#that'd kill my curls though

[chicohungers24-7]

Gotta say though I did not like Anna Taylor Joy as Furiosa. Nothing against her acting the movie's phenomenal but she just doesn't look like a younger Furiosa to me

[void-wolfie]

Inhale

summary: Jenna helps you through an asthma attack. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

words: 1.5k

tw: asthma attack (is that something that needs a warning?), mentions of smoking, my crappy writing

a/n: hope this lives up to your expectations anon, (totally not inspired by that video of Jenna smoking)

*I don't have asthma myself so this is based on the little research I did, if it's not accurate I apologize

"Rough day at work?" You asked, watching as Jenna hurriedly put her cigarette out. Ignoring how you could already feel your lungs tightening with the smoke in the air.

"Jesus, y/n, you scared me."

You'd just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep between the warm sheets. But you couldn't help but spot Jenna on the balcony, watching the bustling city below.

"Those things will kill ya, you know," You said, referring to the cigarette still burning in the ashtray.

"They'll kill you long before they kill me," She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, "You know you shouldn't be out here when I smoke."

"Yeah, yeah..." you scuffed your shoe along the ground, avoiding eye contact with the actress.

You hated being babied over your asthma, you hated Percy for getting her addicted to those stupid cigarettes, but most of all, you hated how the past week you've been so busy you've barely been able to see your girlfriend.

"Come on, let's go inside," She nodded her head to the door, but you made no indication of moving.

"I want to stay out here a little longer with you." You gave her those big puppy dog eyes, the ones you knew she couldn't deny. "It's nice out and I miss you."

"I don't want to trigger your asthma though,"

"Just for a little while, please?"

Part of you knew it was a bad idea, sitting in the chilly air where she'd been smoking only moments ago. But you didn't want to go in just yet. It was nice out, the cool breeze felt good against your skin, even though it pierced through your lungs. It was fairly quiet for once, despite the city below and the soft hum of Jenna's music in the background.

She sighed and her shoulders dropped. How could she ever say no to those adorable eyes? "Fine, but the minute you start coughing we're going inside,"

"Deal."

You weren't going to tell her how you'd been battling your asthma all day, nor how the second you stepped outside you could feel your chest tighten, your breathing becoming just a tad more labored. All that would do is make her worry more, and she worries about you enough already.

You leaned against the railing next to Jenna, taking in the scenery below. She took the blanket that'd been wrapped around her shoulders and draped it around the both of you, cuddling into your side.

"How was work?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Annoying." You scoffed, "My producer was in a bad mood all day, it was like trying to work with an overgrown toddler."

"And the new album?" She pushed herself into your side, wrapping herself around you. You could make out the smell of smoke on her and the blanket, which your lungs were not happy about.

"It's coming along, still has a long way to go," a small cough wracked your body and you could make out the worried look on her face from the corner of your eye.

You went to take a deep breath, to steady yourself, only it was like your lungs couldn't inflate. You'd had asthma attacks before, but this one felt different, worse. It was like breathing through a paper straw with an elephant sitting on your chest.

"y/n?"

You could barely hear her call out to you through the coughing and the dull ringing in your ears.

No, no, no... Not now...

"I- I can't-"

Jenna's whole attention was on you now. You were putting almost all your weight on the railing in front of you, not having the strength to hold yourself up at the moment. You started wheezing in-between coughing, the look on your face told her all she needed to know.

"Shit." She ran inside, racing to the bathroom to grab your spare inhaler.

When she got back, you were sitting on the floor, your back against the railing.

You weren't coughing much anymore, mostly wheezing, possibly on the verge of hyperventilating. You couldn't think straight, the lack of air and the onset of panic muddling your thoughts. All you could focus on was the rapid rise and fall of your chest, how your lungs didn't feel like they were inflating at all, or if they were even working. It was hell.

Jenna was doing her best to stay calm. Panicking right now would only make things worse for you, but she was worried. She hadn't seen you have an attack this bad in a while.

She shook the inhaler before popping the cap off. She kneeled in front of you and slid the inhaler into your hand, guiding it toward your face.

It took you a moment to figure out what was happening. There was an inhaler in your hand, inches from your face, and Jenna was kneeling in front of you looking terrified.

You did your best to take a deep breath, it was almost painful, like trying to break through your ribcage from the inside out. You pushed the inhaler to your mouth and pushed down on the top. There was a rush of cool air as you inhaled. Your lungs were burning, aching for any sort of air they could get, your chest rising and falling faster as they started bringing in more air.

It took another puff from the inhaler before you finally started to settle. Your breathing finally slowed to a semi-normal pace.

"Talk to me, love," Jenna was hovering in front of you, concern etched into her features.

"Inside, please," You managed to get out between heavy breaths.

Jenna helped you up. Slinging one of your arms around her shoulders as she helped you inside and onto the couch.

Your chest still ached from all the coughing, and your throat felt like it was on fire. You could already feel the medicine kicking in, your chest wasn't nearly as tight, and your hands were starting to shake.

"How can I help?" Jenna asked, cupping your face in her hands. You'd barely noticed the tear tracks streaming down your face, the way your vision blurred from unshed tears. But it didn't escape Jenna's attention. She wiped away the tears with her thumbs, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

"Water?"

"Of course," She had to stop herself from sprinting to the kitchen, settling instead on a fast-paced walk so she wouldn't look like a madman running off.

You gave her a weak smile, gratefully taking the water from her. It felt like magic against the back of your throat, like rain in the middle of a drought.

"Anything else?" she asked, a little less worried now that your breathing had mostly returned to normal.

"Cuddles?" You asked, making grabby hands toward your girlfriend, wanting nothing more than to forget about your shitty day and fall asleep.

She giggled, grabbing your hands and intertwining your fingers with her own, placing a gentle kiss on the back of one of your palms.

"Ok, but let me shower first." You pouted, not liking the idea of having to separate from Jenna, "I'll only be a few minutes. I just want to get the smell of smoke off me."

"Fineeee"

Normally, Jenna liked to take scalding hot showers, bask in the warm water and let the day's worries melt away. But not tonight. She took a shower as quickly as she could, not wanting to leave your side for very long, not when it wouldn't take much for you to have another episode.

When Jenna got out of the shower, she found you still in the living room, sprawled out across the couch asleep. You still had your inhaler clutched in one hand, holding it close to your chest as if you were scared to have another attack in the middle of the night.

She hated seeing you like this, and she hated not being able to help you even more. One of her greatest fears was you not being able to get to your inhaler in time, essentially dying from suffocation. The idea scared her half to death and put an ache in her heart she never wanted to feel again.

She didn't want to move you, you looked too peaceful on the couch, but she didn’t want to leave you alone either. So she settled on the idea of sleeping on the couch with you instead.

She went into your bedroom, yanking one of the blankets off the bed, and carrying it into the living room. She gently took the inhaler from your hand, making sure to set it within arm's reach on the coffee table.

You woke up to the feeling of her hands in yours. A feeling you adored, "Cuddles now?" You asked, trying to fight off the urge to fall back asleep.

"Sure," She laid down with you, letting you get comfortable between her legs as you laid your head on her chest. She covered the both of you with the blanket, making sure you were cozy.

"Love you," You mumbled, barely awake as you let the sound of her heartbeat lull you to sleep.

"I love you too," She whispered, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your eyes.

[silverschaos]

bite my tongue / tate langdon.

Pairing: Tate Langdon x Reader Description: You turn into a flirt and Tate apparently has an issue with that. Warnings: mentions of murder (more specifically tate wanting to murder someone 💀), mentions of death. Word Count: 1290 A/N: listen ive never wrote tate before and i wasn't gonna but im in my ahs rewatch era and... this happened. i also ramble a lot. sry. apparently i need a backstory for everything and dont know how to end things 😩

The thing was you'd been stuck in this house for years. Years upon years and you were starting to get bored. So bored that you'd decided to seek out some 'fun' as you called it. Did that fun consist of trying to find someone in the house that you could spend some time with? It sure did but what else was there to do? You couldn't leave, you couldn't go out and live the normal life that'd you'd planned before you'd met your untimely demise so the house and its inhabitants were all you had to occupy your time with. It wasn't like you were seeking to sleep with anyone. Just a little flirt here and there but it was enough to make your best friend - Tate Langdon - furious.

This wasn't you. You didn't do things like this. That was why Tate liked you. You were everything he wasn't. You were good, you were kind, you liked to see the best in people. As long as he'd known you, he'd never seen you this way.

Tate was at his wits end when he saw you flirting with his mom's old boyfriend. What was his name again? Travis. That was it. Tate had never been a fan. Not that he cared who his mother dated. He didn't in the slightest but he cared about who you were messing around with. It seemed like you'd taken a shine to Travis. The mere thought of that stirred up the rage swirling within him. Was there a way to kill someone that was already dead?

"Why do you care who she spends her time with anyway?" Hayden asked him one day when he stood watching you laughing at something Travis said.

"Because she's my best friend."

"Best friend? Okay, sure."

Tate rounded on Hayden, an accusatory brow raised. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Hayden laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

Weeks passed and it was getting harder and harder for Tate to not say anything. It was driving him crazy. Well crazier than he already was. His jaw clenched as he watched you flirty place your hand on Travis' chest. That rage flared within him again -- imagining a thousand different ways he'd kill Travis if he was actually still alive.

Meanwhile, you were oblivious to Tate's inner turmoil. Travis was fun, he made you laugh and maybe, besides Tate, he was the only decent looking one in the house. Minus Ben but he was about thirty years older than you and the thought alone made you want to barf. That was a no-go. And, Tate, well, he was your best friend. He had been before you died and he was still now when you were both stuck in this purgatory hell of a house. Maybe once or twice you'd thought about what it'd be like to kiss him but that was it. Definitely not daily. Definitely not something you'd had dreams about. Nope.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Tate watching you talk to Travis. He leaned against the doorframe of the spare bedroom adorned in one of his infamous striped sweaters, his hair a mess of blonde curls. The look on his face was anything but friendly, though. It was a look you'd recognise anywhere. A look that would make a lot of people quiver in their boots but not you.

Tate had been your first friend in high school when you'd first started there. Technically, he didn't really have a say in it. For some reason the school had thought it was a good idea for him to be the one to show you around thinking it would be nice for him to talk to other students since he was often a recluse. At first, he didn't utter a word to you as he walked you around the school then he started opening up a little bit more. Soon, you found yourself seeking out his company, spending time together outside of school. He confided his secrets in you and vice versa. So, when you had the accident on his front lawn and he found you, that had been the start of his spiral. Losing his best friend like that - along with everything else he'd gone through - had been the tip of the iceberg.

He had his demons, you had yours but still even now he was the one person you knew would always be by your side. He was a terrible person - there was no doubt about that but there was also a side to him that only you knew and that was the side you hopelessly clung onto. It was why you'd defend him whenever anyone in the house started to say anything against him. The rational side of you knew they had every right to call him the names they did but your heart wouldn't have it.

Another glance in Tate's direction and you saw that he'd disappeared. Saying your goodbye to Travis, you headed out into the hallway. "Tate?"

It took a millimetre of a second before he came out of the next room, arms folded over his chest looking at you. "What?"

"Okay, wow, did someone piss in your cereal?"

"Ha ha, hilarious," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Your eyes narrowed, folding your own arms across your chest.

Flabbergasted, Tate shook his head in disbelief that you were even asking such a question. "I can't keep biting my tongue anymore. I have to say something."

"About?"

"You! And how you're acting! Seriously, do you think I haven't noticed you throwing yourself over Travis especially? Are you just trying to make me mad? This isn't you! You don't do this. You're... you're the good one. You're the one that makes good decisions." Tate ran a hand over his face, his eyes almost pleading as he looked at you.

"Why is it any of your business who I flirt with anyway? Maybe this is me now. Maybe being stuck in this place for the rest of eternity changed me. Maybe I'm just like everyone else here." You shot back at him. Hopefully the faux confidence in your voice threw him off the fact that your dead heart was beating hard against your chest.

"Because I love you! I love you and you don't even look at me!"

That threw you off centre. Literally. You almost fell backwards, having to place a hand on the wall beside you to right yourself. All the air was knocked out of you. Surely he hadn't really just said that.

"I know you better than anyone here," Tate continued, taking a step forward. A cautious one. "You're not like anyone here. You never will be. I won't let you be. You are the only thing I care about in this forsaken place and I won't let this house ruin you like it did me. So, stop. Please, stop. I can't stand by and watch you throw yourself at everyone else when I've been right here the whole time."

Tears brimmed in your eyes when you noticed his eyes were watering, too. Tate had always been a sensitive boy. Constance always said it and you always witnessed it first hand. Seeing him cry always broke you. Taking a step forward, you place a hand gently on his cheek, wiping his eyes with the pad of your thumb.

"Okay," you said, softly. "I'll stop. For you. I'm sorry. I-I didn't know."

"S'fine."

"No, it's not. And, for the record, I think I love you, too."

And, there it was, that infamous Tate Langdon smile that you would never, ever tire of seeing. Eternity wouldn't be so bad if you saw that everyday.

[regularconvexheadcanons]

*Oh I love how you expanded now I need to throw more at ya!*

OKAY SO- First fluff! :D Scar is the one to Actually purr like a cat compared to Cub! But both sound more than happy when with the other. Like purring big cat meets sated Siren.

Ohoh and! The way they learn! Cubs experiments are on everything else since he's got himself down pat right? What more could he learn? Apparently a l o t when one Mr. Goodtimes and the Vex is added to the mix!

Scar though? He learns like every second without knowledge is dying. From Vex to Spawners to his own Redstone that he tries to upkeep and remember- and his biggest monument to that is not only Scarland but the *c i t y* he built with Cub. They're matches in ways that nulls any other Hermit. (Scars hair is soft, hes warm, hes a perfect weight, a living reminder to care for himself, and the purrings nice to Cubs own humming)

It's not hard to see them silently watching each other like bugs under a rock. It's their favorite past time!

Now for Angst!

Scar being more "helpful" to Cub when they come back from Double Life - It was already bad last time from Last Life, a shaken Scar calling for Cub but- each sound like an Allay longing to get Out to get Free to be Home- that die as he clings to Cub.

In order to make things fair, Scars very much limited in how much the Vex can Know what hes going through- except Cub. Soulhalfs mean he can take the time to channel to Scar, watch from his eyes, and unfortunately one of the times that Cub first sees in a session? The first time Scar catches Grian cheating on him with BigB. It's also the first time Cub is Flooded with Vex *Anger*- not quite Rage, not yet- but he's unable to stop looking like a bloody Vex until the Song has to be used, claws in his hair, sharp rows of teeth cooing to Cub in his ears.

When Cub has had enough of Scar being to timid, so scared of Existing around Cub, he basically kidnaps Scar. Takes him to a woodland mansion, kills the Evokers that'd try to take them, and croons to Scar until there's nothing left in Scars head. Did Scar want to he comforted like this? Yes. Yes he did but he knows to put up a fight, to show hes Alive in a way that matters, or else Cub would take drastic measures. Scar soaks in the attention- unaware of Cub deleting Grians messages to him while Scars finally resting.

It's for his own good. And Cubs selfishness.

ooooooh

Scar purring and Cub humming? Yes. Absolutely. I can so see that. And only the other can hear it as well.

Them loving to learn stuff has now given me a headcanon that Vex are really REALLY curious. And Allays, which is why they always stray away from where they are. And Cub thinking he understands people, and science, until the Vex and Scar come along and completely blow his mind

Yes. They do love hugging each other, and are perfectly suited to each other. It’s adorable. They can just curl up next to each other, and know the positions where they��re both comfortable, and fall asleep next to each other, humming/purring to each other.

Scar helping Cub and being around Cub a lot after Double Life? Yes. All the yes. So much yes. He wants to prove to someone that he’s not annoying, he’s helpful, he’s friendly, Grian had the problem, right? This isn’t Scar’s fault, surely.

Scar being able to call/communicate with Cub from afar? Again, so much yes. I already headcanon that either can intentionally summon vex where the other is so they can talk to the other, or warn them, or call for help. But the idea of it happening unintentionally when they’re stressed, or being able to use vex to spy on the other? And Cub only seeing the worst moments in the Life Series when he tries it and getting incredibly upset as every vex he summons, or is summoned to him, is just shrieking, and terrified, or angry, or upset. even needing to go to a safe room to calm down? I love it. It’s so angsty. And it fits with my soulbound vexling lore already, of course they’d both be able to control the same Vex, they became vexlings because of them.

And Cub hearing the Song of the Vex to calm him down? Yes. And then kidnapping Scar, taking him as far as he can and just caring for him for a few days afterwards? Ohhh yes. I headcanon that after every life series or stressful session, Cub handles Scar’s injuries, and calms him down. But, after just how upset Scar became in Double Life, forcing them to be alone AGAIN because Scar just isn’t calming down, and he can’t cope with thinking about it? Oh I love it.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Changes chapter 38

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"Newspapers!"

Maria frowned as she heard Max exclaim, looking at him, wondering if he was alright.

"I never thought of it, but her going missing-"

"It would have been in the papers!" Maria grinned, the pieces clicking together. "If we know how long ago she went missing, I can search the papers in the library. Maybe they kept some of a year or two ago?"

Max nodded, throwing the paper ruined by his spilt coffee in the trashcan. "That'd be great. If you go tomorrow, you don't have to come into work at night. I'll consider those research hours as hours worked."

Maria smiled, easily agreeing to his proposal. "Not that I'm not grateful or anything, but has it anything to do with that new lady you hired?"

"I would call in Lucy for work, yes."

"You like her."

"She's intriguing." Max decided.

"Does Julie know yet?"

"No."

Maria grinned, jumping to sit on the counter. "You actually like like her! You should take her out on a date."

"She'd never agree to that, I'm her boss."

"Believe me, I'm quite certain she likes you too. Just give it a go. What's the worst thing that can happen?"

Max didn't say a thing as scenarios popped into his head. Her refusing him, her accepting, her accepting but then standing him up, her accepting but then ending up in an accident and bleeding and him vamping out?

There was a lot that could happen.

Not that he would let it come that far. Besides, he was centuries old, and the last time he had accidentally killed a human? He couldn't remember.

"No, I'll make you a deal," Maria interrupted his thoughts, "if I go to the ,library and do my research tomorrow, you have to ask Miss E out on a date."

"Miss E?"

"Her name's Lucy Emerson, right? So, Miss E."

Max was about to respond, but when a customer came to the checkout, he quickly forgot just what he had meant to say.

Michael stood on the boardwalk, his brother leaving him for the comic book store, and him now nervously watching as a girl got her ears pierced. It looked painful, despite the owner telling the girl that it was nothing. Still, Michael pondered, the boys the girl from last night was with had earrings, so maybe he should gave them too.

"It's a rip off."

He frowned. What?

"Those earrings. They are a rip off."

It was the girl from the night before, her loose curls swinging gently as she walked a couple of steps in front of him.

"I'm Star, by the way."

"Star?" Michael tasted the name in his mouth, grinning. "I like Star. So eh, your parents were hippies too then?"

"What do you mean by that?" Star turned around, a threatening glare in her eyes.

"Nothing, nothing!" He shrugged, "just that I was this close to being called Moonbeam or something."

The girl looked at him before laughing, a clear sparkling sound. "So, what did they end up choosing?"

"Michael."

"Michael?" Star repeated it, a teasing grin on her face. Of course, that summer camp was a long time ago. She had been different back then, more shy and quiet. But she would have imagined that Michael would have remembered her. Apparently, he did not. Star did not mind too much, though. She could win him over either way. "I like Michael."

"So, ehr, do you want to grab a bite or something?" Michael asked as he sped up to walk next to her, leading her towards his bike. He was glad to see Star nod.

Star smiled uneasily as Michael followed her. She liked him, the way he looked and held himself in the crowd, the way he seemed self-conscious and tried to look tougher than he was. It was endearing, and she hated to admit that she really liked it.

Maybe it was because of the ruthlessness of the boys she lived with now that she wanted someone who was so ordinary. Maybe it was because of the way he smiled and captured her mind.

She didn't know. All she knew was that when she was around him, her senses were focused only on him. No longer would she smell the rest of the boardwalk, no longer would she have to fight to control her bloodlust. There was no one else. Only him.

The bloodlust was getting worse, eventhough she tried to ignore it. It had been a little over a week since she had drank from the bottle, changing so her brother wouldn't have to go through all that alone. Laddie had taken to being a half vampire, being allowed to drink from the bottle if he got thirsty, so he wouldn't have to live with killing someone quite yet. So he had the chance to grow a bit older. Max had demanded it to be so, much to Star's chagrin.

Of course, she was happy for Laddie that he could stay half mortal for a while longer. But her? She didn't want to kill someone. She didn't want to take another's life so she could live. So, in the past eight or nine days, she had spent ignoring her bloodlust. Ignoring the hunger inside her, ignoring the way it flared up and how hard it was to control it.

She wouldn't kill.

She couldn't.

Right?

David had been keeping an eye on Star all night. Last night when she'd gotten home she'd seem distracted. Her mind was no longer focused on her younger brother, or on ignoring the hunger and glaring at the boys whenever they did something. Instead, her thoughts kept drifting off to a human boy.

Star didn't know that David could occasionally read minds, and she didn't know he was particularly skilled at reading her thoughts.

David hadn't known why. Maybe, he thought to himself, she was a loud thinker. Maybe she didn't have any thoughts worth having, so the ones she did have showed up louder. He sighed as he lit a cigarette, knowing his last thought was far from true. He had noticed, in the way she had readily sacrificed herself - a term she liked to use - to help her younger brother. In the way she noticed which of the boys she needed to talk to to get what she wanted. In the way she had somehow managed to have an actual conversation with Julie.

Star was smart. She knew what she was doing, and even though she had made a big mistake by allowing herself to be turned into a vampire, she still tended to keep her head in the game. So, knowing all this, David could not help but wonder why this human boy was so special.

He saw Star approaching him, the boy in question following her. As David looked at them, eyes focused on the mortal, it suddenly clicked. He didn't know who the boy was, but David knew one thing for certain.

He would be one of them.

Next chapter >

[princess-of-the-corner]

, https://www.tumblr.com/princess-of-the-corner/760014570043604992/so-just-a-bit-of-random-dc-trivia-but-theres?source=share

A fair concern :)

As an aside that was a really clever idea for your ML world building regarding why other heroes showing up would be an issue, especially as we see how much a damage a Miraculous wielder being Akumatized can do.

Though hmm, I think at one point Superman has sucked down a bombs worth of Joker gas and was fine, so I'm not sure Fear Toxin could effect him.

Like it might? & if he goes into panic mode over curl up in a ball mode yeah that'd be real bad.

But I think you need Kryptonite to have poisons do anything to Kryptonians, they are fundamentally broken XD Though in all fairness I think comic canon varies wildly on that front so fair point and given how careful Clark is, likely something he'd take into consideration on his own.

As it is I'd say Mad Hatter would be a big concern cos mind control is always a big concern everywhere all the time.

Granted that also applies to Batman as he knows many secret identities & refuses to stop stockpiling "ways to kill my allies" plans. Despite multiple major super villains knowing his identity, where he lives & how to access his equipment XD

I think most heroes tend to stay out of each others business as a matter of etiquette. Its why "Let's you and him fight" tend to happen when they cross into each others territory without a call ahead first.

Low key the fact heroes often have territory kind of amuses me cos it can make them feel like gangs of one or like ten in their own right.

"Don't step on Krpyto-Gangs turf unless you're packing Kryptonite!"

XD

This is also why Bruce showing up to pursue a murderer (She was justified) in Wonder Woman's city & insisting he will "Go through" Diana when she tells him to fuck off ends with Bruce eating pavement cos how else was that going to end hahaha.

Yeah it's a thing of stay out of each other's jurisdiction because typically the local Heroes know how to handle the local Villains.

Especially in the ML thing where Akumatization is a type of mind control. Or at least allows the Villain into your head. Even if he isn't able to actually Akumatize the Hero, he still has access to some thoughts and may glean some info regarding weaknesses or secret identities or god knows what else.

[happypolicecherry]

Inspired by the podcast "Dangerously yours". This doesn't have a specific character name, but I did write it with Alhaitham in mind.

Mentions of su!cide and gűns so if you're sensitive to these topics, do step away.

I imagined that Y/n had somehow tackled Alhaitham into the ground and had one of her hand wrapped around his neck. While the other hold a loaded gůn.

Again, although I wrote it with Alhaitham in mind, I didn't use any character's name, so feel free to do whatever.

Usage of she/her pronouns.

"You mean you're actually going to kill me?"

"I mean just that." Her jaw clenched, gripping the gun that's held closely to the side of his head.

"Well, go ahead." His eyes bore into hers. Amused. Almost as if he's sure she won't kill him. What makes him so certain? Thousands of questions ran through her head and each of them tugs at her heart. With every question and doubt that comes to mind, the tighter her grip on the gun becomes.

"Pull the trigger." He spoke. Noticing how she is growing more hesitant as time passes by.

"I'll do this my own way." She replied, pushing the gun into him in retaliation. She chokes on her emotions as her hand quivered. This was hard on her. She didn't ask for this. Who knew the guy she had fallen in love with would be someone wanted by her agency?

"You won't do it."

"You can't pull the trigger." His hand reaches for her cheek, caressing her face gently. His lips curl upwards when he notices her eyes start watering. If she hadn't learned anything from the past few days, his smile would've been a pleasant sight.

One that'd make her giddy and wonder how she could be so lucky to be on the receiving end of that smile. That damn smile. It's a sad feeling when something that used to make you feel full changed into a gutting one.

"You can't pull it because you love me." You're right. She thought. She nod as she pulled the gun away from his head, moving away in shame. He sighs, disappointment evident in the way he rolls his eyes.

"That was pathetic, Y/n. I reckoned you were a person who had higher pride." He rubs his face, looking away from her. "I must say, if you had kept the strong front from earlier, I would've considered this a worthwhile experience."

He heard the gun clicks, he glances over to her, half expecting it to be aimed at him and a tear-stricken Y/n, driven by fury. What he faces instead is Y/n with a gun to her head.

"But I can kill me." As soon as she finishes her words, she shot herself. It was too quick of death, she fell instantly as the bullet killed her.

All lovers have their dispute over major events. Could be one where they forgot to do the dishes or the laundry. You name it. There is nothing such as perfect love in this world.

Unfortunately for her, though. It seems like her version of a lover quarrel involves heavy gunpowder bullshit.

[charnelhouse]

Hello Charnie ♡ i am dying on my period rn and it got me thinking. that part in no promises where ghost is sitting next to red and she starts crying from her hangover despite having suffered worse bodily injuries kinda reminded me of myself. I've gotten some pretty decent injuries and usually didn't cry. But my period cramps? Lord help me. They will absolutely bring me to the floor crying and whimpering, I don't know what it is about them. But it made me want to write a lil soft simon thing (him and red aren't together yet but I'm tying in golden net and how ghost can always sense when red is in pain)(ghost is in a bad mood for no given reason)(this is so very long im sorry):

It's late as ghost walks down the halls of the barracks. Everyone is already asleep in their small rooms, the only noise is the rasp of his boots and the slight buzz of the florescent lights above. Simon walks quickly, heavily. He wants to go to bed, be done with this hellish day that he'd only grown more sick of as it went on. He tries to curb his agitation, settle his mind if he wants to even have a shot at sleeping.

Sleeping never comes easy for him.

He sighs deep, tries to roll out his muscles as he walks. He tries to curb his sour mood, put a stop to his tension, but his mind swirls with his aggravations, each trying to take center stage in his mind, whooshing around, on the verge of giving him a goddamn headache and—

Suddenly he feels a pull in his chest, in his tummy. His mind abruptly goes quiet. He realizes he's approaching Red's door. Red. Red. He hasn't seen Red all day. He and Price got sent out early, early even for the military, and they hadn't been back till now. He hasn't seen Red all day. The pull gets stronger, he walks faster. Had she been sent out today? Did she return with any injuries? He doesn't like the sensation in his body.

He's now square at her door. His hand twitches at his side, he doesn't want to risk waking her up, but... he hasn't seen her all day. If he could just lay eyes on her, look at her and see she's alright, that'd satisfy him.

He turns the knob and her door opens, and even though it's given him access to what he wanted, now he wants to scold her. Why is your door unlocked? You can't get too comfortable, red, always lock your door. Because it's dangerous and stupid—

His annoyance dissolves instantly when he does finally lay eyes on her. Her little bedside lamp is on, she's all curled in on herself, brows furrowed, fists all balled up. He knows that form, she's hurt, he knew it. She didn't even hear him enter, only opening her eyes and looking towards him once she hears the door shut behind him.

He sees her eyes. There's exhaustion and tears  in them. His stomach drops. It must be bad if she's crying, Foxy's a trooper, she doesn't cry.

"Oh, hi Lieutenant." Her voice sounds weak, unfilled. "How was your guys mission today?"

"Are you hurt?" Disregarding her question, he strides over to her.

She starts to rise and prop herself up, trying to discreetly wipe her face and eyes as she does. "Umm.. no. I mean, not really. I'm fine." She gives him a weak smile.

"You look hurt, Red. What's wrong?" He can't believe she's really trying to lie to him when it's so clear something  is hurting her.

"It's nothing! I'm fine, it's nothing—"

There's more hushed arguing over her obviously false statements. She finally gives it up to him: alright Lt alright. I'm just on my period, that's all, I'm fine. I'm just.. hurting a little from it.

It takes him by surprise. Her period? Cramping has her like this..? Granted, he's a man, what would he know, but... the girl had taken bullets, been sliced open, beaten and bruised. And sure, he had seen her eyes water, anybody's would, but she didn't cry. How bad must these cramps be?

Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "Yeah, that's all. But I can't sleep. This off-brand Advil is not working," she chuckles to herself, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "I'd kill for a heating pad."

He quirks his brows. "A heating pad?" He asks lamely.

"Mhm," she gives him a little nod, gestures to her back and hips, "the heat, it feels nice. It helps."

He looks over her again. Her body looks tired. Her sheets and blankets are all tussled about her bed. He wonders how long she's been trying to get comfortable, alleviate the pain. Heating pad. Heat. It feels nice. It helps. He doesn't think they have that on the base. He hates that this pain is keeping her up, she needs to sleep. He moves to her before thinking.

"Here— lay on your stomach for a minute." She gives him a questioning look. "Just do it, Red."

He's at the side of her bed, putting one knee up on it. "Here." Hesitantly, carefully, he splays his palms over her lower back and hips. She tenses slightly at the contact, but then the warmth of his palms seeps through her sleeping shirt, melting onto the skin underneath. She relaxes and sinks, lets out a little moan that he tries so very hard not to fixate on and amplify in his mind.

"Oh my god. Ghost that feels so nice," she breathes out.

He smiles, just a little, under his mask. He's always run hot, much to his own discomfort, but right now it's useful. He's making her feel better. Something is ballooning in his chest.

After a minute, she speaks. "It would feel nice if your hands were right on my skin." She must of realized what she said because she quickly tries to backtrack, "But you don't have to, I was just- it'd just-"

She's so naive. She's got no clue. He'd never deny her anything.

He pushes her shirt up to the middle of her back. Her pretty skin, her battle scars, exposed to him. He's never seen this part of her and she looks like art, sculpted and beautiful. Figures.

He sets his hands back down on her, on to her bare skin. She's warm and so fucking soft. She's so small under him, his large hands on her body. His breath hitches. He tells his brain to knock it off, this is about making Red feel better. That's the mission right now.

She shifts under him trying get his hands where she wants them. He lets her, sinking them in when she finds the spot. He rubs little circles into her with his thumbs.

"There you go, love. Relax." Love. Christ, how did she get him like this?

"Thank you Simon," she says quietly, gratefully. She takes in a deep breath, her body relaxes further. She's got her eyes closed, her lashes rest on the curve of her cheek. Her trust of him is so genuine, different than the usual trust you need in the military. It's the dead of night and she trusts him, Simon Riley, enough to be in her room with his hands on her skin. She's vulnerable, and she trusts him that much. It squeezes at his heart. Ah, that's how.

For a few minutes, he sits with her. Letting his hands drown her muscles and bones with heat. Pressing the rough pads of his fingers into her, gently squeezing her. Occasionally rubbing over the expanse of skin.

"That better Foxy?" No answer. "Foxy?"

He shifts so he can see her face. No tears. No twisted muscles. Good. Her eyes are still closed and she looks peaceful. Breathing steadily.

"You fallin' asleep on me, kid?" He knows he's not getting an answer.

He pulls his hands away from her skin, his body hating the loss of her. He wants to touch her. Hold her. Press his face and lips into her. It pains him to leave her.

But he smooths her shirt back down, covering her from the cold of the room. He pulls the sheets and blankets over her, tucking her in.

He moves up to her nightstand to turn off the light. Her face is half buried in her pillow, knocked out. He smiles at her, he's glad she's not like him, he's glad she can get to sleep easily.

"Goodnight, Red." His hand moves with its own will, pushing her hair off the side of her face that's not buried.

He allows himself to touch her face, just for a moment. The backs of his fingers moving across her cheek. He presses his palm to her, thumb stroking the delicate skin under her eye, a featherlight touch he didn't know he was capable of.

Oh how he ached for her.

He flicks off her light, moving quietly along the tile floor. He casts one more look at her from the doorway and closes the door. Making sure to lock it behind him.

His mind is calm, body no longer carrying its tension, only the sensation of Red's skin under his hands remaining.

Red is asleep, a feeling of accomplishment warmly washes over him. And for the first time all night, Simon thinks he'll be able to sleep.

Omgggg I could die!!! This was absolute perfection. I desperately have needed some ghost inspo to finish mausoleum and this has done it

The below was so on point. Beyond 141, Red would never trust anyone because of how vulnerable she is in a male dominated profession. Love!!!

Her trust of him is so genuine, different than the usual trust you need in the military. It's the dead of night and she trusts him, Simon Riley, enough to be in her room with his hands on her skin. She's vulnerable, and she trusts him that much. It squeezes at his heart. Ah, that's how.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Ok so Zeb's in a cage, Jack was/is being crushed by the physical embodiment of bureaucracy, Null took their mask off, the judge is already bored and we've still got half a pie left...

The straps of the muzzle bite into your skin and strain against the rest of your skull, bringing back the headache you've been fighting off for hours now. The holding cage is small, smaller than the one they've confined Zeb to, so your only choice is to remain in animal form for the time being or be stuck in some horrible position for god only knows how long.

The paper judge has your sword, hung at an awkward angle on the wall... curtain... empty air(??) behind them where you can't get at it.

You're tired, exhaustion seeping into your skeleton and nesting there, pulling the rest of your body down towards the edges of sleep.

You feel like this trial has gone on for days and days, even though it's only been a few hours now.

The Bureaukrat lays curled around the bench, head resting on its massive inky claws, eyes firmly fixed on you. Streams of ink-smoke curl from its nose and the gaps between its horrible teeth, pouring into your cage through the spaces between the bars. It smells like cold and liminal waiting rooms and the deep disapproval of DMV clerks waiting for you to cough up the right paperwork.

There is a pixie on the witness stand, made visible by a large arrangement of magnifying glasses held in place by more of the judge's disembodied hands, and you wonder for a brief moment if the judge is the paper or the hands or if they're both the same entity but you're muzzled so it's not like you can really ask.

The pixie is pink and white and spidery, his name is Pipsqueak and he's lived in your house for his entire life which is probably why he looks so much like your husband, since pixies take on the shape of the very first thing they see as larvae.

Pipsqueak makes several urgent beeping and jingling noises, flailing all 6 of his arms for emphasis and pointing at Zeb every now and again.

You don't speak pixie, you barely speak coherent english on most days but you get the gist of what Pipsqueak is trying to say.

"Dis kid saw me n' his first reaction was ta trow holy water at me! Das like peppa sprayin' a mouse! I didn't even do nuffin to him... yet... bet he'd look real nice wit a new haircut." Pipsqueak flexes 6 sets of fingers menacingly, many eyes narrowed with malice. "But I wouldn't kill him or nuffin, that'd make my boss sad n I don't like when my boss is sad."

The judge nods in understanding, using one of their hands to lift Pipsqueak off the stand so they can usher in the next witness.

You've lost count of how many testimonies you've heard so far, some lobbying for the death of Zebede on principal, some for the fun of a good execution or Just Because.

More people than you expected advocate for letting Zeb live, though for entirely selfish reason, their ideas for his final punishment range from indentured servitude to turning him into a fairy for a certain time frame to straight up giving him to Peter Pan which you're very sure is a violation of the Geneva Convention.

Your friend Gehr'Hedra Soljrkenne, Hunter-King of Virkara, The Third Burning Star, [Our Eclipse Presence, God Of Desperation], the Paleblood Royal, Inheritor of madness, etc ad nauseam who has known you since you were a half formed Concept clinging to empty pages said: "Mercy spits in the face of their existence- adoration proves they have no grasp here. Let him live, and grow to adore Us. A fitting punishment for a weapon is always to make it your own, is it not? The feelings may be savored that way, and executions are so short, so boring." and that seemed to swing quite a few people around to your side of things.

The judge called for a lunch break halfway through the testimony of a very agitated looking Dwarf Lord who had been on duty when Zeb damaged Fairyland's core, and the Bureaukrat let you out of your cage and muzzle for the occasion.

Lunch was laid out in the theater's lobby, with long banquet tables groaning with food snaking down the middle of the space. You were still a little too stressed to have an appetite, but Null refused to let you just not eat. You watched your alchemist disappear in a cloud of faintly glowing vapor only to reappear with a plate loaded with goodies.

A grilled sunflower head dripping with melted butter and spices, split moon-bones with bubbly roasted marrow, a tankard of whisper wine, chunks of dark bread, and a slab of bloody meat that flinched when you bit into it. Null didn't move until you'd finished the entire plate.

You felt better after eating and that pissed you off for some reason.

Your mom crushed you in a hug the first moment she got, the snout of her hyena head nestled deep between your ears, Bud, Lou and Brucie pressing up against the both of you the whole time. She'd crashed onto the stage the second the muzzle had come out and tore quite a few pages off of the Bureaukrat in the following scuffle, a big black ink stain spread across her face and chest where the beast's claws had grazed her. The rest of your family had hopped down from the balcony in a similar fashion and many of them had also been muzzled and restrained, their weapons confiscated by judge and bailiff.

Egg was still in a cage, she kept pulling knives out of random places and stabbing anybody and everybody that got close, as was her custom. You fed her strips of raw meat through the bars of her cage, and ignored how many times she bit you on purpose.

The trial was drawing to a close, the judge's patience wearing thin as boredom crept in on its scaly belly. Your family loaded themselves back into their balcony, eyes bright with rage and worry.

A tall dark figure with the head of a jackal slowly ambled onto the stage. Dressed in a smart dark suit with accents of gold, the great god Anpu (Anubis) gazed at the angry little boy in the golden cage. Ammit, Devoureress of the Dead, sat on her great hippo haunches beside him and bared her crocodile teeth greedily.

Zeb clung to the bars of his cage and glared at Anpu, as if daring the god to come closer, to get within striking range.

Anpu's muzzle crinkled in what might have been a smile. He opened the boy's cage without touching it.

Zeb bolted, only to run smack into the sharp-toothed meat wall that was Ammut.

"Foolish boy." Said Ammut, licking her teeth. "None may escape Death."

Zeb threw a fireball at the monster, which she swallowed whole like a particularly spicy dumpling. You weren't sure if the sound coming out of Ammut was meant to be a growl or a laugh or some horrid combination of both but it made your stomach twist and your hearts nearly stop.

Anpu placed his warm brown hand on Ammut's snout, "Enough." His voice... his voice was endlessly Old and deep, the mournful howling of wind whistling through a tomb, the whisper of funeral incense, the whine of a thousand canines trudging though hot sands beneath the gaze of the burning sun.

Anpu bade Zeb to stand, and the boy refused to obey. Crouched against the wood of the stage with eyes burning burning burning, his hands wreathed in flickering flames and the shreds of divinity that clung to him like a parasite.

The god's muzzle crinkled again in that strange not-smile and he held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I think you and I would be friends in another life, perhaps I will usher you to that new life myself some day if your gods hesitate to claim you."

Zeb didn't move, the flames of his anger burning just that much brighter. "Don't I get to say anything about this? Don't I get to stand up for myself?." He's shaking. "I fucked up, I admit that, I fucked up and now I'm here and now you all want to kill me and that's fair but I don't wanna die."

"Nobody want to die--"

"Shut up I'm not done." Zeb stands up, still glaring, still burning, he points first at Anpu (who he silenced) and then at the judge. "The Knights made you like they made me, so why are you acting like this?"

The judge grins, threads of ink and scraps of wood from their chewed up gavel falling from their teeth. "Just because the Knights made me, doesn't mean I like them or want to do what they say, they left me in charge of a bunch of monster and expected me to behave afterwords... I'm sure you know how that feels."

"You're the Dictates of Preservation, you're supposed to PRESERVE human life, not end it."

The judge, the Dictates, just shrugs. "And you're supposed to kill fairies and witches and demons and anybody else who poses a danger to the Veil, but it looks like we both failed in our quests, little brother."

Zeb scowls, hands balling into fists at his sides. "I don't want to kill anymore, I don't WANT to be a Knight, they left me here to die without a second thought and I don't wanna be like that anymore."

"You're always going to be like that kid, it's woven into your soul and it's never gonna go away." The judge looks sad and manic all at once, like being here and saying this physically hurts. "You can take the boy out of the church, but the church has to be taken out of the boy like shrapnel. One bloody piece at a time..."

"I'm..." Zeb swallows, the fire in his hands weakening, dimming, dying ever so slightly as he fights back tears. "I'm not gonna be like that forever."

But he sounds so unsure of himself.

Anpu clears his through, half forgotten during the conversation. A spotlight spills around him. "Might I make a suggestion?"

The judge tilts their head but doesn't speak, twirling one paper curl of hair around their finger.

"His heart has been weighed and measured by his words," The god nods at Zeb almost proudly. "Though he is guilty of these crimes, and the stains upon his flesh show that Guilt has nested deep in his soul, I find him to be Good and True."

Zeb tugs the sleeves of his shirt further down over his gloves, cheeks heating with embarrassment, Anpu not-smiles at him again with a knowing gleam deep in the god's eyes.

"Death would be too boring like the elf king said, so might I suggest he be sentenced to community service?" The jackal god tilts his head, almost cutely. "He's terrified of you lot, so think about how funny it would be if you all forced him to help you with something for days on end."

"...yeah that works." The judge raps their gavel on the bench and calls the trial to a close.

[independentzaun]

1. What's currently a fantasy you're really into? For Jinx and Silco?

That's almost impossible for me to answer for Silco. It would change so heavily depending on the verse, and who he's interacting with. I could tag people, but let's just say out of the people he might have sex with he has a very different dynamic with all of them. He doesn't really have a fantasy he's currently into because a lot of his own sexual desires come back to power and control and in order to control someone the way he enjoys it depends on the other persons enjoyments.

However, full on CNC. Silco would adore some proper consentual-non con. Not just primal play hunt and catch, but CNC.

As for Jinx, heh....

"I want to take someone, and make them my cute pliable doll. Dress them however I want, and give them a mask or make up so they look less "real" but still recognizable as who they used to be. Move them around, and position them and treat them like a toy before I grind against whatever I want from them... and fuck myself on their cock, or strap. Completely control them, and turn them into a quiet silent adorable lil toy." Eyes narrowing a bit her hands twitched and curled into fists for a second before letting go. "Maybe... maybe depending on the person... have you ever wondered how much pain it'd take to wake a doll up? How much you'd have to break it before it woke up, and whimpered and pleaded for it's creator to stop? And than what it would sound like if it's creator just didn't stop? Don't you think that'd make someone feel like god? After all that's what god does. Any god. All gods. If they exist. They don't just kill people. They break people. They break their toys, and when their toys plead for mercy and release they don't get it. Imagine waking a doll up, and the first words that come from it is "I love you, so please stop" but than you don't because you don't have to... and the only pleasure your doll gets is from being fucked as you grab your strap, and make it feel your presence as deep inside it as possibly as though you are trying to fill it's very soul."

Biting at her bottom lip Jinx pressed her legs together for a moment and took a deep breath. "That's what I want to do."

[wndybyrd]

❛ nobody tells me what to do. ❜

" go away. " what a silly thing for her to have said. no one told him what to do.

of course not. who would dare oppose the all-knowing king of the island ? he whose existence defied all logic and used this advantage to do as he pleased. he'd always do as he pleased, and wendy had always known this. in fact, she'd admired it about him. he was free from the constraints of responsibility that had tied her down in the other place, bound by the expectations of a mother, a father, a brother. she'd always thought that being with him freed her, too, but that would be too good to be true, and things that were 'too good to be true' only happened in her stories. sadly, this wasn't one of her stories, it was his. peter's island, peter's rules, peter's story.

now, even his expectations had begun to weigh heavy on the little girl. they made her curl in on herself, so tight that it felt like the sharp of her kneecaps would pierce right through her ribs. be pretty but be wild. be a mother but be a playmate. be mine be mine be mine. though the mar on her cheek had been quick to fade — only a hint of the red, crooked crescent left, fighting to prove its existence to anyone who bothered to look long enough — the words still stung, perplexing her. she had always been his. for four years, she'd been his. even after all the others had forgotten, abandoning neverland for the other place, she'd clung to his memory with a white-knuckled grip, keeping afloat under the waves of the other place's expectations in the hope he'd return. four years. and then he came. but he'd come for other girls first, leaving her to be plucked up last like some afterthought. four years it took him to return for her. four years too late. things had changed . . . wendy had changed.

" fine then, don't go away. stand there and enjoy your view of the back of my head. i wish to be alone, so, as long as you stay quiet and out of sight, i can at least pretend i am. " she did not dare look at him out of fear that her fickle heart would fail her. it was a terrible feeling, to love someone as much as you hated them. it was not some pure love, either. it was all-consuming, the kind that filled her up til she could feel nothing else. but, like the hate, it was terribly raw. the two waged a war inside wendy's heart that she was sure would destroy her, tearing her into little bits until there was nothing left of the darling girl.

" and if you ever touch me like that again, know that i'll cut you up good. be it with my nails or your knife. it was a mean thing to do. " he'd frightened and confused her that night, and never once apologized or explained for it. in fact, it was as if it hadn't happened at all. the worst part was the memories, things she'd long forgotten, teasing her mind with hints here and there. they'd give a taste and then, as quickly as they'd come, those inklings of moments from days past would recede back into the fog.

rocking back and forth atop the dewy grass, wendy wrapped the cecco's coat tight around herself like some shield — not to guard her against peter's stare but to conceal the uncontrollable mix of emotions rippling off of her. i am going to die here, she thought. the truth rattled in her skull, shook through her bones, slithered its way into her core being. a haunting feeling that'd gnawed at her since stepping foot back on neverland, warning her despite all the wonderment before her eyes, finally made itself clear : something was going to kill her, whether it be her uncontrollable heart, the whims of peter, or some other wickedness upon the island.

something was going to kill her. unless she killed it first.

[n0chanxes]

Shared sentiments flickered in his gaze, simmering and solemn as his lips found a way into an identical sort of smile. His gaze drifted off, to the side again, smile growing wider and..just a touch heavier in the process.

".....It was kill or be killed.." nd if the soft blink was any sign, he hadn't really worked out whether or not to speak or leave until his lips answered that question for him. "I was the runt of my litter. Not that it mattered." Both hands lifted slowly, gaze drifting down to them as his head tilted to the side. "Back then, at the start of it, we were little more than livestock. You fought, bled, killed or you didn't eat. I was the runt of my litter.. But that didn't matter much either." A scoff fell from his lips, eyes scanning over his hands as though imagining the rivers of blood that ran over his skin.

"You don't get named Little Knife for nothing, you know? And then things got... stranger, softer, more twisted when he started trying to create a little spawn-- Though so many of them died too. We were.. one of the first packs.. Bohoja... Guangsha and me. And that was because we were some of the best killers, there were, some of the few that were still standing after being sicked on soul after soul after soul... And then things got.. stranger this time. Not just softer."

Brows knit a little, eyes searching for answers that'd long since been soaked in blood stained memories. "Because we... were closer. Better at killing before of it too but.. Maybe we were too good.. Or maybe the fallen angel was bored and wanted to play God all over again.. for old times sake." It was impossible then, to keep his lips from curling into a low, rumble of a snarl as he looked down to his palms, prsistine and eternally stained.. And he was silent for a while.

".....If feels worse than it looks..Maybe cus it was the first time we coudl feel anything aside from basic, animal-type of things. It felt like the hottest fire, and the most dull knives and the strongest hammers all at once, shattering bones, ripping skin. All from the inside out, and all mixed in with confusion in every possible way. The only pain we'd known was punishment for.. something. So had we failed so badly that this had to be done?.. Those were the first words I remember thinking...and the first thought that started to break me.."

"It was... messier back then too took hours, toeing the line between alive of bleeding out for so long. I didn't have many words.. But I knew the word End. And I kept begging for it in my mind, because my lips were too busy screaming, I think.." His head tilted a little slower this time, gaze lower, and darker still.

"I woke up... sometime later, after shock and bloodloss took me under. I woke up in an empty, windowless cell, and I woke up screaming. Pain. Confusion. Loneliness.. and a little hint of hatred, the newest one.. It all bubbled up as I curled up on the floor. This weird, dull nails dug into my skin more than any weapon ever has, I think....And most of it was from those first few nights.."

Those very same hands slowly bulled into fists, if only to stop them from shaking like they were so close to. A moment passed before they opened again, a bitterness in his smile. "And then I stopped. Because I had to be better. Had to be strong... and all for him. I had to emerge okay enough to still be good at.. whatever my creator wanted me to be..." And there was a small glow of light, smile wide and sickened as his double bladed weapon appeared in his hands.

The blades dropped in his palm, unkindled, heavy, and familiar. "He said so many things. He said theses were to help keep us safe." A scoff followed, carried on a shaking head. "Another little lie. He never cared about keeping us safe. You don't protect weapons. These were never about keeping us from dying, making it harder to kill us. They were just to make sure his weapons could kill faster. To kill more. No matter the cost."

Ash had always... questioned the stories. He'd heard about Kal, about Kal's friends, about what they'd done to those still residing in hell, and what had been done to them in return. Closer, Ash could see that scar so clearly, and his heart ached for the innocence, the hope, that would've been torn from his body the moment that scar happened. That, and many others. He didn't need to be there on that battlefield to know - he'd seen it happen to too many others to not recognise the pattern.

And that hope... Because that was the best word for it, wasn't it? What he could see in Kal's eyes right now? It was heartbreaking. Because all the hope in the world wasn't helping any of them now. It hadn't helped Kal back then, it wasn't helping the fallen, it wasn't helping the pup that had gone missing, it hadn't helped Squirt, or Koong, or Sujib.

"I don't hate him," Ash said, surprising himself just as much as it might surprise Kal. But... in truth, hate was too simple for what he felt about that man. That so called King. Far, far too simple. It was complex, complicated. "I pity him."

That about covered it. And yet, he... needed to explain more, didn't he? It was only fair, and maybe he needed the chance to air out his thoughts, without prying ears around. Well, other than Kal's, but Ash didn't fear much these days. If Kal wanted him dead, he would be. If Lucifer wanted him dead, he would be. The punishments from the King would keep coming whether he spoke poorly of him or not, to the point he was quickly becoming the King's personal pin cushion.

"He is so lost to a battle he doesn't need to fight. So intent on protecting his son from enemies that he has only created himself. So deep in distrust for any and everyone around him, that those that might care for him and his cause, who would follow him willingly and blindly into anything, are turning their backs. I pity him, and I... despise him. Because I have seen hounds come back beaten and bloody, pups I knew from birth, crawling back in pieces. I've seen... the strongest beings, reduced to fear and hurt because he disposed of a hound that they all cared so much for, and no one can prove it. My... past, what he's done to me, doesn't even come into any of that. You, though. Your past, your life... I could never understand why anyone could call you a traitor, when he never gave you a reason to do anything but turn your back."

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I feel like pockets went through a very deep depressed period

More depressed than normal

Like a really dark point in life where you can’t find a reason to stay

Bruce made his way through the labyrinth of hallways and dodging nurses and equipment. When you'd left the manor the night before after a tense phone call he hadn't heard, he'd assumed it was just routine nonsense with whatever band your mom was in.

But. Three days later, after the school had called him to report you hadn't been coming, Bruce felt his heart squeeze uncomfortably. Jason was gone. For almost a year. And you still couldn't- being at the manor was hard. You couldn't even look at Tim dressed as Robin. It wasn't until he scoured scanners and reports that he had any idea where you could be.

He stopped at the door. You were curled around yourself, arms around your knees. To protect yourself maybe? Or to try and stop shivering. The room was freezing and you'd left without a jacket. You were cold, tired, and hungry but- alive. And your mother was laying in the bed. Wired for space with a tube down her throat. "Y/N-"

"Overdose," you explain, voice flat. "I didn't get there in time."

"It's not-"

"If she wakes up at all, she won't be the same."

Bruce felt sick, his stomach twisting when your teeth chattered and you tightened your grip on yourself. He knows you're 16 but in his mind's eye, you're so small. Beaming up at him on Christmas morning with a new book hugged to your chest. He'd wanted to protect that little girl. The same way he wanted to protect Jason. And he'd failed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, wincing at how trite it sounded.

"Me too," you murmur, "She was doing really good this time."

__________

"You good, Pockets?" Dick asked. You look a little glazed. Like you'd just woken up. Which was weird because you'd looked the same way at breakfast.

"Fine," you mumble, picking listlessly at your lunch.

"Would you like something else to eat?" Alfred asked, frowning. A fussy eater you were not. It had never been hard to get either you or Jason to eat. But you'd hardly eaten anything- not more than a few bites since Bruce had persuaded you to stay there while he sorted out getting you emancipated.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, "I'm just not hungry. I think I should go finish my make up assignments-"

Alfred nodded, frown deepening. If you were on something, he wasn't sure he could blame you. But. He'd have to send someone to snoop for him. He suspected something over the counter that made you sleep. He watched you go and glanced at Dick who evidently had the same suspicions.

____________

"How many did your take?" Dick asked.

"Today?"

Sure-"

"Six," you answer, pulling your cardigan closer with a shiver.

"At once?"

"No. Three at a time."

Dick nodded, taking the box and tucking it into his pocket, "You're gonna-"

"Apparently 9 wasn't enough to kill me. It just gave me nightmares and I slept for like 20 hours."

He nodded slowly, tucking Scruffy into your arms, "Do you want to die?"

"Sometimes. But I wouldn't use Allergy pills for that. Not when I know how to get anything else that'd do it better-"

"What about today," Dick asked, trying to stay calm.

"No."

"Then why-"

"Nothing hurts if I'm asleep," you murmur.

And All Dick can do is pull you against his side and squeeze. He's not sure what to say. But. As if it wasn't bad enough Jason was dead, he's watched from a distance as you gave up a little more every day. As soon as you were asleep again, he'd tell Alfred. For now though, he just wanted to remind you you weren't alone.

[anystalker707]

Pleasantly Surprising

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Fluff / Enemies to lovers Summary: (Y/n) meets a nice group of guys in a concert. Warning: Blood, but no violence or wounds description.

Requested on Wattpad

a/n: This one if for you blood kink bastards </3

(Y/p) = Your pronouns

Feeling the cold night air filling my lungs with a faint smell of grass is much better than the smoky and sweaty, heavy air present among the public that gets worse near the mosh pit. I lean back against the brick wall, feeling the cold surface through the thick jeans of my jacket, digging into my shoulder blades as I try to control my breathing, quietly watching the band leaving the stage to give place to another.

My throat feels dry, aching the slightest after I swallow around the sharp and cold breaths, so I look around for a stand to buy at least a soda, ankling over to the nearest one. The line isn't actually that long – thank hell –, but that doesn't prevent a random bastard from trying to cut in line.

"Hey, what in the fuck you think you're doing?" I raise an eyebrow, pulling them back by their collar and they just look at me with this sulky face, bottom lip sticking out and lip ring glowing lightly under the reduced lighting. "No cutting in!"

"Says who?" they retort bitterly. "What you gonna do about it?"

"Aw, bold, aren't we?" I raise an eyebrow, glancing down and... the motherfucker is wearing school clothes, lacking the tie and shirt untucked. Private school. "What are you? Not like the other kids? The line isn't even that long, stupid."

"Fuck off," they sigh, shrugging out of my grip and harshly fixing their clothes.

"Frank– Fuck, Frank, the hell, can't we leave you alone for a single second?" A random voice suddenly interrupts our interaction before a tall person approaches, a motherly and worried air lacing their gaze. They look from me to Frank before exhaling, raising an eyebrow, at which Frank shrugs. "I'm sorry for whatever Frank did, he–"

"Fuck, no, Ray!" Frank cuts them off, "you're not playing the good guy here! I was just trying to–"

"Trying to cut in the line, yeah, very nice of you, isn't it?" I roll my eyes, twisting my mouth. At least he isn't lying, but is he stupid or something? Why would he try to convince us what he was trying to do was alright?

It looks like Frank is going to argue for a second, but ends up just groaning through gritted teeth and looking away with a sigh and tense shoulders.

Ray doesn't look any amused, only observing Frank like who looks at a puzzle after having tried to solve it for weeks without success. They shake their head, turning to me instead. "I'm Ray, he/him, nice to meet you. Sorry for Frank, what he did is... unfortunately usual."

I observe him looking at him from head to toes. School uniform just like Frank's, tucked shirt, loose tie. "Hi. I'm (y/n), (y/p). And don't worry, I would've done the same," I breathe, looking away from the two to hand the person behind the counter the money after pointing to the drink I want.

"What?" Frank gasps. "You would've done the same and still acted all like that towards me?"

I roll my eyes, sighing. "Me doing it doesn't mean I like being affected by it." I grab the change, shoving it in my pocket then step aside for Frank and Ray, cracking the can open.

"Y'know–" Frank crosses his arms over his chest, throwing his nose in the air, "–my momma says that you should treat the others as you want to be–"

"Aw, honey, so you'd like me cutting in the line right in front of you? Shamelessly?" I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to hold back a grin when his face gets bright red, hands balling into fists. Not gonna lie, it's kinda cute how he twists his mouth. Frank is about to curse when Ray is shoving a couple of cans into his hands – a sigh leaves his lips instead. "Two for each?" I question and sip on my drink.

Frank smirks, looking at me with humor. "Yeah, wanna watch me drink them at once?"

Ray rolls his eyes at Frank, shoving him out of the way after noticing there were people behind them. "We're actually with two other friends. Are you alone here? Do you wanna come along?" He smiles, ignoring Frank's complaints, so I opt for doing the same.

"I guess that'd be nice," I hum, shrugging. Otherwise, I'd be going home right now and Ray actually seems nice... I mean, Frank does too, but I'm not feeding his ego.

The other two stand against a brick wall when we find them, both quietly chatting to each other until seeing us approaching. The first one doesn't exactly react, more interested in the can Ray hands him, but the second, greasy punk, hums questioningly, straightening their posture as taking a good look at me almost like I did to Frank earlier. "And who are you?"

"(Y/n), (y/p)," I mutter, looking at them from over the rim of the can, taking a sip of my drink.

"Found lying in the trash when I approached," Frank adds, but doesn't seem so confident after I playfully shove him aside.

"Gerard, he/they," Gerard replies, eyes never averting away from mine. What is he, kind of a gang leader? Got a hell of an ego, though a bit differently from Frank – I'm noticing a pattern here, huh. "Mikey, he/him," he continues, nodding to the other guy.

I throw my empty can in a trashcan before leaning in towards Gerard. He tries to escape the touch, but he's against a wall, there's nowhere to go. How cute. "Belleville High," I say, finally able to make out what the small black letters embroidered on the chest area says, and step away, allowing Gerard to breathe. "Isn't it that private school? Catholic one? Wow, who'd know I'd find BH students here!"

"Stereotyping, are we?" Frank raises an eyebrow. It's impossible holding back a smile at him.

"No, never," I chuckle. "It's just a... rare occurrence. You came here right after school?"

"Not really." Ray shakes his head. "Just didn't have the opportunity to change. Good thing it's Friday, tho," he chuckles humorlessly and I nod in a silent agreement.

"And where do you study?" Frank takes a better look at my face. "If you study, that is."

I scoff, but don't reply just yet. Mikey is the most tidied up out of the four whereas Gerard has his tie loose around his neck, shirt untucked, blazer all wrinkled. "Of course I study, dumbass!" I glare. "But I'm in the public school near the park. But I've seen you before." I nod towards Gerard. "Just don't know where."

Gerard's eyes narrow. "Are you sure?"

"It's not always that I see a greasy vampire looking around, so yeah."

A silence hovers between us for a moment, both of us staring at each other until he feigns unamusement, looking away – I smile with a stupid pride swelling in my chest.

The night ends with us exchanging numbers after a solid hour of joking around and throwing sarcastic insults at each other. Teasing Gerard was particularly fun because he often ran away from the whole joking or at least tried to and even Mikey laughed when it failed, though sometimes succeeding when Frank finally managed to get the spotlight on himself. Ray is sweet, despite being the perfect example for 'looks like a cinnamon roll, but can actually kill you.'

Gerard got my attention, to be honest.

Saturday and Sunday go by quite slowly and thankfully texting the guys every five minutes doesn't make it as depressing as usual. Texting Gerard isn't the same as texting Frank – who replies a text to each word I send him –, however. Gerard often replies with a word or a vague comment and guess what? I'm only more interested.

No Gerard manages to slip between my thoughts during school, but it ends up happening as soon as I step past the gates. Belleville high, isn't it? Shitty elite, but they don't really seem to be like that... let's see if that wasn't just great acting. That's not even a mile away from here. I look down the street, the direction opposite to where I would usually go. It won't hurt to say hi, right? Not to mention I've got nothing to do for the rest of the day.

Belleville High's classes finish about ten minutes later compared to my school's, so I don't bother walking too fast, but not slow enough to let my palms get clammy or overthink anything. Amazing how I can feel like this about people I only met once. Okay, whatever, take a deep breath because I guess I know these curls.

"Look at who we have here!" I throw an arm around Frank's neck, interrupting whatever they were doing and attracting wide eyes towards me. Turns out I found them earlier than expected, hanging out in the park.

"Damn, are you everywhere?" Frank raises an eyebrow at me and presses his lips together, though never stepping away. Blood?

"Who knows?" I joke. "Also..." I trail off, only now taking a good look at them. "Man, what in the hell fucking happened to you guys? Seriously–" I yank a paper off Frank's back, sighing at the 'kick me' written across it and hand it to him, shaking my head. What fucking idiot did this? How the hell did they even get into a fight? It doesn't seem like they were fighting each other.

Frank groans poorly, wadding the paper into a ball and tossing it at the nearby trash can. He's got a few scratches above his eyebrows and blood trailing down the corner of his lips. Mikey and Gerard are probably in the best state out of the four – Gerard got blood trailing down his nose and same for Mikey, though on opposite sides and Mikey's cheek is smeared with blood. I can't say the same about Ray... I don't know how he's not even wincing with all that blood trailing down his face.

"Well," Mikey breathes, bringing a hand to the back of his head, "you can say that–"

"Why do you even want to know?" Gerard steps forward, hands clenched into fists by his sides. "You got nothing to do with it, okay?"

"Aw," I breathe a chuckle. So he wants things to happen like this? But does he have the nerve to keep it? I may not have known him for long, but the attitude is clearly foreign, unmatching. "And what, baby? You lost, didn't you? And you're a fucking sore loser!"

"I just don't see why you should know." He twists his mouth, looking at me uninterested, but it doesn't take long until he's looking at me with these eyes, irises barely seen, eyebrows scrunched close. "And don't talk to me like that! Maybe it would even be better if you fucked off and left us alone, don't you think?"

Man, he talks a lot. Too much. No wonder why he's in such a state. Maybe he'll shut up if I...

"Holy..." Frank trails off with a quiet chuckle and I'm certain Gerard would have glared at him if he wasn't processing what just happened.

Meanwhile, Mikey and Ray stare at me with wide eyes – as wide as Gerard's, but they're not as petrified as Gerard is, for sure, only with hesitant, unsure grins on their faces. I suppress the urge to laugh at Gerard, instead more focused on rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to get rid of the salty and metallic taste.

A quiet sound comes from Gerard as he finally moves, maybe a groan, not sounding really comfortable. He brings a hand up to his lips. The perfect trail of almost dry blood is now smudged, following the direction I licket it to, having the blood smeared across his chin and bottom lip. "Ugh, ugh, ugh," he groans, frantically cleaning his lips and chin with the back of his wrist, against the sleeve of his blazer. "What the fuck? You're gross!"

I roll my eyes with a sigh. "Man, I wonder why I thought being an asshole could be solved."

"Eh, trust me, he isn't normally like this," Ray says with a shrug, looking at Gerard like if he was a chained angry dog even after receiving a glare.

No one gives Gerard's tantrum much attention as we soon sit down on the grass and change the subject before we can notice. Surprisingly, Gerard sits down next to me. Even more surprisingly, he leans closer at some point and whispers, "well, look at who's the vampire now."

Saying Gerard's words got stuck in my head would be an understatement. Maybe it's a nightmare, maybe it's not, but it does get me randomly blushing or stupidly grinning during random times of the day. Nonetheless, school the following day does help a bit with cleaning my head a little.

After a few hours of staring at blackboards, the setting changes to staring at records hanging on the walls and it's honestly better. Incoherent, loud chatter being changed to music of my choice is a lot better, even if I need to talk to a customer now and then.

"This is the place I told you about. I've only been here once, but it seems good," a voice says from the outside, but I don't look up from my homework.

"Never been here," someone else says. A pause follows then their footsteps sound clearer and I sigh, shoving my things on the space under the counter.

"Hello, good afternoon," I say automatically, holding back a groan at how my eraser insists on falling and grabbing it fast. "How can I help you?" I finally look up just to freeze. And the four have the same reaction, to be honest. "I knew I had seen you before," I say to Gerard.

"What a small world!" Frank approaches, immediately narrowing his eyes and throwing his nose in the air as looking over to me. "So you're not a rebel who only wanders around and goes to free concerts during the night and stalks us?" He raises an eyebrow, looking around the place, inspecting the shelves full of records and CDs.

"So you only got one set of clothes?" I mock, staring at his school uniform.

Frank exhales, shoulders dropping. "We just got here from school." He motions vaguely to his messenger bag and I nod, humming, not like it matters a lot.

While we talk, Ray and Mikey wander around, talking quietly to each other and sometimes taking a record in hand, but Gerard... he stands there awkwardly, observing Frank and I with a lost gaze. What is he doing? Trying to act all cool like last time? Or doesn't know how to react?

"Hello," I greet, which sounds more like a question. Frank turns around to look at him, apparently understanding Gerard as much as I do.

Gerard presses his lips together and steps forward, also leaning against the counter. "You didn't mention you work here."

"Didn't have a reason to." I shrug.

The corner of his lips twitch and he's holding eye contact until sighing. "Okay, whatever. Got anything new on Misfits or Pumpkins? Also, Bauhaus." He glances at me, black strands falling over his eyes for a moment before he's pulling them away. Cute.

"Of course." I grin, moving to the cabinets behind the counter.

Frank eventually darts off as I show Gerard the records and cassettes like he wanted. I glance around to make sure Frank is paying attention to whatever Mikey is telling him and Ray before I turn to Gerard again, grinning lightly. "Y'know," I mutter, leaning forward with my elbows over the counter. "I've got passes for a bar concert tonight. Wanna come?"

"What do you mean by passes?" His eyes never avert from the records – he runs his fingers over them delicately, examining each of them closely.

"Each ticket was about ten dollars and they're sold out, but the store is sponsoring the event and I got free passes." I smirk, watching his eyebrows raise lightly. "I usually can get one person in with me. What do you say?"

He pauses. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one I know the least." And also the one I'm interested in. "Pick you up at seven, what do you say?"

He sighs. "I'll text you my address."

.

"Wow, you're..." Gerard stares at me with a blank face, standing there and letting all the cold air get in. He rushes into the car, closing the door carefully.

"I'm...?" I raise an eyebrow, sinking my foot down on the gas, pulling away from the sidewalk.

"I don't know." Silence. "Not what I expected."

"Glad to know." I grin. "You're also not what I expected. You're never what I expect, to be honest..." He wasn't all open in the beginning, but also wasn't the asshole he was in the park – in his defence, at least, he had just gotten out of a fight, nerves still on edge. At the store, however, he seemed more like himself. "Also, you're looking good."

Gerard's eyes are surrounded by eyeliner and a red eyeshadow – definitely nothing I would see him in, but also nothing I'm disappointed about –, bringing out his paleness. And for the first time, he isn't wearing that stupid school uniform and fancy shoes are replaced by platform boots. A leather jacket clutches his shoulders, decorated with a few studs and patches, and covering a nice Slipknot shirt. And there are his jeans, fucking tight and I swear I hadn't noticed this guy got such a nice ass and, fucking hell, it's difficult not staring at his thighs flat on the seat, with a chain falling over one of them.

"Thank you," he mutters quietly. Even in the reduced lighting, I can see his cheeks gaining a red tone before he looks away.

The place is crowded, but not overly – which is why the tickets were even sold, at first place – and it's fun seeing Gerard's chin drop when he looks at the sign of the place. To simplify, everyone is either always wanting to play in this bar or come watch someone play and the tickets are not only always sold in small quantities, but also expensive.

"Let's go," I chuckle after having spent a good moment observing Gerard.

We jog across the street, towards the entrance, just straight away skipping the whole line. The guy in charge of letting people in looks at us indifferently, in a silent question, muscles clear under the tight staff shirt. Even if there's no visible difference in his expression, he does relax a bit after I show him my pass and steps aside to let us in.

"Wow," Gerard mutters, almost inaudibly.

"You like it?" I ask as we walk through the people. No answer comes. He stayed back, of course; the boy is kinda shy and hesitant, after all. "C'mon!" I take a hold of his hand to pull him with me until we're in the bar area, which's much calmer. He stands there for a moment, looking around, until I point at one of the stools, sitting down on the one beside it.

Gerard shifts on his seat, hands resting on his lap and clenched into fists. He observes everything with wide eyes and I can't bring myself to avert my attention away from him. He's beautiful.

When the band starts playing, however, the atmosphere starts changing. It's a classic punk band – the kind of people you'd see around in skate lanes, spraying anarchist messages on a building's wall or behind a McDonald's counter – and the music is good, nonetheless, raw and emotional and demanding. Great to dance to.

Gerard is shy, as already stated – what makes me wonder how he even agreed on coming –, taking a good time to actually stand up from the stool and join me.

His hand is warm under mine, maybe not as warm as his cheeks seem to be. I had taken it in mine to pull him up from the stool, only, but he didn't let go and... oh well. Aren't you interesting, Gerard? I grin to myself and take his other hand to pull him to dance with me; that if you consider moving around to the rhythm of the song some kind of dance, but Gerard doesn't complain.

I'm not sure how much time goes by – I only question myself about that once the band is saying good night, breathing audibly as they get off the stage. The live music is replaced by a momentary incoherent chatter when loud music fills the place again, this time coming from the speakers. Gerard and I are out of breath when averting our attention from the stage to each other. My arms feel a bit sore after all of that, almost the opposite to my numb legs.

"Wanna grab a drink?" I nod towards the bar. "We can go to the alley to take a breath, then."

"Sounds good."

The non-alcoholic drinks are as cold as the night air, suddenly making it even more obvious how much we jumped around to the band's sound. We lean against the wall opposite to the side of the bar and I look at Gerard, watching his chest rise and fall fast, only coming to a longer pause when he brings the glass to his lips. He observes something above us, maybe the sky, but I don't care.

"Your nose is bleeding again." I suddenly note, seeing the dark red trail now almost reaching his upper lip. Not a surprise. He hurt his nose not much over a day ago and all the jumping must have opened the wound.

"Fuck." Gerard brings a hand to his nose and sighs when seeing the red stain on his fingers; I chuckle softly, halfheartedly. "What? You wanna lick it again?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at me. He apparently opts for not ruining the sleeve of his leather jacket, regarding it more than his school blazer.

I roll my eyes, smiling helplessly. "Well, if you'd like me to," I decide to tease back, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Ah, you wouldn't dare!" He chuckles, blood staining his lips according to how he talks.

"You think so, honey?" I raise an eyebrow. A few stutters come from him, but I just grab his glass and set it aside with mine, on the ground, before stepping towards him. "Tell me, why are you always so... bold around me? It's clear it's not part of you, as Ray even said." I suppress a humorous chuckle at how he frantically backs away against the wall, having nowhere to go. This brings me memories. "Maybe it has a specific reason?"

Gerard's eyes are wide, lips twitching, though no word ever comes through and his expression changes instantly once I get a hold of his hips and pin him to the wall. Feeling the heat coming from his cheeks is almost possible and all that resistance is gone, tendering into compliance and shyness.

"Look at you, Gerard," I mutter, rubbing circles into his hips as leaning in. "How surprising can you be?"

Having Gerard only letting out a quiet whine in response as his hands rest hesitantly over my shoulders make my heart flutter in my chest. I finally lean in, pressing my lips to Gerard's; he returns the kiss right away, lips sliding against mine easily.

And there it is; the rich metallic taste of Gerard's blood. I run my tongue over his bottom lip, snatching a hum from him, which turns into a whining-gasp once my teeth sink into it slightly.

His hands tighten around my shoulders, I grip harder onto his hips in consequence and he's sent relaxing back against the wall. He never had control over the kiss, but he's suddenly just giving up on the power at once with a quiet sound, slowly wrapping his arm around my neck to pull me closer and I gladly deepen the kiss.

"Wow, love," I breathe as soon as we part the kiss, lungs screaming for air. Gerard doesn't reply verbally, with his lips brushing lightly against mine and, by now, the blood is starting to get sticky, on its way to drying, also on my lips.

"I hope we can go out more often," he mutters shyly, not long before burying his face in the crook of my neck.

[lovinkiri]

She's So Toxic

Mina Ashido x Reader

Description: Mina is a player. She's toxic. So toxic that she takes phone calls from other girls right in front of you. Doesn't mean she won't keep you entertained.

Author's Thoughts: Okay so the thought of Toxic!Mina is killing meeee

Warning: Fingering, Teasing, Oral (Receiving), Marking, Mommy Kink, etc.

Mina was fun to be around, always able to make you laugh in your worst mood. Also incredibly silly and sweet. And she was really something to look at, always wearing the shortest shorts and the tightest crop tops around your college campus.

She had the body, so she decided to flaunt it. And who were you to judge her for that?

She told you from the start she wasn't going to settle down though. So maybe it's your fault. There's just always been something irresistible about Mina.

But boy did she get on your nerves sometimes.

You two just had sex, probably some of the best sex you'd ever had, and here she was. Laying next to you, texting her hoes. She didn't even try hiding her screen, she just didn't care.

You crossed your arms and looked away, obviously upset.

Mina noticed and after sending her text, looked at you. "C'mon, Baby girl.. Don't be like that." She rolled on top of you.

Refusing to look her in the eyes, you shook your head. "Don't let me stop you from texting other girls in my bed, Mina."

Sighing, she placed a small kiss to your cheek. "Baby, its nothing personal, you know that. I can't just leave 'em on read. That'd be.. rude." She continued to press light feathery kisses down your neck and breast.

"No, texting them in front of me is rude.." Your eyes slid shut, sighing softly as her massaging hands coaxed your thighs apart.

Moving between your legs, she gently kissed you cunt, teasing you with a small dip of her tongue.

Just as you were forgetting, her phone rang. You read the name of another woman from the screen in her hand and sighed deeply. "And now they ruined the vibe.."

She laughed and surprised you with the nerve to answer the call in front of you. "Hey, Mei. What's up?"

You scoffed. "Un-fucking-believable.."

Giving you a look, she gently rubbed your thigh again. "Oh, same. Yeah. Mhm. Mhm. Right."

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Mina was barely listening to Mei. You couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the woman on the other line.

That feeling washed away quickly though, as a soft gasp fell from your lips.

Mina grinned and rubbed her thumb in lazy circles around your clit. "Uh-huh. Yeah, same. Essays suck."

You licked your lips and looked up at her, only to see her staring straight back into your eyes.

Your eyes shut once more and your head fell back against your plush pillow. Your beautiful lips remained open in an 'O' as you let out silent whines.

Leaning down, she dipped her warm tongue between your folds, licking upwards over your sensitive clit.

You moaned quietly and tangled your fingers into her soft hair. Her pink curls swallowed your fingers and she gave a hum at the feeling.

"Please, Mina, please.." You whispered softly, grinding into her rough tongue.

She slowly sat up, causing you to whine as your hand slipped from her hair. Mina rubbed your clit against her fingers a bit before smacking your pussy.

Arching your back, you yelped loudly. "F-Fuck.." You whimpered weakly. "Mommy, I'm sorry, I meant Mommy.."

"Mm.. Huh? Oh, that? I'm just watching something. Yeah, pretty interesting." Her smile was sweet, but you could see the smirk behind it.

"Please help me, Mommy.." You hushed your tone again, squirming nervously as she rubbed your pussy once more.

Deciding to be merciful, her fingers collected slick between your folds before slowing dipping into your entrance. Her thumb pushed back and forth against your clit with every movement of her hand.

"G-God, Mommy.. Yess..!" You moved your hips against her fingers, panting softly. You could feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, wanting more and more.

She gave you a look as Mei questioned the noise. "Huh? Oh that? No that was.."

"You know, your work really- hah, isn't your best when you aren't- Ahh! P-Paying full a-attention.. T-Too bad, she must b-ee wayyy more impor-tant, huh..?"

Mina sighed at your stubborn attitude. If she cared at all, she didn't anymore.

She leaned down and shamelessly sucked and slurped at your clit, moaning softly at the taste.

You squealed and again brought your fingers into her curls. "S-Shit, shit..!"

"I was trying to be polite, but my little attention whore is being really greedy.." She whispered against your cunt.

You could hear Mei telling her off but you didn't care enough to focus on what she was saying. The only thing that mattered at the moment was Mina, and her attention was back on you.

"God, 'm sorry Mommy.." You slurred, feeling your toes curls as her fingers did too.

Lapping at your clit, she muttered between licks. "Fuck, pussy might just make me settle down baby.."

You knew it was a lie. She wasn't gonna settle down. And Mei would probably forgive her.

Oh well.

You cried out and allowed yourself to cum against her, giving no warning.

She moaned at thectaste if you, slowing to a stop. It was silent, so Mei must have hung up.

Both you and Mina panted before going into a small giggle fit.

Then came another call, except on your phone. Checking it with a sigh, your eyes lit up. "Ah, it's Todoroki- Hey!"

Mina took the phone and declined the call, tossing your phone to the bottom of the bed.

"Mina, Todoroki and I are supposed to study tomorrow. He was probably calling just to check and see if we're still on."

She called over your sensitive form, diving into your neck. You gasped loudly as she sucked and bit the flesh.

When she pulled away, you glared. "O-Oh I just know you left a mark.. I gotta call him back."

She put her entire weight on you. "Ah ah ah. You're busy."

Leave it to Mina to get jealous after answering a booty call in front of you.

[wellfell]

 a trail of crimson follows after akina mori . a series of unfortunate events , it's easier to believe in the rumors than actually ask her and no one is obliged to ask her either , are they ? someone like akina mori – who doesn't answer , doesn't engage and doesn't disappear into the crowd . she's an ice that never melts inside the water , and that's her whole story really . death lingers by her doorstep , whispers behind her walls and clings to her pretty red skirt . reaching way up above her knees , a fading bruise on her right one resulted from hitting it in the corner of her bed yesterday . and pale boots , one look at her and nobody would believe the lies everyone tells about three graves in her homeland . her sister , her boyfriend , her teacher . she doesn't know what fumiko is doing but can guess that her curse has probably gotten her too .

 torn her away from people , made her into a loner that wandered around in the heart of the night and chewed strawberry gum . her father used to warn her about the freaks and bad guys at this hour of the night , used to teach her some ways to break free of a drunk guy's grasp , to avoid any man dozed off on the sidewalk but he doesn't know that his darling daughter is who people should be afraid of . a drunk man on the sidewalk is something else , but a woman who has killed and didn't feel remorse , a woman who defeated an angry ghost , is something entirely different . tony could play all he wanted— one look at him and she knew that he dreamed of a quieter life . one filled with wisteria orchids and blossoms , softer endings and brighter beginnings . he can play all he wants because he'll never be as eager as akina is about the blood that spills . ❛ you don't look that alive either . ❜  she muses quietly . taking in the details of his struggle . the open skin , the reds , he looks exhausted . the dark woman kneels beside him , lets her pale knees touch the dirt as she takes a gentle hold of his face to get a better look . bruises and scratches , nothing that won't stop bleeding . ❛ . . my last boyfriend used to tell me he likes me because i bring darkness into his life . that i'm real . ❜  ‘ you're not sunlight , akina , you're an endless well . ‘ she takes a firm hold of his arm to raise it , to wrap it around her neck and pulls him to his feet . she also ignored his weak warning to leave ; who else should be here ? someone who will panic and make things worse ?

 ❛ he used to say i’m real . tsk . come on , you'd be bored if i was a girl who would run away from this state of you . ❜  a joke won't make things better but it'll help him understand she's not planning on leaving him here like this . the cops could find him , that'd be worse than his enemies coming for him perhaps . she drags him toward the sidewalk , gripping onto his side to help him stand straight while his arm curled limply around her neck . her heels click on the sidewalk with satisfying noises , she smelled like lavender and something sweet . lemon ? on her hands perhaps , the new brand of her moisturizer . ❛ though , i think you're not like me . . you want a quiet life . ❜  she keeps speaking to keep him occupied , force him to listen to her nonsense and try to stay awake . ❛ alright let's try this ; what's your favorite animal ? ❜

amidst   the   clearance   of   fog   —   by   dim   light   ,   melting   neon   of   a   buzzling   ,   pulsating   metropolis   —   all   -   swallowing   monster   of   a   merciless   entity   —   the   pull   of   death   weaves   itself   through   his   soul   like   a   red   thread   .   he   had   been   left   in   the   belief   of   such   threats   to   have   washed   away   —   carried   with   the   approaching   tide   and   buried   within   its   embrace   .   to   be   spoken   free   of   a   curse   ,   latched   onto   the   elder's   being   .   in   his   man   -   made   cage   ,   in   this   underground   built   by   all   that   is   rotten   ,   grotesque   .   within   a   now   venerable   soul   —   do   phantoms   and   ghosts   of   a   deeper   buried   secret   lie   awake   .   an   infernal   glimmer   —   not   forgotten   but   abandoned   .   breath   hitches   .    ice   cubes   melting   against   the   glacial   surface   cupped   by   calloused   ,   jewelled   digits   .    a   huff   ,   a   dragged   exhale   in   midst   of   a   silence    –    perhaps   to   be   deemed   painful   in   the   absence   of   spoken   words   .    an   expression   with   little   to   show   and   even   less   to   say    –    veiled   by   his   usual   composure   .    a   throne   is   only   as   comfortable   as   his   own   demons   allow   him   to   indulge   into    –    an   atonement   far   from   any   form   of   salvation   he   would   ultimately   be   blessed   with   .    mind   is   absent   ,   floating   within   another   realm   as   tony   violently   gets   shaken   out   of   his   stream   of   thoughts   –   a   strong   enough   force   bumping   into   his   side   ,   not   enough   to   make   the   male   lose   his   balance   and   barely   enough   to   transport   him   into   the   current   –   if   it   was   not   for   the   content   of   the   glass   ,   resulting   in   a   quiet   hiss   .   he   is   met   by   the   whip   of   rage   ,   neither   his   own   nor   summoned   —   fists   of   clothing   ,   as   he   is   dragged   outside   of   the   establishment   .   met   with   silence   ,   apathy   —   an   absent   -   minded   veil   to   blur   patience   gradually   ebbing   .   .   traces   of   satisfaction   ,   the   singular   taste   remaining   upon   lips   (   knowing   they   are   about   to   indulge   in   such   sweet   reunion   —   )   as   frame   is   shaken   briskly   .   jagged   ,   scarred   countenance   raises   —   and   with   it   ,   the   crown   of   a   man   who   wished   to   lay   this   beast   to   rest   . 

@wellfell finds tony after a fight . / for tony hehe – VIOLENT STARTERS ( accepting )

between  the  fingers  holding  his   burning  cigarette   ,  knuckles   freshly  bruised  ;  ugly  ,  bare  skin   .  he  can  taste  the  dried  blood  on  his mouth  ,  as  if   to  serve  as   a  reminder  of  his  presence   in  the  current   .   a  hiss  ,  disappointment   always  spoke  the  loudest  without   the   demand  for  any  sound  to  leave  his   lips   .  eventually   do   legs  give   in   to  the   exhaustion   –  and  he   lets  his  worn  body  rest  against  the  rusting  wall   ,  flat   on  his   back  .  his  shirt   ,   originally  of  an  ivory   colour   ,  freshly  soaked   by   an   injury   yet  to  be  examined   .  no   humming  between   his   ribs  ,  no   .  on  days  like  these  ,  the  yearning   proximity  of  peace   seems   so  close   ,   on  the   brink  where  dawn  meets   twilight  .   it   is   as   close  as  he  can   get  –   before   it   slips  his  fingers  once more .   which  doesn't  prevent   him   from  trying   each  time  anew   .

bloodied   visage   ,   soiled   by   an   aftermath   —   first   with   mere   bare   hands   —   before   own   ,   retired   and   polished   weapon   had   tore   the   night   apart   with   thunderous   shots   .   released   one   by   one   ,   in   heavy   precision   and   intent   .   smothered   —   the   morbid   option   of   leaving   own   gun   tucked   away   ,   of   letting   calloused   digits   dig   and   tear   into   flesh   before   a   soul   leaves   its   body   .   did   it   matter   ,   at   the   end   of   the   day   ?   strands   have   fallen   into   his   face   as   he   notices   —   yes   ,  ��this   long   shadow   of   a   silhouette   ,   spilling   itself   on   the   pavement   .   features   are   coloured   by   unreleased   tension   ,   heavy   frown   as   head   turns   half   -   way   —   his   gaze   glides   before   arrow   of   a   glance   musters   her   presence   .   inexpressive   —   a   muted   curtain   of   polished   steel   —   merely   its   intensity   ,   left   to   speak   .   exhaustion   leaves   a   man   to   keep   own   crown   raised   ,   "   you   .   bringing   death   where   you   go   .   look   ,   what   you   have   done   to   me   .   "   —   why   else   would   destiny   curse   him   with   such   curious   encounter   anew   ?   in   nocturne's   zenith   ?   in   seoul's   rotten   ,   secret   heart   ?   his   attempt   at   a   noiseless   ,   quiet   laugh   —   interrupted   by   a   strained   cough   .   he   swallows   ,   with   that   dry   mouth   of   his   ,   licking   over   own   lips   ,   "   shouldn't   be   here   .   "   ,   muttered   .   .   as   head   lowers   .   an   all   to   well   known   ending   of   a   night   .