies and slander about male pleasure and bedroom power dynamics.

He liked the members of the book club well enough – as much as he liked anyone who wouldn’t be joining his collection, he supposed; but they were wrong on this. They had to be.

For all that the occasional victim would yell and scream abuse while he was perfecting them, he knew the truth. Only homosexuals could feel pleasure from anal penetration – and he definitely wasn’t a homosexual. His father had made sure of that.

And he’d gotten so lucky with you. Not only were they accepting of his ‘hobby’; but they never tried to undermine his authority in the bedroom. Even when things got more heated than normal – like when you had purchased that lovely lingerie several weeks ago – Asa was assured that he’d be the one calling the shots, metaphorically.

Of course he’d heard people talk about their predilections before – woman on top, tying up your partner, and most recently pegging - but as long as you stayed where you belonged, there was no reason to let this upset him any further.

He nodded succinctly to himself as he strode up the stairs and turned the key to your house.

‘GET ON YOUR KNEES GET ON YOUR KNEES GET ON YOUR KNEES, BABY JUST GET ON YOUR KNEES’

… Or not.

**********************************

“Asa?”

You poked your head out of the dining room where you’d been dusting. Enjoying some alone time to play the pop music you knew Asa didn’t enjoy.

You’d thought you’d heard him enter, but then the door slammed…

You looked out the window as the green Buick Asa drove screeched out of the driveway and took off towards town.

‘Guess he must have forgotten something.’

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Are we torturing Henry now? Lemme jump on the bandwagon- Let's put him through what he did to countless others, shall we? *puts him in a springlock suit, which snaps on him immediately* take that, b i t c h

"Do you think that SCARES me, dear Anon?" He held an arm out for the Anon to put on the suit. "I must admit. I have always been quite curious about what death and such agony must feel like. And while I deeply despise the fact that it is one of you who will put this onto me, I would say the benefits would outweigh the negatives." His breath had gotten a bit unsteady, the anticipation was worse than the actual event could ever be. "I know exactly what will happen. I build it to happen that way." Shortly he moved his hands. "The pain is necessary. The blood loss too. I have not built these suits out of some kind of sadism. Despite what you may think, I am not sick, there are simply two key elements that bind a soul to a new body. One is the blood, the carrier of the soul itself, one is to experience pain, to such degree that it will make you want to flee the body you own. But of course, there is a third- and perhaps more- element that is required for a soul to stay behind. Something children seemingly have, yet adults have started to lack... even though there are sightings and talks of adult spirits roaming, as common as stories about children. What is it these adults need? Is it anger? Not all the children were angry. Quite frankly, when I looked into their eyes, all I saw was fear. But perhaps children do not need that, as they are still growing into the body, a body that will change rapidly eventually, perhaps the soul is more loose and easily attachable again due to this? An adult... do they need an overpowering urge to stay?"He himself took the head into his hands and paused for another moment, smiling a bit. "William went through this way too often for me to even admit that it will hurt. If that childmind can take it... but finally I can satisfy this awful interest of mine. Question though, will this kill me, will I merge with the suit or will this ask be not even long enough for either of those two things to occur?"The pause was filled with silence. "... I suppose I should enjoy the adrenaline that I will get out of it."With that he slipped on the head and changed his stance, leaning down to the Anon in a smooth bow, laughing, his voice deeper than normal. "Hey there my dear friend. Today's show will be quite special, just for you!" For a moment neither moved, until the Anon reached out to snap the lock. The pain hit in an instant, in a blinding fashion, ripping right through the side of his neck, not hitting anything vital, but certainly exposing some important nerves. Henry was standing up straight again- if you could call it standing and not the mere reaction of all his muscles tensing up within a second. Naturally his violent convulsing triggered all the other locks inside, in some sort of twisted domino effect. Metal through his cheeks, right beside his spine, snapping and snapping leaving trails of fire in his arms, pain so intense it wandered with the bloodstream around the full body. The sloshing sound of the stomach must have been the worst as the flesh was ripped open and pinned down, the rapid blood loss partially prevented by the cold metal blocking the wounds, unmoving. It wasn't quite clear if Henry simply didn't scream or was merely incapable to, his lungs slightly punctured and throat cut just enough that making noise would be only a source of more pain. Every part of him was shivering as he went down, his vision completely white. Oh, he wouldn't die. Not yet, not even soon. The brain would overload itself, but not pass out, at least if he did not fail in his design. It would WANT to shut off, but at the same time, shutting off would be death. The brain had plenty of tricks to deal with agony. Adrenaline.Even endorphin.All desperate to shut it down, shut down the screaming nerves signaling impending doom. It was at a point where Henry couldn't be sure if he was still breathing of just feeling rhythmical waves of pain down his throat and in his chest. But the first wave passed, the shock leaving his body to be almost numb in certain places- not too much of a relief, but he was able to see again. Staring at the Anon. No, he couldn't talk. But there was one thing he could do. Oh, everything seemed to be glowing. He could feel every inch of himself, every part that made his body and the suit, as though it was one. It began quiet, more as coughing. Then it was clearer. He laughed. His laughter turned from shaky to almost hysterical. For once all of his thoughts had been erased as he slowly forced himself back up, the intensity of the pain in each part of him feeling eerily similar to music, music made with screams. As he towered, it was as though his legs had been dipped in lava and worms made out of it were eating through him. That didn't matter. Swaying on the spot he looked down at the being, his laughter slowing down.He had no way of telling the being that being like this was a gift. What kind of ascension it truly was, being in this new, better body.Now, NOTHING could harm him anymore.Now, NOBODY could stop him anymore. How would you make that feeling understandable to someone who still had to fear death and hide from the monster in their closet?There were no proper thoughts, not yet, but they would return. Henry lunged forward, the abrupt movement sending more spikes of pain through every bit of him, blinding him once more completely to everything around him. It took a few seconds before he could see again. The Anon was crushed under his paw and heavy weight. Grey smoke escaped from the damaged parts as it slowly evaporated. Slowly Henry sat up, leaning against... something. Anything. Suddenly tired like never before. Slowly he closed his eyes, his shaking and shivering being the only signs of life from him. And it would stay that way. For quite a while.

[euphoriacafe]

ALL IN MY HEAD

Genre [Rating] : Angst, Mature, Romantic, Mysterious

Author: K.HS

Pairing: BTS x Reader

Warning: Mention of suicide, breath play, slapping, face fucking, cum play, degrading names, overstimulation, Sadism, Cussing, exhibitionism, (POV Switches)

Summary: No matter what you do inside of life, every action you make creates another path for you whether you like it or not.

Authors Notes: Okay, stay with me here. It will come off very confusing at first BUT as tiring as it sounds it will make your brain run...sort of like game... I hope you enjoy. 

Masterlist . Short Series | 1 | 2 | 3 |

The sun was shining brightly through your lace curtains as you fluttered your eyes open worn out. You were on the edge of your bed holding the book ‘ Milk and Honey ’ in your hand. You couldn’t remember why and when you started to read the book, but you felt your body just want to rest a bit longer. As you sat up slowly you held the back of your neck in pain from sleeping wrong. The cool breeze blew into your room from the white window; the birds chirping and whistling as they flew around outside. Taking a deep breath the smell of vanilla filled the air mixing with the freshly cut flowers that laid beside your bed.

Getting out of your bed you bent down a few inches to smell the Chocolate Cosmos (REAL FLOWER) the scent filled you with warmth and relaxation. A soft knock was at the door, snapping your head around to see a older female. Making your heart drop as you laid eyes upon your older sister (Y/S/N). You couldn’t exactly tell if you were dreaming or if this was reality... as if her accident never happened. Your eyes wide and your soft lips parted in disbelief as you blinked quickly. (Y/S/N) looked at you tilting her head confused yet with the softest smile that showed affection and sweetness almost as if she was mother earth herself.

“What?” (Y/S/N) spoke quietly with a small grin.

“Do I have something on my face?” She asked walking towards your mirror looking at herself.

“N-nothing… there isn’t anything on you.” Your words were quiet yet unsure.

As your sister turned towards you noticing the tears were at the corner of your eyes each step following with curiosity. She towered over you and softly wiped your tear with her sweater sleeve “I made breakfast for you and me here and get dress for school.” She gave her cheerful box smile and hurriedly left the room closing the door. You sat down the edge of the bed as you looked down at your hand on your lap and clutching your heart with the other hand. This puzzled you a bit you could’ve sworn that she passed away from the tragic train accident.

Was that all just a dream or was this just another chance for you. The words went through your head nonstop as you thought about it. You turned your head to the right on the small white little chair was a long black coat, black pants, and a white turtle neck sweater. Grabbing it slowly as you felt the material against your fingers a great sense of pain pinched your heart harshly that all you could do is wait for it to stop thinking. Slowly undressing yourself your body started to feel light and changed into the neatly stacked clothes from the chair.

-Time skip- 

You walked out of the restroom towards the kitchen were a small wooden table were two plates stayed filled with food on it. “I’m making tea right now I will be finally able to take you to school.” She chirped waiting for the water to warm up. You sat down at the table looking around as it looked different to you. “We can finally,” Your sister was cut off by a ring. Her head turned to the small iPhone on the counter quickly picking it up. She looked down regretfully and turned off the stove muttering a small curse word towards herself. She answered the phone respectfully and couldn’t bare to look at you. “Yes sir... I understand I’ll be there right now...yes sir... okay.” Her voice cold at the end of the call. Putting the phone down.

“Mr. Jun wants me to go to the office early eat up and I’ll see you later tonight.” (Y/S/N) snatched her bag and coat off the counter jogging towards the front door slamming it behind her.

Everything in the kitchen felt cold slouching a bit in the chair this what it was like for you everyday. She left to the office early and wouldn’t come back home until 2 in the morning. 

This is how you remember that day she died the feeling was all to familiar not bothering to eat. You stood up pushing the chair in and walked to the front door slowly twisting the knob slowly to be exposed to another room. This was definitely a dream, you were inside the hallway to the front door and then all of sudden you stepped foot inside of the hall way of your college you were attending.

The grand hall was huge as people walked around and others stood to talk to one another. Everything moved quick... a little bit too quick for your taste if anything. You looked around until you noticed a tall man with fair skin came up to you. It was the one and only best friend Namjoon he was a Senior at this college. You both went way back from middle school and he always stayed your friend. He had a big smile plastered on his face as his dimple showed you did your usual poking it sweetly.

“You’re early, you usually never come before 12.” Namjoon spoke bluntly.

He hugged you tightly. “Yoongi and Jungkook are waiting for us at the garden come on!” He cheered not giving you any time to decide whether or not to go with him. As Namjoon locked both of your arms together he lead you to the back door for the building to reveal a huge maze garden with the art kids painting it on the outlines. “Come on slow poke!” As he dragged you he let go of your hand to step inside and walk by himself.

You didn’t know what to do, as you stepped in trying to call out for him “Namjoon... KIM NAMJOON THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” You yelled you were about to turn left until a cold yet soft hand pulled you right and close to their body. You turned to see Min Yoongi- he smiled as he softly pecked your cheek. “Well hello pretty lady, are you lost?” He joked holding you close by your hips. Now this was definitely a dream.

[halloweenvalentine1997]

it's early November. city's dead. I haven't slept in a couple of weeks. the sky sheds its clouds, rainwater sluices down my face. it falls in subtle droplets, into my eyes, hollow sockets in my upturned face. my mouth craves hydration, it's dry. ghosts of unrequited love cry on the street corners, skin cut from paper flowers, petals sharp as lust. I am a haunt in a haunted city. the concrete serves as an ashtray, a wastebasket. I bite my lips. my high-heeled boots sound like explosives as I traipse the sidewalks, finding messages in the signs, finding a silhouette of a girl screaming in a reflective window. I am her shadow, aimless and clawing at a cage. leaves crunch beneath my boots. I pass the hamburger joint on Third avenue. a homeless woman with grey hair and stoned eyes glimpses at my boots, fails at a disapproving scowl. around here, wearing high heels with nylons means you're a tramp, even if your slut-shamer doesn't know your name. I cross the highway overpass. cars dash west and east on the edges of my blurred vision. something's off. everything is deserted and misanthropes are fighting yet another futile war. some dare to call themselves nihilists, the belief that life is pointless. I see a point in existing as time ensues. there's more to life than ashes and purgatories. I will live and strive for goals, even if the clocks shatter and the church bells clang loud and clear to a faint and distant tinkle to a hushed silence. the altar will bleed. cities will perish. my name is Vivica Salem. I am eighteen. I am gasping for air up the stairs to room 213, a dreadfully drab room in a subsidized housing complex. once inside, I choke on the stale smoke, swimming, floating in a suffocating sea of potential cancer and voices I can't understand. I am drowning, head held and forced to inhale carbon monoxide. skulls are whispering, they're attached to skeletons with some skin still left, covertly plotting my journey across the border. I slide the window open. poison drifts out and fades in the dim moon. I try to see something pretty, like a rainbow or a sunset, behind my closed eyelids. the dark behind my eyelids. a quilt gently covering me, excluding the following: sadism. malice. hate. I have no energy for it. just want to collapse in the remains of bluebells scattered along the horizons of hillsides. a moor aglitter with snowflakes as shimmery as diamonds, crystallized frost. the panic attack starts in the pit of my stomach, a tide of discomfort approaching my brain. volts of sickness, of sleep-deprived psychosis, wash over me to bleach out the endorphines. bangs ricochet off the corners of the ceiling. sonatas blend with choruses from an angry female vocalist. songs fill my head. the dark omits the light. I am just a shadow of someone deceased. diseased. my parents want nothing to do with me, but they're the only people I can turn to when the witching hour occurs at night. I can't spend another minute in this room, choking, smoking, being alone. I shove a pile of books as well as a composition journal into a messenger bag, the one I lugged around in 9th grade. my shoulder pained from the weight of textbooks. history drags me down. I slide the key ring onto my wrist, step into the hall, practically slamming the door behind me. the stairs lead down to the first floor. a TV blares from a wall in the sitting room. a group of men stare at bad media. some stare into space, too numb to change their lives. the phone rests on a side table next to the couch attached to a cord. it slides out of my trembling hand and clatters to the floor. but it doesn't break. the dial tone hums monotonously. I punch in the number to the house I failed to grow up in. it doesn't ring, just cuts to a recording telling me I am calling long-distance and that charges apply. It must be a total bullshit hallucination, but it's been doing that for awhile. perhaps it's a sign that they want to completely disown me. so I wouldn't be known as their daughter. I am, in their eyes, an unstable mess, the nightmare they conceived. mom told me she wished I'd never been born. I am ten minutes away from them via car. the security guard who sits by the door reading crime novels all day allows me to use her cell phone to reach my mom. mom agrees to pick me up. I go outside to wait. I sit on the bench overlooking the parking lot, the cheap cars, the destitute night. I expel smoke through my nostrils. my fingers turn yellow. grit gathers under my nails. mom arrives. I can't articulate my feelings to her; she doesn't accept my answers, or lack thereof. the car ambles up the hill, turns the corner on 25th and Post and down another busy main street before it slides to an abrupt stop in the driveway. there is a stark and hushed eerieness to the neighborhood. it reminds me of the silence, the grief flowing from the eyes of mourners during a funeral service. black veils fluttering in the wind, birds twittering in the trees. we ascend the steps to the front door of the house. I enter the living room. during my excruciating, vague existence in this house, it had much more of a life, an implication that it is inhabited by people who care. now, I sense a callous cold just by observing the interior. there is no carpet. hardwood creaks under my feet. just like it always did when I paced the rooms in the dark, an insomniac, tongue doused in caffeinated coffee. the dining room feels empty. the wooden chest that contained antique dishes and a portrait of a stern great-grandmother as a young girl, is against another wall. I peer through the glass and into the contemptuous, dour, truly Victorian gaze of Grandma Mildred. she looks to be about nine years old in the portrait. she bears a slight resemblance to my younger sister, Christine. Christine is sixteen and a spoiled, self-indulgent nightmare. luckily, she is hiding with the Twitt family, possibly watching the ABC Family network on their fancy TV. and she's possibly enjoying the luxury of having friends. the Twitts have three daughters. friends. truthfully, I never craved such a presence. people lie through their teeth. lips part to spew filth and sabotage me in a disagreement. I used to cry about it but now I don't care. before my thoughts can run riot and make me lose myself any further, mom calls me into the kitchen. I need to eat. I'm too thin and my bones feel brittle. I put a mac and cheese dinner in the microwave. I am starving unintentionally. I just can't feel hunger right now... and then I take in the sight of mom. she looks tired and thin herself, but far from sickly. her eyes are suddenly vivid and blue, but vacancy prevails. her hair, a dark red, is styled in a trim similar to mine. my hair is mistaken for "ginger" by colorblind acquaintances and by colorblind strangers. it is a strawberry blonde, and it's hanging in my eyes. I cannot stop screaming at mom who is pathetic and playing the victim. just like I was and used to do. my voice raises, I'm incoherent and can't tell her that I don't want to be alone in that morbid $250 room with dreams littering the dirty carpet. I am stalked by men, leered at, and I have scared off potential sex offenders. but something could go wrong. my heart could always stop and I can't see her grieving for me. not that I expect her to... my eyes widen when I notice all pictures of me are missing. my infancy, my school pictures, my forced smiles for one of my dad's cameras. they have stored them somewhere, left them to collect lint, dust and decay. the professionally photographed portrait of my sister with her ballet class is displayed on the CD shelf, next to the TV that's always on. I turn it off, mumbling "shut up" at the dumb show on the screen as my thumb presses the POWER button. another picture of Christine is on a side table by the window. she's laying on her stomach in the grass, wearing her drill team outfit , and smiling innocently, but only I see beyond that. even while frozen in a frame, she seems to be mocking me from inside it. my dad always wanted to shelter her and shut me out in the mist. sometimes, he would even lock me out of the house, regardless of the weather. when dad emerges from the computer room, he says he has called the mental health professionals. they are coming to the house to send me away, to call me "gravely disabled&" and incompetent. I lose all rationality. my composure crumbles, resilient stone reduced to useless dust. next thing I know, we're all in the living room. I am posturing at my father. I push him, not wanting to inflict any true damage, really. he doesn't fall. he has no right to call the system on me! I'M AN ADULT! but maybe I do need a place to go to regain my well-being. the mental health professionals enter the house to tell me I'm to get in the ambulance parked across the street. I punch the screen door on my way out, shout a string of obscenities, and allow them to strap me down on the wheeled bed in the rear of the ambulance. I bellow horrible things, unheard. this behavior isn't rational. I'm imagining a lot of things. this isn't right but I haven't slept for nearly three weeks. I am whisked away to the hospital where I was born, only to be detained in the emergency room. I am lying on my back, a padded mattress beneath me. they cover me with warm blankets. my right wrist is bound in a restraint I can't undo. several hospital staff come and go, asking me questions I can't answer to their satisfaction; all I want to do is sleep and not think or say another word. I've been asked all these questions so many times that I'm too exhausted to keep my eyes open. a tall, awkward man with black hair, who looks to be in his late thirties, probably an on-call nurse, with black-framed coke-bottle glasses enters the room, draws my blood and demands a urine sample. my wrist is still bound in the stupid restraint, and I haven't even resisted any of the staff. I'm too tired to raise my head, but I know I have to now. the creep's fingers brush against my toes briefly, and it looks purposeful. I snap at him not to touch my feet. "If you are uncooperative and won't give us a urine sample, we'll have to use the catheter on you." he seems a little too delighted at the idea. it shows in his creepy syrupy voice. idiot. "I can't give you a urine sample if you don't loosen the restraint on my wrist," I respond coldly. he does. I go to the bathroom to piss in a cup, knowing they'll detect marijuana. I've smoked it almost ceaselessly throughout the month. after I'm done in the bathroom, they bind my wrist yet again. I think I hear the ER staff discussing my case and giggling. but I am also sleep-deprived and a lot of things that seem real aren't happening. the atmosphere of the hospital is different than I remember it to be, and I can't really explain why. the same fluorescence streams from the ceiling, waterfalls of stinging, penetrating illumination. I stare at the patterns of the light until it no longer hurts. objects tilt and distort before my dried, dulled eyes that have not had the pleasure of a good night's sleep in so long, so long... a heart monitor beeps, lines go up and down, never straight. unless I stop breathing, but I know I'm far from death. My whole world feels like a desensitizing purgatory. I see this all as a punishment for wrong-doing, but maybe I'm the only one punishing me. the activity and machines and voices are no longer heard as I surrender to a dark thicket of heavy sleep. nothing can alter me any longer. I've secured my fortress. no one but I is in possession of the key. * I awaken to find  myself being transferred by another ambulance to The Institution a third time in one year. it's a mass structure of bricks and chain link towering over a murky lake. I know the wards all too well and distaste fills me. I am too exhausted to object to the court's decision. maybe I can learn instead of running, the tail of a kite evading the grasp of a hand. I would rather be the kite. I would rather be a balloon instead of the string that prevents it from rising when it's wound around someone's fingers. I want to cure myself, but with guidance to find out why I'm such a seething, wrathful girl. why I'm lovesick when I shouldn't be. doors open. elevator swallows me and the EMTs, ascends and spits us out onto ward 1 North 1. the EMTs wheel me through a door. my eyelids fall from the exaggerated brightness. I cannot speak, but I know that things need to be done differently. my goal is not for people to understand what I went through. my goal is to express myself however I please, freely, without guilt and without fear. everyone has to the right to put down whatever they please on paper. risk censorship, for fuck's sake! like permanent ink on a wall or under a bridge, my awakening from a lifeless nothing to a wide-eyed, perceptive person will not collapse and crumble under the strain of adversity. I will feel pain, but not only pain. I've seen enough to know that surrendering to pain is not worth it.

Vivica Salem

[iv-kplpt]

bad days, good nights

plot summary: she moved to gotham looking for a new start. he leads a double life - as a brutal vigilante and as a broke pizza delivery guy. she falls in love with both of them. whoops. or: the one that got out of control.

rated m just to be safe (very vague nsfw and gore)

~9,6k words

Charlie had been in Gotham for less than three months when she first met the Penguin - city's most brutal vigilante, surpassing even the Batman in his ruthlesness. He was not afraid to get his hands dirty, he was not above killing and he was infuriatingly elusive; no one had the slightest clue as to who's hiding behind the mask and under the suit. No one knew who's pulling the trigger. There was no name, no face; only distorted voice and a weird sense of justice.

She moved to the city looking for a fresh start - her first and only marriage ended in an ugly, messy way. New York was forever ruined for her - those were the streets she walked with Harry, this was the park where they kissed, this was the church where they married. She couldn't stand those familiar streets, those noises; and Gotham City had a reputation of a place willing to give anyone a second chance. Her father used to go to school there and he remembered those times fondly; so she packed her things, her scars, her grief - and took it to the city of second chances.

She wasn't bothered by Gotham's rather peculiar problem with masked villains and vigilantes - no place on Earth is perfect, after all. New York also had its fair share of problems; and she kind of admired the Bat. He was on national news from time to time; he was the symbol of Gotham.

But only after moving there she found out about the Penguin.

"That guy's a freak." Louise - her new friend - told her one evening, as they were having a girls' night out. "Also he makes my life hell."

"Oh yeah?" Charlie asked, playing with an olive from her martini and politely ignoring a guy who's been eyeing her from across the room. "Do tell."

"Well, for starters, he keeps killing people my people are looking for. He just... Kills them. No trial, no warning - bam. He's the judge and the executioner."

"Sounds to me like he's doing your job for you." Charlie said jokingly and Louise scoffed.

"Oh puh-lease. And then there's this fucking Batman dude, right? He's our top priority - so Grogan firmly refuses on giving resources to poor losers forced to look for the bird mask guy. And this list of losers... Includes me."

"Hey, speak of the devil." Charlie said, glancing at a tv screen behind the bar. "He just did something."

"Yeah. Fuck!" Louise groaned, looking at her phone. "I just got a text from Dent."

"I keep forgetting you work directly under him, you know." Charlie sighed, thinking about Gotham's handsome, ambicious district attorney. "Is he nice?"

"He's the nicest fucking man in whole wide Gotham." Louise muttered in response, typing her reply. "And I mean it. He's a delight."

"You should introduce me some day."

"Don't hit on my superior, Charlie."

"Why not? He's cute."

"And you are freshly divorced and don't know anyone else in Gotham. Leave Dent alone, we'll find you someone not married to his job. Deal?"

"Deal."

And Louise kept her side of the bargain - mostly. She did her best to introduce Charlie to Gotham social elite; and Charlie was slowly settling down, feeling more and more at home, despite being unable to find anyone who'd actually catch her eye. There was Bruce Wayne, who was very polite, very popular and very boring; there was Katherine Kane, who was very beautiful, very intelligent and very disinterested in fancy parties; and other people, whose names Charlie was slowly learning.

But all in all, Gotham was treating her well - she bought a beautiful house in Crest Hill, Gotham's prestigious suburban neighborhood. She made a few friends, and found some interesting places; she enjoyed Gotham's melody and rhytm and the way its streets and people accepted her as one of their own almost instantly. And it seemed like the whole masked villains thing had been blown out of proportions; at least until that one memorable fundraiser she attended.

It was Harvey Dent's fundraiser; he was running for mayor and he needed funds for his campaign, as his private pockets were not bottomless. Everything was smooth and dandy - and then the Joker showed up.

What did he want? What was his purpose? Nobody could tell, but everyone was afraid of this pale faced, smiling man; his sweetened words and little jokes were intemingled with brutality and sadism and he was unpredictable and destructive like a forest fire.

He showed up. He terrorized the party.

He took Charlie hostage, actually. He spotted her in the crowd, paralyzed next to the table and grinned, as if he knew she's not from around there, as if he somehow smelled new blood. But he knew; and there she was, paralyzed with fear, the Joker putting a gun to her head and cheerfully talking about how beautiful the evening is. And she was shaking and was holding back tears and she could spot Louise and Dent in the crowd, motionless, helpless.

She was sure this is it, this is the end; he'd probably kill her on spot or - even worse - take her with him and then break her, piece by piece, the way he liked to.

(Everyone knew what he does to pretty girls. It involved needles and crowbars and knives. He was leaving shattered people behind and was eluding everyone; the police, Batman, Penguin. All that was left was a trail of blood and tears.)

But he never got to do it to her; or to anyone else.

He dropped dead, half his head missing, a lot of his blood and brain tissue splattered in Charlie's hair; Penguin managed to sneak in and shoot him from the side, killing him instantly.

She slowly turned her head and looked at the suited vigilante, who was calmly reloading his gun, his mask perfectly expressionless, his outfit absolutely impeccable.

(He was making this yellow tie work.)

"Terribly sorry about your hair." he finally said, completely ignoring everyone else. "But that was my only chance to take a shot without the bullet going through you as well. Are you alright?"

"I need a drink." Charlie replied softly and fainted, falling right into Penguin's arms; he caught her and - before drifting away - she thought he actually smells nice, like good cologne and-

*** She woke up in a hospital room; and as soon as she opened her eyes, Louise barged in, followed by detective Bullock and Dent, the latter very apologetic, the former very tired.

They had questions; and she didn't have any answers. She saw what they saw, and knew what they knew, if not less; why would the Penguin want Joker dead? Why wouldn't he?

"What happened after I passed out?" she eventually interrupted them. "Did he escape?"

"...don't tell me one murder was all it took to turn you into a fan." Bullock muttered and Louise shot him a tired look. "What? She's worried about him, just look at her!"

"He saved my life, didn't he?"

"He did." Louise agreed reluctantly. "Well, after you fainted... He carried you to a back room. And then Batman showed up. And they... Did their thing. Lots and lots of collateral damage."

(Batman and Penguin - despite having a similar goal - were not at all friends. Batman didn't approve of Penguin's murderous tendencies; and Penguin didn't approve of Batman's no killing rule. They lacked understanding. They often had to relieve some tension by beating the crap out of each other.)

"We will be keeping an eye on you for some time." Dent informed her. "Just to make sure... You're fine. Will you tell us if he ever reaches out to you?"

"Of course." she assured him, not believing a single word she was saying. "I will."

(The thought of Penguin carrying her in his strong arms filled her with a warm fuzz. He saved her life! He made his stupid mask look good with a suit! And then he carried her, after she fainted! It sounded to good to be true. It sounded dreamy. It sounded cliche.)

"Please tell me you don't have a crush on him." Louise asked her the moment they were left alone and Charlie blinked innocently.

"What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, you know what I mean."

"I feel like I owe him something, that's all." Charlie said, choosing her words carefully. "Hey, do you think I can go home now?"

"Just let the doctor check if everything's alright and you're free like a bird." Louise said slowly, staring her down. "Like a very flightless bird."

"...oh come on."

"Please don't make my job more difficult than it already is."

They let her go few hours later; it was dawning when she got home.

And something... Was definitely wrong - starting with the fact her front door was open; and she knew she had locked it before leaving.

She should have called the police; but instead - lead by morbid curiosity - simply went in.

Penguin was in her living room, on her couch. And he was bleeding.

"Evening." he said after realizing she's standing in the doorway, with her keys still in hand, staring at him. "Is this... Your house?"

She nodded and he let out a quiet chuckle, interrupted with a pained groan.

"Small world." he said finally. "Hey. Do you know... First aid?"

"I know a lot more." she said, slowly putting her purse down. "My mother's... A surgeon."

"Really?" he asked, as she approached the coach, turning the lights on on her way there. "Then I guess it's my lucky day."

"I wasn't expecting to repay the favor so soon, mister Penguin." she said, kneeling down. "I have to take a look at this."

(Stab wounds. And probably a broken rib or two.)

"I'll patch you up." she said, getting up, his blood on her coat. "I'll be... Right back. Don't move."

"Oh, very funny." he scoffed and she turned around, hiding her smile. "Make it snappy, eh? I'd hate to bleed out in your living room."

She cleaned up his wounds and patched him up as much as she could; she was no surgeon. She was an amateur.

But it seemed to be enough and Penguin visibly calmed down and relaxed. Even with his mask on, she could feel his eyes on her hands.

"What's your name?" he asked eventually.

"Charlie." she replied quietly, looking up. "Alright, that's it. That's all I can do."

"And it seems to be just enough." he said in response, looking down on his bandaged chest. "You are a very literal lifesaver, Charlie."

"Well, so are you." she said, getting up and stretching. "I guess... I should thank you. For today."

"That's my job, isn't it? Killing the bad guys, saving the good guys. And... Once again... So sorry about your hair."

"They got it all out in the hospital. Though... I think I can still feel it." she confessed with a shudder. "His blood. On my skin."

"Well, it's a good thing you can feel. It means you're alive."

"Is that you trying to convince yourself to not worry about being in pain?"

Penguin laughed and her heart skipped a beat.

"Maybe." he admitted finally. "Can I uh... Stay here for a few hours? I think... I need some sleep."

"Of course." she said softly. "I will... Bring you a blanket."

"Thank you, love."

He fell asleep before she came back, and she stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at him; he kept his mask on and she was sure it's uncomfortable as hell. She gently brushed it with her fingertips, wondering who's hiding behind it.

He muttered something, as she covered him with her favorite blanket; very fuzzy and very blue.

Before heading to bed - she was dead tired herself - she left a note on the table, right next to his gun (she was sure it's the same gun he used to get rid of the Joker once and for all); she asked him to not wake her up and to not leave without eating something first.

When she woke up - around noon - he was gone, leaving behind only dried up blood and some breadcrumbs on her kitchen table.

He ate her bagels. And her cream cheese. But she didn't mind; neither she was concerned about all the blood.

She didn't have any energy for going out and being social that day; so she ordered a pizza. There was a decent pizza place nearby; and the truth was, she wasn't actually that big of a fan of their food. It was definitely good, but she didn't even like pizza all that much; but they had a delivery guy with the most beautiful face she had ever seen.

His name was Oswald. He was tall, very, very handsome - in this rugged, nonchalant way she secretly loved - spoke with awful British accent and she simply loved looking at him. And listening to him. She was sure his politeness and cheesy humor he was always greeting her with were coming from the fact she was a rich customer, who tipped well; but she enjoyed it regardless.

Also for quite some time she had been wondering how to ask him out without making it weird. He seemed to be into her; more than once she caught him glancing at her skin, more or less flustered.

(Part of her wanted to hold hands and go for a walk with him. Another part of her wanted him to push her against a wall and make her beg. It was complicated.)

But, alas, it was not her lucky day; Oswald wasn't working that day, as the delivery girl - April - informed her.

"He does say hi though." she added with a giggle and Charlie's heart - for the second time that day - skipped a beat. "He called in and he said he has a feeling you're going to be ordering today and he asked whoever will be delivering to tell you he says hi."

"Really?" she asked softly. "Please tell him I said hi as well."

"Will do!" April assured her, pocketing the generous tip. "Have a good day!"

And Charlie was left alone with a big cheese pizza she didn't even like and a quickly beating heart.

*** During the following weeks, she met Penguin few more times.

Every time he was acting the same - courteous. A bit snarky. Ruthless to bad guys. Very apologetic, if their meeting was taking place on her couch, where he was bleeding and she was patching him up.

"You should get yourself a doctor." she muttered during one of those nights, and he snickered under the mask.

"Why, are you getting tired of me?"

"No, but one day I'll be unable to help. I'm not a miracle worker."

"You do work miracles on me, Charlie." he claimed and she sighed. "Also, I enjoy your company."

"Oh really? That's a smart move, being nice to someone patching you up."

(Her humor was a facade, behind which her joy was hiding. He seemingly didn't notice.)

"I'm dead serious, Charlie. I enjoy our time together... Plus you didn't rat me out, despite being under McDonagh's watchful eye."

(He said our. She liked that, more than she probably should.)

"Louise's a friend." she said, taking her gloves off. "She worries about me."

"Tell me about your life." he said suddenly, as she was walking to the kitchen.

"There's not much to talk about." she said carefully, washing her hands in the sink. "Really."

"Well, then tell me about those few things that are there." he said, right behind her, and she jumped in place; he quietly followed her to the kitchen and was standing right behind her. "I'm... Interested."

He was half naked and for the first time she had a good occasion to take an actual look at him. He had a body of someone whose fighting style was all about agility and speed; he was lean, and his muscles weren't bulky.

He did have beautiful arms though.

"Are you going to just stare at me in silence until I go away?" he asked amused and she blinked a few times. "Because it's not going to work. Just tell me to piss off."

"Sorry." she muttered, turning to the sink again and pouring herself a glass of water. "Right. What do you want to know?"

"Everything's you're willing to share, I suppose."

"I'm an only child." she started slowly, sitting on the table; he sat on the floor, groaning quietly, his back against the wall. "My family... Well. Old money from New York. Nothing very original. I moved here about... Five months ago? Yeah, five."

"And why did you come here?"

"Because I wanted a fresh start." she said shortly. "Personal matters."

"Ah. I symphatize. And... How's this old hag of a city treating you?"

"I've got nothing to complain about. People are... Mostly nice. Though I still have yet to meet Batman."

"He's an asshole." Penguin informed her calmly and she giggled. "But that's my opinion, after getting my ass handed to me by him several times."

"Well, I'm not going to fight him, I just want to look at him. See if he's really as scary as people claim he is."

"He's not." Penguin said shortly. "He's just a man, dressed up as a bat... Can be scary, if you're afraid of bats. Or men."

(She saw Harry's face for a brief moment. Then Oswald's.)

"Men don't scare me. Some of you are... Pretty alright."

"Oh?" Penguin asked, tilting his head slightly. "Got someone specific in mind?"

"There's this pizza delivery guy..." she said absentmindedly. "Oswald. Oswald... Something. He's funny. I like him."

"Then ask him out." Penguin said calmly and she laughed, realizing it's past midnight and she's sitting on her kitchen table, telling her life story to Gotham's most blood-soaked vigilante. "Hey! What's so funny?"

"Nothing! Nothing. But yeah, I might do that. Is there someone in your life, bird guy?"

"Ah, you know I can't tell you that." he said, shaking his head. "The less you know about me, the better for you."

"You're probably right." she agreed sadly. "But come on. Give me something vague."

"Well, there is somebody." he said slowly and - for some reason - her heart dropped. "We're working on it. And that's all I can tell you."

"I hope you'll make it work." she said quietly, getting up. "I'm going to bed. You can have the couch."

"Thank you, my fair lady." he said, nodding in her direction as she left, oddly determined to ask Oswald for his number the next time she sees him, so next time Penguin crashes in her living room she can tell him about this wonderful man she started seeing.

Batman paid her a visit the next night.

She just finished cleaning Penguin's blood off her floor; she's been scrubbing it for almost an hour - and when she got up and turned around, Batman was there, in her living room, staring at her quietly.

He looked very unsettling in the bright light of her lamp.

"Spilled something?" he asked in his signature, deep, growly voice as she stared at him in disbelief.

"Yeah." she replied finally, slowly sitting down in a nearby chair. "Yeah."

Batman. In her living room. Right.

"I know Penguin was here." Batman said calmly, staring her down.

"Who?" she asked, deciding to play dumb.

(She promised herself she won't rat Penguin out. Not to Louise. Not to the police. Not to Batman.)

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Batman informed her and she winced. "But you have to stop protecting him."

"I'm not protecting anyone though."

"...I'm going to ignore this as well. I know he visits you often, and I know you've been helping him. Why?"

He stared at her, and in the heavy silence she suddenly remembered all the blood he had spilt, all the bones he had broken.

"He saved my life, you know." she said with a shrug. "From the Joker. And it's... More than can be said about certain other people."

"I can't be in two places at the same time."

"And where were you?" she asked, staring at him. "No. Don't answer that, it doesn't matter. What matters is that... Penguin helped."

"And now you're helping him."

"I'm not." she lied again. "All I'm doing is... Voicing my support for the cause."

"This is pointless." Batman muttered and took a step in her direction and she was very, very close to a heart attack-

but Penguin always knew how to make an entrance.

"Batsy!" he said with false enthusiasm, stepping into her house and glancing at Batman. "What on Earth brings you here?"

"Cut the crap, Penguin." Batman said quietly, for a moment turning his attention away from petrified Charlie.

"She has nothing to do with it, Bats." Penguin said, abandoning his false joviality. "Leave her out of it. She knows nothing, she saw nothing... What's your policy regarding innocent bystanders, hmm?"

"Then why are you here, Penguin?"

"Oh, deduce it out!" Penguin said mockingly. "World's greatest detective... Come on! Deduce!"

Whatever his plan was, whatever his intention was - it worked. He started to slowly walk backwards towards the exit and Batman followed and Charlie was left behind in her chair, mortified, staring at the two men.

(She sometimes had problems telling if Penguin was looking at her or not; but this time she could feel his eyes on her. He was glaring at her from behind the mask and she looked back, above Batman's shoulder and for a brief moment she felt like the two vigilantes know something she doesn't. Obviously, they knew a lot of stuff she had no idea about; but they knew something about each other she felt might be important.)

They both disappeared into the night and she was left alone with her racing thoughts and a burning feeling on her face, where Penguin's eyes touched her.

"Well." she eventually muttered to herself, locking her front door. "New Yorkers have to meet Woody Allen, and Gothamites have to be vaguely threatened by Batman. Seems like everything's in order."

(She would have called Louise... But she was doing this one exact thing she was asked to not do. It was just her and Penguin and Batman. Not exactly a dream scenario.)

*** The perfect opportunity to follow Penguin's uncalled for advice regarding her personal life presented itself the next day. She went out to get some groceries - and the pizza place Oswald was working at was on the way.

So she dropped by - for the first time actually seeing the place. It was small, and seemed popular, considering all seats were taken, and the workers seemed to be busy - but April was behind the counter and she noticed Charlie after a short while.

"If it isn't our best customer!" she said with a smile, as Charlie waved at her. "Are you here for Oz?"

"Oz?" Charlie repeated uncertainly. "I... Guess?"

"Everyone calls him Oz, Oswald is a mouthful." April said, giving her customer their change. "Give me a sec, I'll get him for you-"

"I'm here!" Charlie heard a familiar voice and Oswald hastily left the kitchen, his hands covered in flour. "What's up?"

"Hey." Charlie said, smiling nervously and he grinned back, looking absolutely overjoyed. "Can we... Talk?"

"April?" Oswald asked, hesitantly looking at April, who only nodded and waved her hand.

"Go, go." she muttered. "Take a break."

They ended up in an alley behind Sal's, between brick walls, in a safe distance from the nearest dumpster. He lit up a cigarette and she sighed quietly, watching his profile.

(He looked beautiful from that angle.)

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he finally asked and she snapped out of her musings. "Did I muck up the last order or..."

"No, no!" she interrupted him quickly. "It's not a complaint. I... Do you want to get a coffee some day? Or... Tea or a milkshake or whatever?"

"Are you asking me out?" he asked with a lazy smile and for a brief moment she got lost in his squinted eyes.

"Yes." she finally said, nervously playing with the sleeve of her coat and he snickered and put his cigarette out, crushing it with his heel.

"My shift ends in two hours." he finally said. "And then... I'm free. And to answer your original question... Yes. God, yes."

He stretched and glanced at her and she could feel she's smiling like an idiot.

"You have a beautiful smile, by the way." he told her quietly and she smiled even wider. "So... See you in two hours?"

"Yes!" she said enthusiasthically, feeling so so glad she listened to Penguin. "See you!"

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before turning around and leaving, the sounds of her heels on the concrete accompanied by Oswald's quiet laughter.

They went out for tea that afternoon, and they sat in the corner of the room, where no one could hear them.

"I've been trying to muster up the courage to ask you out for a weeks now, you know." he told her, staring at her attentively. "Never expected you to do it first. It's... Flattering."

"A good friend gave me a good advice." she said, thinking about her late night chat with the Penguin. "At least I assume it was good advice."

"Whoever this friend is, I owe them one." he said with a wink. "Also... I've heard about this deal with Penguin and the Joker. Messed up."

"It could've been worse." she said with a nonchalant shrug. "Nothing happened to me, and I got to meet the notorious Penguin. But it was long time ago... I almost never think about it."

(She was, obviously, lying. She was thinking about that evening a lot. And about Penguin and his arms, strong and lean, and his back, and his breathy, raspy voice.)

"Well, I'm glad you're okay." Oswald said hesitantly and she smiled; he looked like a puppy.

"I'm okay now." she said with a wink and his face lit up.

They talked for a few hours, about nothing and everything; and she decided she definitely loves listening to his voice. She felt comfortable around him, comfortable enough to not play coy and give him a proper, farewell kiss.

He pulled her closer instantly and she decided she likes the feeling of his hand on her back.

"Well." he whispered at some point, breaking the kiss. "Thats another thing I've been wanting to do."

"Call me." she whispered back, sliding a piece of paper with her phone number written on it into his hand.

"Oh, I will. I will." he assured her. "But for now... Have a good night?"

"Oh, I will." she said with a sigh, wondering if Penguin will show up. "I will."

Penguin showed up one week later; in the meantime, she had another casual date with Oswald. Her original urges - to both go for a walk with him and bang him - didn't disappear; in fact, they were getting more and more intense with time. She wanted to take things slow, to not scare him off, to wait some time before introducing him to anyone; but she was sure it's going to happen. She could feel it.

She woke up one night, because she heard some noises downstairs - and when she entered her living room, armed with a baseball bad she saw Penguin. He looked like he got out of a fight, judging by his torn clothes and bruises; but he wasn't bleeding.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked at the sight of her nightgown and messy hair. "My apologies."

"It was bound to happen eventually." she said with a yawn, putting the bat away. "You seem fine. What brings you here?"

"I need to lay low for a few hours and my usual partner in crime is out of town... And I don't have the keys to their place." Penguin said carefully. "May I...?"

"Sure. Be my guest." she said in a resigned tone. "You know, maybe I should give you a set of keys to this place. Also I have a guest room. Maybe... I'll start keeping some clothes for you there." she added, glancing critically at his torn clothes. "What was it this time? A tiger?"

"You could say that." he snickered, sinking into her couch and stretching his legs. "Also, I've been meaning to check up on you." he said in a casual tone, his head turned in her general direction; and she suddenly became very aware of how thin and short her nightgown was. "Is everything alright, Charlie?"

"Yeah." she said with a shrug, sitting in a nearby chair. "I... Went out with that pizza guy. Oswald."

"And... How was it? Do you think he's alright, or is he a serial killer in disguise?"

"...your optimism outshines the sun. No, he's... Great, actually." she admitted. "He's very my type, he's funny, he's honest... And I want to see how this thing develops. Because I think there will be more to us."

"I'm very glad to hear it." Penguin said, and he sounded honest, as honest as possible, considering his mask and a voice altering device inside. "But that being said... Do let me know if he turns out to be a rotten apple. Abuse's abuse, no matter how small."

"I can take care of myself, you know." she said quietly and he sighed.

"I'm not doubting that. What I'm trying to say is... You have a friend in me." he said and she smiled faintly. "Especially considering the Batman thing. You were... Very stubborn in stalling him."

"You saved my life, Penguin."

"And you saved mine, meaning your imaginary debt had been paid." Penguin said quietly and she tilted her head slightly. "You don't owe me anything, Charlie. Nobody owes me anything."

"Yeah, well, I suppose you have a friend in me." she said hesitantly and he chuckled quietly.

"I'm always glad to hear it from beautiful people, you know." he muttered and she guessed he's falling asleep. "Mmm. Mind if I..?"

"Goodnight, Penguin." she said softly, getting up. "Take care."

"And you as well, my fair lady." he muttered in response.

That night her dreams were confusing, to say the least - Oswald and Penguin were both there, and she realized she has to choose, that she can't have both.

She woke up not remembering who she chose; she felt a sting of disappointment when she went downstairs and saw Penguin had already left.

***

With time her crush on Oswald started turning into something else. With time and patience, this crush started to turn into something deeper. Still warm and genuine; but deeper. With time, she started to fall in love with him.

It was a good feeling, falling in love - it felt clear air just after the storm and a fluffy scarf in winter and belonging. She missed that feeling; and the more time they spent together, the more obvious it was she's not alone in this.

(It was in his eyes and in his voice and in the way he glanced at her from time to time when they were walking down the street and the way he'd put his arm around her wais. It was in everything.)

"My god, Charlie." Louise groaned one evening. "Stop grinning at your phone! Also, tell me who is doing this to you."

"Oh, you know." Charlie said nonchalantly, texting Oz back. "A guy."

"That's deliciously vague." Louise's new girlfriend smirked; her name was Vicki and she recently came back from her vacation. "C'mon. Describe him."

"Mmmm-mmmm." she shook her head. "I want to introduce him soon. Don't want to spoil the surprise."

"As long as it's not Bruce Wayne." Louise sighed and Charlie winced.

"Heavens, no. Wayne seems very sweet, but... I don't really have a sweet tooth."

"Oh, he's sweet and nice until you hear the spicy story." Vicki said with a wink. "His family was involved in some pretty dirty stuff, you know. No one knows who leaked this stuff, but it was a huge scandal last year. Ever heard of the Cobblepots?"

"I know about the Cobblepot Part."

"Yeah. They built it, and now it's a fucking ruin." Louise scoffed. "They were close friends with the Waynes... And them BAM, Theodore was driven to suicide, Esther was driven insane, their baby son - Bruce's best friend - shipped off to England, their name in shambles, their fortune... Gone. All because Thomas and Martha and their friends wanted a piece of their land."

"Jesus Christ." Charlie muttered. "That's... Terrible."

"Yeah." Vicki nodded. "But then Waynes got murdered... Karma's a bitch, eh?"

"I wonder what became of the baby Cobblepot though." Louise pondered. "If he's even alive and mentally sound. Nobody heard from him in years."

"Well, if I were him, I'd probably change my name and start from scratch." Charlie said with a shrug, pushing away the realization how close she was from losing everything. "I hope the world is treating him well."

"Yeah." Vicki agreed quietly. "Me too, girl. Me too."

Few days after her talk with Vicki and Louise, Charlie had another date with Oz. He was supposed to meet her in front of the mayor's office - she had some paperwork problems and wanted to deal with them as fast as possible. Inside the building, she bumped into Bruce Wayne. She had met the face of Gotham quite a few times now - he was charming, polite and she didn't particularly care about him either way. She didn't mind his occasional company - but she certainly didn't crave it either.

They were standing on the sidewalk outside the building, chatting about... Weather. Harvey Dent, the upcoming election, police's efforts to capture both Batman and Penguin - usual Gotham stuff.

Eventually, she felt the familiar arm wrapping around her waist and she smiled.

"Hello, darling." Oswald said tenderly, brushing her temple with his lips. "Am I late?"

"No, no, I was finished early." she said cheerfully, turning around to face Bruce Wayne, who was staring at Oswald. "Mister Wayne, this is-"

"Oh, we've met." Bruce interrupted her quietly, his voice cracking slightly. "Oz..."

"Hello, Bruce." Oswald replied equally quietly, not looking Bruce in the eye. "It's been... A while."

"Twenty years."

"Yes. Twenty years."

Heavy silence fell between them, and - very confused Charlie - looked at Oswald in silence for a while, until something finally clicked.

(The fact everyone called his name a mouthful, the fact he never gave her his surname, the fact he seemed to be broke, the fact he seemed to avoid that part of Gotham where Cobblepot Park was located.)

"Oh my god." she said finally. "You're... You're Oswald Cobblepot."

"Yeah." he said quietly, tensely. "I... Should have told you sooner. I'm so, so sorry."

"Oswald, where have you been?!" Bruce Wayne asked, visibly moved. "Please, talk to me."

"I'm managing, Bruce." Oswald replied harshly. "I'm... I'm managing. I don't want your mercy. I don't want anyone's mercy."

"It's not mercy, I'm your friend!"

"To be honest, Bruce... I'm not so sure if I'm your friend anymore." Oswald said, and his voice sounded empty and sad and tense. "Now please excuse me, I... Have a date."

Charlie and Oswald walked away from Bruce Wayne and only after a couple of minutes in complete silence she glanced at him; he was looking at the ground under his feet, avoiding her eyes.

"When were you going to tell me?" she finally asked and he shrugged and sighed.

"I don't know." he admitted. "But I was going to... Eventually. I've been... Hiding it. I was so tired of people looking at me like that... Same way Bruce was looking at me."

"You're not your family's tragedy, Oswald." she said quietly, gently brushing his hand with her fingertips. "You're more than that. You're your own person."

"Wow, thanks, Sherlock." he said with a faint smile and she scoffed. "Hey, Charlie."

"Yeah?"

"Does this change anything... About us?"

"Well, for me you're still the pizza delivery guy who smuggled me extra garlic bread more than once." she said and he snickered. "You're also still the same guy I asked out for coffee, so... I don't think so."

(She meant it. Cobblepot or not, burdened with a family tragedy or not - he was still her Oswald.)

They didn't confess any actual feelings that day; it wasn't a good time. But they had time.

*** Penguin visited her the same night - or: came crashing through her front door, covered in blood.

"Penguin!" she called out, running up to him. "Oh my god, what happened?!"

"A lot of things, at once." he groaned. "Oh god... This hurts like, pardon my French, motherfucker."

"Shut up!" she said, panicked, walking him up to the couch; he fell onto it like a sack filled with potatoes. "Stop talking. I'm... I'm going to patch you up."

"Talk to me, Charlie." he asked as she came back with her utensils. "Please. Just... Talk to me. Keep me anchored."

(Things were looking bad and she wasn't so sure if her abilities are enough to help.)

"I... I met Oswald Cobblepot." she said in a state of panic, trying to figure out where to start. "Shit, Penguin, I don't think I can do this. I don't have the equipment! I'm not a professional!"

"It's alright." he said and coughed. "I have a guy, he's on his way, you just stop me from bleeding out. Talk to me. Cobblepot?"

"Yeah. Turns out my pizza delivery guy had been Oswald Cobblepot all along." she said, trying to stop the bleeding in three places at once. "He says he's... Managing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And he asked me if his past changes how I feel about him."

"Well... Does it?"

"No!" she bridled in response. "Well, maybe a bit. But I still like him! I still like being kissed by him."

"For his own good, I hope he's good for you."

She could hear some noises outside and Penguin sighed with relief.

"Ah. My friend is coming."

"Penguin... You can't keep doing this." she said on a verge of tears, her hands and clothes completely covered in his blood. "I'm not going to be able to help you every time!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I just like feeling your hands on me." he sighed and she froze in place. "Batsy! There you are. Help me out, would you?"

She looked behind her and there he was - Batman, in her own living room, again. He put his gloved hand on her shoulder and forced her to get up; Penguin scoffed at this sight.

"Be gentle with her, Batsy." Penguin warned the Bat quietly. "She's not the one you want. Now... Let's get down to business."

"Get out." Batman said to her quietly and she left, too shocked by what Penguin just told her to argue.

Maybe I just like feeling your hands on me.

Was he serious? Was he joking? She had no idea; there was too much pain, too much tension in his - already modified - voice for her to tell.

But there had to be some reason for him to keep coming back, for him to trust her with his wounds, for him to call her my fair lady. Was it all just a ploy, a game to win her loyalty? Or did she accidentally bewitch a masked vigilante?

She tried to look at herself through his eyes; she tried to feel what he felt - but to no avail.

(She felt guilty. She had feelings for Oswald; but the faint chance of Penguin actually being smitten with her made her blood rush and her heart skip a beat. She sometimes still remembered the feeling of him catching her just before she fainted.  It felt safe; she felt safe around him, comfortable enough to talk about her private life with him.)

She took a long shower, washing off all of his blood. When she left the bathroom - wearing clean clothes, her hair still wet, and her face bare - Batman was waiting just outside.

(The sight of him in her brightly lit corridor was absolutely surreal.)

"I'm too tired to lie to you tonight." she said before he said anything. "So. How is he?"

"He will live." Batman informed her and she sighed with relief. "He's going to stay the night here. Is that a problem?"

"Wouldn't be the first time it happened." she sighed. "So... Are you going to arrest us?"

"No." he said after a very long pause. "At least not tonight. We reached... An understanding. And as for you..."

"I'm fucked, aren't I?"

"Don't interrupt me. As for you..." he continued, "You never did anything wrong. You are not a criminal. You are not my enemy."

"Yeah, but I'm a friend of your enemy."

"He's not my enemy." Batman said dryly. "He just doesn't realize it yet. Me and Penguin - we're not enemies."

"Then... What are you?"

"You don't need to know everything. But I have a piece of advice for you."

"I'm all ears, Batman."

"Don't push." he said quietly. "Don't push him, because sometimes a little push is all it takes. And you... Might be just the person able to make that push. Do not."

"What the fuck does this mean?!" she groaned, but Batman didn't respond - instead he only turned around and left and she could've swear that she heard the typical sound of a human head banging against a low doorframe.

Penguin was on her unfortunate, bloodied couch in her living room; he turned his head as she entered the room, her arms crossed on her chest.

"I'm alive." he told her faintly and she scoffed. "I assume this is the last time I'm allowed to use this place as an asylum..?"

(In his arms, she felt safe.)

"No." she said softly, her very conlicted heart melting. "Of course not."

"Any other answer would break my heart." he said quietly, his voice so muffled she could barely hear him. "I am feeling drawn to you, Charlie."

"Christ." she said half jokingly, her heart pounding. "What did Batman do to you?"

"Midazolam." he said lazily. "And some other things. Something for the pain, something to calm me down, some... Some other things. He gave me a calming painkiller that doubles as a truth serum, basically. He also patched me up. Please don't ask me what my name is."

"I won't." she promised him, despite really wanting to know. "But Penguin..."

"I know." he said quietly. "There's Oswald. A sweet, nice, pizza delivery guy with a secret... I actually crossed paths with him, you know?"

"Did you?"

"I did. I know him... Quite well, the young Cobblepot. From his bad old days in the United Kingdom. We go wayyyyy back."

"Yeah?" she asked quietly, staring at the mask, trying to see what's behind it. "Where are you going with this, Penguin?"

"He's not a jealous type." Penguin finally said. "He... Wouldn't mind."

"...would't mind what, exactly?"

"Us." Penguin breathed out. "Do you feel drawn to me, Charlie?"

"You're basically high." she said calmly, her face deep, deep red. "Let's have this conversation when you are... Not high. Okay?"

"I'll keep you to your word, Charlie." he muttered, clearly drifting away. "One kiss for every freckle..." was the last thing she heard before he dozed off and she was left with her heart pounding, her head full of questions and a familiar, pulsing ache deep in her body.

He disappeared without a trace the next morning, and he didn't even leave a note behind.

She called Oswald, desperate for some answers - but he was sick. He caught a cold; and when she offered to come over and take care of him - he refused, claiming his afflictions are always extremally contagious.

"But will you call me once you feel better?" she asked sadly and even though the coughing, she could hear him smile.

"Of course I will. Take care, mm?"

"Take care, Oz."

(Both men she had feelings for were unavailable and she was starting to really miss being kissed. She couldn't imagine being kissed by Penguin - with that colossal mask in the way - but she always had very plastic, vivid imagination.

Eventually it found a way.)

*** Things got very complicated very quickly.

She had a feeling Penguin started to evade her after his sudden midazolam-influenced confession; she watched the news and read the papers and knew about all his fights and problems, but not even once he showed up on her couch, asking for few hours of sleep and bandages. Not even once he came to feel her gentle fingers on his scarred skin. And she was concerned - for she realized she actually cares about him, whoever he might be. He never gave her a name, and he never took his mask off around her; but she knew him by his words and by his bloody, bloody deeds. Murders of rapists, mutilations of neonazis, careers crashing and burning; Penguin had been busy.

She never talked about him with Oswald, after all - there was no point in doing so. Penguin trusted her, and by digging in his past she'd violate this trust; she tried to forget everything he told her that night, she tried to forget every dream she had about this faceless man.

Oswald was next to her and was very real and kissed her slowly and gently, but something was stopping him from further intimacy; something was keeping him from showing her his body, even though at that point he saw hers plenty of times. They got together, officially; they said I love you one night during a storm, and she introduced him to her friends and told her parents about him.

They were happy. They were in love. He seemed to be completely unaware of Penguin's shadow looming over them, creeping into their small moments, between their lips as they kissed, putting his bloodied hand between her thighs. He didn't know. It didn't matter. He didn't have to know.

Or: it didn't matter until the moment Penguin killed Carmine Falcone, who - recently - had been revealed to be one of the missing pieces in the Wayne-Cobblepot mystery. One day someone leaked the old photos and recordings; next day he was killed in the hospital as Bruce Wayne was visiting him. Penguin barged in, seemingly calm - though she knew his icy calm often hides a storm - and shot Falcone, before escaping.

Just like this, Carmine Falcone - one of the people who took everything from Oswald Cobblepot - was dead.

"Oswald..." Charlie said, as Oswald showed up on her doorstep, pale as a sheet. "I heard."

"They'll think I did it." he whispered, hiding his face in her hair. "I don't have an alibi..."

"You have me." she said firmly, tightly grasping his shirt with her fingers. "You have me."

(Oswald Cobblepot wouldn't be capable of killing someone in cold blood. He was broken and sad and only barely managing - but he wasn't a killer. She once looked the devil in the eye; she would know.)

Nobody ever questioned Oswald about the killing - everyone assumed Falcone had to die because of his criminal kingdom, because of things he was doing to small people of Gotham. It made sense; it fit Penguin's modus operandi. You hurt this city, you hurt its people - the city retaliates, it's revenge going by the name Penguin.

But then came the day of the debate between two mayoral candidates - Dent and Hill.

Oswald was at work that day, he had a night shift; and Charlie was watching, not really paying attention - up until Penguin took the scene, kicking the moderator out.

She never saw him that angry, and it was a very poorly hidden anger; a volcano, ready to erupt. A ticking time bomb.

Hamilton Hill died that night, on live tv; the executioner read his list of crimes and it was a long one. Corruption, hatred, abuse, partaking in the Cobblepot Tragedy, greed; a bit of everything was there.

Charlie couldn't stop looking. She didn't even blink when Penguin pulled the trigger and mayor's head exploded. She was mesmerized.

(There was something in the way he was using his gun that was making it impossible for her to focus on literally anything else.)

Batman was there, and he was not at all happy. Penguin got away; and she almost felt surprised when he sneaked into her house, bleeding from his shallow wounds.

"Charlie..." he said in his raspy voice, standing behind her. She didn't budge.

"Batman knows where to find you, Penguin." she said quietly, almost not breathing. "Do you think it's wise for you to come here?"

"I'm hiding in the plain sight." he said simply. "I'm wounded, Charlie."

"I know." she said, finally getting up. "Sit down. I will... Patch you up."

He looked tense and she just saw him take a life again; there was no blood on him, except for his own.

She did a bit more than just patch up his wounds that evening.

This time his fingers between her thighs were real. It was all real, even if the best she could do was to kiss the cold, smooth surface of his mask.

She felt no remorse. She felt no regret. She only felt euphoric as she rode him on her couch, his hands on her back, her nails on his arms, her lips on his neck.

Batman never came for him, and in the meantime Oswald texted her saying he'll call her tomorrow, because he needed some time alone to fully process what happened; and Penguin fell asleep on her couch, still wearing his mask.

He was fast asleep and she was impulsive. Without actually thinking - she quickly took his mask off.

(He saw her pink nipples and he heard her moans. It only seemed fair to finally learn who's behind the mask.)

It took her a long moment to process what she was looking at and it took him a long moment to wake up.

"...Oswald?" she finally said, her voice cracking up. "Tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me... This is not true."

"Hello, love." Oswald said, looking at her sadly. "That... Was not how I was hoping you'd find out."

"You weren't going to tell me." she said slowly, calmly. "You... You were going to just keep lying, weren't you? You didn't trust me enough... None of you trusted me."

"Charlie..."

"We both lied to each other, it seems." she muttered, feeling like she's about to faint; slowly, she put the mask down and got up, walking away from the couch. "But... I got the message. You texted me... While we were fucking."

"I have a computer running some scripts." he said quietly. "Charlie... Why did you do this?"

"Why did I do what?" she asked faintly. "Cheat on you?"

"Why did you unmask me." he asked, his voice cracking. "I spent so much time, building those lives... Separating them... Why did you have to blur the lines?"

"I did it by existing! It's not my fault you developed feelings for me!"

"But would this have happened if we were two people? If me and Penguin... If we weren't the same?"

"But you are the same!" she protested tearfully. "You are the same!"

They were both upset. They were both torn.

None of them knew how they feel and why they feel the way they do and how to fix it.

She kicked him out. He told her to never call him again.

For a few days, it was quiet. Sad - but quiet.

She heard Oswald just stopped coming to work. Penguin got way, way more active - and Louise was starting to suspect something.

(Or maybe she simply had a working brain. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots - her heartbreak, the disappearance of Oswald, Penguin becoming more vicious, more ruthless, more careless.)

She was almost ready to get over it, to forget, to move on again - but then Batman paid her a visit.

"I told you to not push." she heard, right after walking into the kitchen. "I told you, and you pushed and pushed and pushed."

"He did all the pushing, Bats." she said tiredly and he winced. "Fine. We both pushed. You should've been clearer."

"And he's now on a road to self destruction."

"We cut each other out." she said, setting her bag of groceries down on the table, as Batman awkwardly stood in the corner. "It's... Not my problem anymore."

"Lie to me all you want, but at very least be honest with yourself." Batman said quietly and she froze for a moment, holding a grapefruit.

(Oswald loved their smell.)

"I'm not lying to anyone, Bat." she said eventually, resuming the unpacking. "Not anymore."

"Don't do this for Penguin, Charlie. Do it for Oswald."

"Ah. So you knew."

"For quite some time now. He was covering his tracks well, but... Not well enough."

"Alright, I'll bite." she said suddenly, turning around to face him. "Why do you care about Oswald Cobblepot so much, Bat?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you."

"You are not Bruce Wayne, right?" she said with doubt in her voice; it was impossible. Batman was way more massive than Wayne; and Wayne lacked... The spine. The will. Everything. "He used to be friends with Oz."

"I am the night, Charlie." Batman replied. "And nocturnal animals need to flock together."

"Penguins are not nocturnal though. They are diurnal." she said, feeling like this is a very, very weird dream. "They don't have any land predators, so they can rest at night-"

"This penguin is nocturnal." Batman interrupted her, sounding even more awkward than she did. "Let's leave biology out of this discussion."

"Why are we even having this conversation?" she asked finally. "Don't you have... Crime to stop? People to beat up?"

"Penguin seems to be doing fine by himself." Batman replied calmly. "Maybe it is his way of self destruction... But you allegedly don't care."

"Fuck. You're not going to go away, are you?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You fucking creep." she sighed with annoyance. "Fine. I do care. I suppose... I fell in love with Oswald and Penguin. As... Separate people. The fact they are one and the same kind of makes things easier. But then I went on and cheated on Oswald with himself, and I guess... Do you know how and why my marriage ended?" she asked suddenly, and Batman - of course - nodded.

"I did my homework. It was... An ugly story."

"Yeah. So I guess I'm sort of touchy on the topic of secret identities and hidden agendas. Look, do we have to do this in a brightly lit kitchen? It ruins... Everything your costume stands for."

"I appreciate your honestly." he said and for a brief moment she had no idea what is he referring to. "Now get dressed. I know where and how to find Penguin, but... I need your help."

"Who told you I want to do anything?!"

"...I've been recording this entire conversation for my Bat-Archive, do you want me to replay your love confession?"

"...Bat-Archive? Really?"

"...get dressed."

*** Batman took her to one of the seediest parts of town, where the worst of the worst were residing. She was supposed to get in trouble; he promised to swoop in in case Penguin doesn't show up.

So she got into trouble - she smiled to the wrong person. One minute later, there was a knife at her throat and she was mentally preparing herself to die-

when she heard the gunshot. Obviously, it was not Batman - he was very firm on his anti-gun stance.

No, when Charlie opened her eyes, she saw the familiar mask and a familiar gun and a familiar suit. Man who - according to his own words - was going to gut her with his own hand was lying dead; and Penguin silently turned around, ready to leave, then she grabbed the fabric of his sleeve.

"Penguin..." she pleaded.

He stopped. Slowly turned his head, looked at her hand, and finally - at her face.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly. "You don't owe me anything. I don't want anything from you."

"Drop the act." she said quietly. "Please. I'm here to apologize. Because... Because..."

"...yes?"

"I still love you, you idiot!" she finally blurted out, still holding his sleeve. "I love this you and the one under the mask. Both of you. The whole you."

"And both of us love you." he said quietly and she slowly moved her fingers from his sleeve to his hand; their fingers touched and - finally - he took her hand. "This is a fucked up situation."

"Let's talk it out." she said breathlessly. "Just please-"

He took her into her arms before she finished her sentence. He smelled the same way he did when they first met; and she still felt safe in his arms.

They had a lot of issues to work through, some of them couldn't even be named; but they had time. And they had each other and it was all that mattered.

[irishmegs88]

I briefly played “The Sims” when it first came out back in 1999. “The Sims,” as you may know, is the absurdly-popular computer game that lets you custom-create a “simulated” person and drop them into an incredibly life-like virtual world. My roommate Matt and I began by creating young, single male characters much like ourselves. We built houses, invited girls over for parties and tried to get our Sims laid, unsuccessfully if I recall. We soon tired of spending so many hours decorating and cleaning our virtual houses, and making them safes place for women — all of which were things we should have been doing in real life. Eventually I just stopped playing, allowing my Sim to wallow in a house without art on the walls or food in the fridge. One day, Matt told me he’d deliberately killed his Sim just so he could end the game. Other gamers murder their Sims for even less, just because they get a kick out of it. “I boxed my Sim into an un-exitable closet with no toilet,” a television producer named Kurt, who’s an old colleague of mine, told me. Kurt’s Sim died soon afterwards, either of hunger or maybe even septicemia. Many gamers seem to actually enjoy killing their Sims, continually searching for new, more innovative methods of engineering their avatars’ virtual demise. So why did we commit virtual murder? Did it mean that we’re depraved — that there might be something actually wrong with us? I asked a psychologist who specializes in video games — her short answer was no, but there’s an important caveat. “At face value, murdering or torturing a virtual avatar seems like a horrible thing to do,” said the psychologist, Rachel Kowert, who’s a board member of the Digital Games Research Association, an organization for academics and other professionals who research digital games. “However, we have to keep in mind that our brains are very adept at differentiating between what’s real and what’s fictional.” Kowert added that she didn’t know of any research saying that committing sadistic crimes in a virtual world would lead to any behavioral consequences in the real one. I breathed a sigh of relief. But here’s the catch: Kowert said it could be problematic if players of The Sims continue to delight in sadistic acts over and over again. “There’s a ‘novelty center’ of the brain that responds to new, novel stimuli,” she said. “While there hasn’t been a direct study into the relationships between this novelty center and virtual sadism that I know of, I would hypothesize that experiencing virtual sadism (in its many forms) for the first time would light up this reward center of the brain, leading to feelings of satisfaction and/or motivation.” Once the novelty wears off, she said, those feelings of satisfaction or motivation should wane. “If someone is taking pleasure in virtual sadism with no signs of reduced enjoyment from these kinds of behaviors over an extended period of time, that may be cause for concern,” said Kowert. The creator of The Sims, Will Wright, has spoken publicly about this issue, saying that murder and other immoral behaviors like cheating are just cathartic — and that’s perfectly fine. “People really love to explore ‘failure states,’” Wright told Psychology Today back in 2003, a few years after the game first came out. “In fact, the failure states are really much more interesting than the success states.” Psychologist Susan Krauss Whitbourne agrees that Sim-killing isn’t a major cause for concern. “Players who torture their Sims may not be as much of a subset as we might think,” Krauss told The official Sims magazine. “People may simply be curious about what happens when they create these situations, and the results can even be seen as funny.” So go ahead, torment, abuse and even murder your Sim. It probably won’t turn you into a psycho. And if you feel bad afterwards, you can always plead with the Grim Reaper to bring your Sim back to life.

[maloriedonohoe-blog]

Perform Miracles Really Occur? Read This Marvelous Tale.

I dearly wish 1 day to be a mommy, but if that is actually not the instance I will certainly still experience the passion of a mommy for all the globe's little ones that are actually unprotected and upright. This account is actually particularly popular with youngsters, as well as often youngsters make up most of the cast for X-mas plays. They allege the assailant and a 14-year-old boy likewise presumably associated with the attack later produced admissions to police. Stress and anxiety is from no benefit to either the mum to be or even her little one thus to prevent this prepare early and after that enjoy this splendid miracle that is about to if this is your second, 3rd, 4th or much more baby it is actually one-of-a-kind whenever, just like exclusive and also absolutely a miracle. Yes, the downpour is actually for the child however it is actually likewise for the moms and dads to share in their delight and assist all of them celebrate the magic from birth or even fostering. An option associated with wonder maternity is actually absolutely permitted in the direction of these individuals, leading to planning to get maternity magic. People state that is actually a wonder when the mail arrives within a time off NY to Los Angeles, or a garage unexpectedly appears facing your place, or traffic was actually so bad that was actually a miracle" you made it punctually. George Ouellette may be retired after 40 years as an agent, yet he still develops to six or even 7 hrs each day going through parks, hills, along hectic roads as well as poking with trash can to pick up containers and cans to assist generate smiles for little ones in requirement. This is actually a fish story of an instructor which are going to certainly not compromise his values through certainly not compromising his integrity. His father brown stated on Thursday that in 2013, when Lucas was 5 years of ages, the young boy brokened 6.5 meters (21 feet) off a window at the loved ones's house in South america while playing with his child sibling, Eduarda. Around the year 2007, the United Kingdom press transferred tales entailing artificial magic baby manufacturer in the identity of an individual called Diocesan Deya. The young kid devoted thirteen times on life assistance at John Radcliffe Healthcare facility in Oxford. Concurrently, the 17 years of age girl was tweezed 6m (20ft) coming from the exact edge of the Autumns and her seven year old brother, wearing only a life vest and a swimsuit, reviewed the Canadian Horseshoe Falls He visited conscious inform his tale. A couple of times eventually I got 2 e-mails concerning a youthful child in Hudson Wisconsin diagnosed with a human brain growth and also were actually seeking my guidance. The magic" demanded for the canonization involves the situation of little Lucas Batista, who story needs to time been shrouded in secrecy. At one point the advanced family members that the young boy locates herself along with commends his failure at dealing with an invention. The cars integrated in Germany of this particular time frame were a sign of the financial wonder the nation was actually appreciating as it created on its own up following the end from the Second War of the nations. This is actually undoubtedly scary to deal with the scary tales of the sufferers from identification fraud. An intriguing tale that is actually advances; the rosary that seems to be to help cure individuals. Along with positively no malevolence suggested toward the author of the fine assortment, my ARC showed up with the 1st label page passed out to read through Wonder Boy instead of the initial Wonder Young boy, just what our company will point out is actually a slight correction to earn in a galley, but this symbolized even more to me. These accounts are what I may call inadvertently natural. Yulia Berry is an individual wellness researcher as well as writer of the most effective marketing electronic books Aloe - Your Miracle Doctor and Drug store in Vegetables. This will be a wonder to tape and also create 5 brand new tracks already - particularly beginning with absolutely no - and definitely after exhausting on my own having actually simply completed my fourth cd, The Recovery Song. Boy acquires shed in huge urban area as well as winds up acquiring embroiled along with pair of burglars. Lisa Olson, a Chinese Medicine Researcher, Substitute Health and wellness as well as Health and nutrition Specialist, Health Consultant as well as Former Impotence Patient vows to instruct you (much like she continues to made with 1000s of corespondents all over the globe) the techniques on how to obtain expecting naturally, how you can cope with being actually expecting, correct health and nutrition during pregnancy, needed exercises and tasks ... effective ways to possess a secure delivery and also give birth to a well-balanced baby young boy or even girl. Various other myths instruct ladies to transform their diets prior to conceiving a kid since there is an opinion that specific foods will certainly increase the odds of a boy. For more name concepts, browse through our infant title search that permits you to seek titles by definition and source. Third and final, this magic is done in the visibility from 5 thousand men, certainly not counting women and also children. Genevieve is a best choice for parents who prefer a 'generation' seeming label, yet are actually tired from the worn-out Jen labels. Exactly what I specifically liked about Pregnancy Magic is exactly how quick and easy to read through and also easy to observe this is 250 web pages from top quality web content backed up through an one on one appointment with Lisa Olsen herself. The magic" required for the canonization regards the scenario of little bit of Lucas Baptista, who account needs to time been shrouded in secrecy. Alia And The Story From The Flower is a book that introduces youngsters to the hijab. This has two X chromosomes to make a little one girl and also an X as well as Y chromosome to conceive a little one kid. The veteran Captain Clifford Keech, navigated his watercraft so that the workers could get the young boy on the starboard side. There are actually a terrific numerous tales around that say to from such difficult accomplishments as well as adventures. I bear in mind the day when I discovered a $20.00 bill as well as that fed my going without food household for three days (that is an account for another day). Pregnancy Wonder has assisted thousands of females and also are going to present you exactly Just what Leads to Impotence and also how to resolve it. They imagine having a little one boy or a child woman as well as would certainly more than happy it matters not if their youngster is one or the other. They come in several types, yet many remarkable is the back-to-the-future kind exhibited in Zog 19." As I claimed before, I 'd review this tale recently, probably might have skipped that because that was actually so instilled in my memory, but I didn't, was in fact most thrilled to lastly reach this. Pinckney Benedict's foreign language is poetic and also thus precise that when Zog 19 holes his fingers apart in a cutter collision and also may just wail his vernacular Toot! Peopled with a selection from New South grotesques, the account fixate Reward, a younger bare-fisted competitor brand new to the neighborhood, as well as Tannhauser, a deranged, 12-fingered wilds medication lord with a taste for sadism. When they face them, you are increasing a female or even a kid that are going to possess a different story along with which to counter the social opinions. Today, our tale discovers him alone, resting under a plant, looking for some kind of shelter from the putting storm. A kid with autism that is actually captivated along with criminal activity on TELEVISION, is felt as an awesome behind a set from homicides happen in your area. You likewise may want to maintain it to on your own till after you are actually expectant that you were actually using the info in Lisa Olson's Pregnancy Wonder to assist you in order to get pregnant. And also they were worried and started examining the little bit of kid yet the blood stream was actually not coming from the little bit of child this was actually coming from the flowers. If you liked this information and you would certainly like to receive additional details concerning mountains of mourne song (negozio--dinutrizione11.info) kindly visit our page. I obtained the wonder A Program in Miracles teaches-a correct shift in understanding.