#to when he gets scooped and has to cover wounds

[chloesimaginationthings]

How come game Michael has all those bandages? I’m curious!

I got asked this a few times! Honestly it’s just a character design choice

To me, it makes sense Michael would have small bandages here and there on his skin, just from all his working with animatronics and snooping around. So the bandages are there to reflect that

[seren1tyhaze]

Unconditional

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx

WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing

PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend

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“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.

“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.

You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.

Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”

“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”

Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.

Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.

“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”

“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.

“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.

A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.

“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.

Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.

The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.

“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.

“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.

You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.

That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.

“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.

You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.

“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”

“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.

You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.

“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.

“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.

“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.

“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.

“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.

Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.

“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.

“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.

“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.

“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.

“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.

You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.

“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.

You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.

You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.

You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.

He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.

“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.

When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.

“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.

“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.

“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.

He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.

[clandestineloki]

Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

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The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do��believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

[miffysrambles]

Hello! I love your headcannons! What are your headcannons for when S/O is gravely injured? Like, the S/O is fighting against some demons along with MK, Wukong and Macaque and they get very seriously injured, to the point of passing out. What would their reactions be?

Wukong, Macaque, and MK With a Gravely Injured S/O

(This one took a bit, sorry about that!)

Wukong:

Oh, he is livid.

He shouts at MK to take you somewhere safe, as far away from his location as the boy could go.

“Get them out of here kid, get them help! I’ll handle this!”

He needs to beat some sense into this bastard, right here and right now.

Uses almost every single one of his powers to strike the demon, soon enough scaring them off into never hurting you or even going near you again.

Grabs them by the collar as they fall to the ground, bearing his fangs as speaks through his teeth. 

“If I see you even stand close to that mortal ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you next time…”

Eventually travels back to you and MK on his cloud, finding the both of you in your apartment as the noodle boy patches you up.

He sends MK home, ensuring you’ll be ok.

“Don’t worry bud, they’ll be fine. Get some rest, ya earned it.”

He sits down next to you on the couch as he lays your head in his lap.

His fingers intertwine with your hair, his other hand caressing your face as you rest from the intensity of your wounds.

He stays like this for quite some time, maybe even hours as he does not dare to move a muscle.

His heart skips a beat as you shift awake, smiling up at him as you regain consciousness.

He smiles back at you, it might have been the fact you were still a bit tired but you swear you could see small tears in his eyes.

“Peaches, oh thank Gods! It’s ok! You’re ok, you’re safe…”

He wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and cover your gorgeous face in kisses but does not want to move you when you’re in pain.

Soon enough when you’re ready to move he does just that, laying you on his chest as he presses soft kisses all over your face.

He holds you close as if you were about to disappear any second, you’re guessing he really was scared today -which is super rare.-

“I love you, oh I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Macaque:

His first instinct is to get you the hell out of there. 

As soon as his six ears hear your breath falter, he pulls you through into the shadows and gets you both out of the fight.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit! You're going to be okay sweet cheeks, don’t close your eyes on me. Keep those gorgeous eyes open.”

He falls into his living room with you in his arms, frantically kissing your forehead as he sets you down on the couch. 

He’s scrambling through his dojo to find stuff to patch up your wounds, he doesn’t have much because, well, he’s immortal.

After patching you up, –which is sloppily done by his shaking fingers–, he leaves you alone to rest.

“Gods damnit!” He punches a hole through the wall of the dojo, taking his rage out on the crumbling drywall. 

He needs to direct his anger towards something else before the entire building falls.

And luckily for him, he has just the target.

Oh, the demon didn’t win like they thought they did, not even close.

As soon as Macaque sees they let their guard down, he emerges from the shadows to summon his smoke monster.

It grabs the demon within its giant grasp as it forces them into the gravel below, crushing them with its sheer force.

“So! Do you really think you got away with hurting that mortal? Big mistake on your part…”

After beating the demon to a pulp, he travels back to you through the shadows.

You open your eyes to see him land on the living room floor, his ears perking up from the sound of your breath hitching as he rushes to your side. 

You smile up at him through your pain, your bandages wrapped a little too tight.

“Macaque? I love you and appreciate it so much but you tied these a little too tight…”

He blinks in surprise as he reapplies the white strips on your wounds, smiling as he kisses your nose.

“Heh, sorry about that starshine. Glad you’re ok…”

MK:

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your bright bubbly boyfriend so angry.

In fact, he is beyond furious.

To the point, he turns into his monkey form and beats the demon into a pulp. 

Pigsy and Sandy were helping you stand as you stared at the sight in front of you, MK glowing a bright gold color as the two flew through the sky so fast you couldn’t keep your eyes up with them.

At one point, the demon tried to teleport away but MK was two steps ahead as he reached his arm out and grabbed them by the collar.

“Hey! Who– Said– I– Was– Done with you yet!”

He was throwing the demon around the mountains in between his words, finally, the demon was defeated as Mk ran up to you.

“(Name)! Oh, please be ok!” He wraps his arms around you, earning a gasp of pain from you.

“Careful kid, they’re hurt bad…” Pigsy put his hands up to warn your worried boyfriend.

“Right, right. Come on, let’s get them home.”

MK scooped you up in his arms as he carried you to your apartment, using the key that you gave him to set you down on the couch.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some bandages.”

He kissed your forehead as he left the room, coming back with white gauze and a waterproof marker.

You raised your eyebrow at the marker, earning a small smile from him as he slightly laughed.

“I was gonna draw on your bandages, add a little happy touch to the sadness!”

You laughed softly, nodding at the idea.

“Sounds fun, let's do it.”

He beamed as he applied the white strips, drawing various doodles on your bandages such as a doodle of the two of you kissing, one of the Monkey King (of course), and little hearts and stars everywhere.

You smiled as he held up his phone camera to you so you could see, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you babes, I look so colorful!’

His cheeks flushed red as he kissed your cheeks several times in return, “Of course, I think you look goood! I’m so glad you’re feeling better sweetie”

[stargazedwinchester]

Kiss of Life ♡ Dean

Summary: Dean, who you believe doesn't like you, needs your aid in healing his wounds.

Word count: 1,124

Warnings: Mentions of blood

My new upload schedule has changed! There will be a new post every Wednesday and Saturday 12:30 GMT.

Dean had told you to stay behind this hunt, back at the motel. He said he could handle this one with Sam by themselves. You agreed. It was a small hunt. After all, it concluded a meager pack of werewolves in Cincinnati. You had been holed up in this room for just over 12 hours when Dean comes rushing through the door with blood all over his hands.

“Hey- Oh my God!” you exclaim, throwing your book onto the covers and you scramble over to Dean. He stands there with a cross look on his face, wafting you away from him.

“I’m fine, just let me…” He says, turning around toward the kitchenette and turning the tap on. You force yourself to stand in front of him, to get a better look. You gently remove his hand from his face, and he lashes back. “Get out of my face!” He yells, you flinch and you take a few steps back.

Yours and Deans relationship has been a tricky one, multiple ups and downs, arguments over silly things, then making up a day later. You’re unsure on what you’d say your status is with him, as you can go from friends to strangers.

Sam has always tried to convince you he doesn’t hate you, but it’s hard to believe when he acts so irrational.

You watch him attempt to clean himself up, using a damp paper towel to try and get the dried blood off of his skin.

“Dean,” you say, almost a whisper, but he doesn’t listen.

“Dean-”

“Y/N, fucking move.” He growls. He goes to push you aside again, and you refuse to this time.

“No! Stop being a fucking asshole and let me help you! For Gods’ sake, Dean! You retorted; A part of him doesn’t know whether to be proud of you for sticking up for yourself or whether to be annoyed at you for not listening to him.

You take his arm and pull him toward you; you take a dishcloth and some warm water and gently rub at his hands and his wrists. He’s standing there watching you take such cultivated care of him, like it’s second nature. “Look up,” you instruct, placing a finger under his chin. He obeys, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. You examine his face and check for cuts and bruises. He has one clear cut across his cheekbone, which seems to be the verdict for the amount of blood all over him. It glides down from the height of his cheekbone, right down to the middle of his cheek. You let go of his chin and stand back.

“Anything on your body?” You ask, and he hesitates.

“Uh… I don—”

“Take your shirt off.” You snap. He slowly takes his shirt off, revealing his toned torso, shimmering from tiny beads of sweat from the hunt he’s just endured. You can’t help but admire him, but also trying to make it seem like you’re checking him for injuries.

He slowly turns around, allowing you to scan fast enough without being too thorough. “Alright, you look fine,” You catch his eye. Dean smirks cheekily. “Not like that.” You brush him off, although he can’t know you did mean it like that.

He throws his shirt back on, and you fumble around in your bag for bandages and ointment. Dean takes a seat at the table and waits for you.

He hasn’t said a peep toward you since you snapped back at him, assuming it’s because he’s scared to rile you up again. You pick out some gauze and medical tape, even though it’s not the best material to use. At least it would stop it from bleeding and getting infected. Taking the ointment and scooping a little onto the fabric, you spread it around, so it’s completely covered. You take a washcloth and wet it again. You place yourself down next to Dean, giving him a reassuring look.

“Can I?” You hold up the washcloth close to his face, and he nods. “Yeah.”

You dab the cloth against his face, but not on the wound. You gently touch his face with your fingertips and move him where you need him to be. “Why do you want to help me so bad?”

“Because I see a friend come into the motel with blood all over his hands and face, you think I’m going to just ignore it?” You question and he huffs. Taking the antiseptic wipes, you swipe at his wound, causing him to face away from you. “Stop being a baby,” you hush. He purses his lips. “C’mere…” you whisper, moving closer to his face. You place the gauze over his cheek, faintly pressing the ointment onto his skin. He hisses as you move his hand to hold it in place. Taking the medical tape, you tear it with your teeth and stick the gauze to his skin.

“How d’yknow to do all this?” Dean asks. His eyes are gazing at you softly, as if he’s finally calmed down from earlier. Confused, you look at him with a smile on your face. “It’s not hard to put some cream on a bandage and stick it to your face,” you chuckle, and he does the same. “Sam lets me help him when he gets injured. In fact, he comes to me because he has taught me everything. It helps having an extra pair of hands.” You murmur, hoping that what you had just said isn’t rude. Honestly, you only reacted to Dean’s rudeness by snapping at him. As you finish bandaging him up, you pat him on the shoulder as you stand up to put things back into your bag. Dean reaches out for your hand, pulling you back. You’re face to face with him, noses barely touching.

You could cut the tension with a knife between you and Dean. He always had this hard shell doming over him, making it almost impossible to actually get through to him sometimes. You had been patient, understanding, more or less a shoulder for him to cry on. He never got the hint, though, unfortunately.

Dean grins, his eyes are intriguing. The brown flecks compliment the green. They were mesmerising… intoxicating.

Your brain can’t comprehend anything other than the fact that Dean was moving closer, his lips parted and hovering over your bottom lip. You smile, eventually giving in. The kiss is passionate and hungry, as if the pair of you has been waiting for this moment for forever. Dean pulls away.

“Sorry for yelling at you earlier…” He breathes, and you shake your head.

“Shut up.” You lean in for another kiss, gently pulling him in, your fingers embracing his jawline, stubble scratching against your hand.

[ghost-bxrd]

I beg of you, more selkie Jason please 🥺. You hc about lil pup Jason saving dick was adorable. I need more, respectfully.

Gladly 💚💚

Jason retreats to the cave pools whenever he’s sacred/insecure and doesn’t resurface (apart for the occasional breath) for a long while. The first time it happens post finding out about his selkie heritage, Bruce thinks Jason must be sick and calls several vets and Leslie to cover the range of both human and seal diseases

Dick loves cuddling with Jason when he’s in his seal form (pretty sure I mentioned this before but it bears repeating ksksks)

One time when Dick is sad Jason looks like he bit on a lemon before draping his seal skin across Dick’s shoulders. Dick is too stunned and touched by the show of trust to stay sad much longer (mission accomplished)

Bruce has hours of footage of seal!Jason doing happy little spins in the cave pools and making little pup squeals. Every single video has at least three backups on different servers.

Bruce offers to have an actual pool installed for Jason to swim in (somewhere that’s not the caves) but Jason declines because the cave pools are perfect to hide.

At least one of the family take Jason to the ocean once a month minimum. Jason is too overwhelmed by the expanse of water he refuses to leave the car at all during the first trip. Dick takes him back a couple days later and just sits down with him in the shallows for an hour before Jason allows himself to shift. Later that day Bruce gets a short video to his phone that shows grainy footage of a grinning Dick diving through the waters with a wide eyed seal pup at his side. Alfred thinks Bruce is having a stroke because the man’s never worn such a big smile on his face before.

Alfred discreetly asks Leslie to test Jason’s blood for any deficiencies. Not much is known about Selkie physiology, so a lack of fresh seafood might be detrimental to his health. Thankfully that is not the case.

Dick tries getting Jason to do tricks with a ball exactly once. Jason insists he didnt know how strong his tail flip would kick the ball back in Dick’s face, but Dick can see the little shit laughing from where he’s nursing a bleeding nose.

The first time Bruce sees Jason waddling over the rough cave floor with his soft seal skin he panics so much he actually starts yelling for Alfred to “get down here right now!” and scoops the bewildered seal pup up in his arms to deposit him smack dab on the first flat and smooth surface he can find to inspect Jason for scrape wounds.

Jason eventually apologizes for the trick ball incident and proposes a peace offering by showing Dick some choreographies of swimmers performing together with the seals. Him and Dick end up learning an entire show and perform it for Bruce and Alfred for Dick’s birthday. (Dick misses the circus, and while this is very different from what he had once, this… this comes close. And nobody is in danger of falling)

Jason is hyper aware of his family’s inability to hold their breath for long and keeps close watch on them in the water, nudging them back to the surface when he considers it too long 🦭

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 19]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.6k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Frank, admittedly, isn’t as fit as he used to be. 

Running through the desert, carrying all his gear, used to be an everyday thing he could do no problem, but now, running through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he finds his breathing to be a bit labored. 

Then again, that might be because he’s pissed off. He, Jones, and Red were in the middle of setting up for a night of surveillance, something Red insisted they do, when the costumed idiot took off into the night without a word.

Normally, Red will give them the damn courtesy of letting them know before he disappears to protect his flock, so him just starting to bolt had Frank and Jones scooping up their shit and following. 

One thing Frank’s learned while working with Matt Murdock is to trust the bastard when it comes to his senses - when he says they need to clear out, there is usually a damn good reason to start running. But he has always given a reason or a head’s up - taking off like this must mean something is going down.

Jones gave up trying to keep pace a few blocks back, but Frank is determined to find out what the hell is going on. Red has the advantage of not hauling an additional fifty pounds of gear, and he has taken to parkouring over the roofs, so has gotten about a block and a half ahead. 

Frank can keep him in his sights, at least. He’s making a bee-line right towards Chelsea and that’s causing a pit to start to grow in the Marine’s stomach. Not many things override Red’s deep seeded commitment to his city and only one of those things resides outside Hell’s Kitchen. 

He adjusts his grip on his bag and forces his legs to move faster.  

The buildings around him shift from businesses to residential and about two blocks into the change, Frank knows what set the Devil off. 

His little girl is in the middle of the sidewalk, crying hysterically as her mother struggles on the ground against some fat fuck in a business suit. Frank only sees the attacker for a brief second before fury incarnate grabs him by his thick neck and slams him into the ground by Mom’s feet. The sound of a skull being cracked rings clear before it's covered by angry roars and the crunch and squelch of someone’s face being pounded in. 

By the Grace of all that is Holy, Red’s baby seems to not care her dad is about to kill a guy and scurries to her Mommy now that she is free. Frank kicks his ass into gear to get there before she can be traumatized anymore. 

He doesn’t know if the little girl recognizes him or not, but she doesn’t fight it when Frank picks her up. She clings to him desperately, burying her face against his neck and just sobbing. Instincts he forgot he had kick in and Frank bundles Minnie up in his duster, rocking her and trying to soothe her the best he can.

“Hey, hey, sweet girl, it's okay, it's okay. I gotcha. Everything’s gonna be okay, I gotcha.”

Frank cups the back of her head, careful to not tangle his fingers up in her curls and turns her away from her bloody mother. He needs to check on you, to make sure your wounds are something he can handle, and they don’t need to take you to the hospital, but he can’t do that with a crying toddler in his arms. 

“He hurt my Mommy!” The baby wails and his heart just about breaks. He wants so badly to join Red in stomping the piece of shit’s head into the pavement for endangering such a precious child, but he knows he can’t. She can’t witness any more than she already has. 

As often as Frank takes digs at Murdock for being an altar boy, he can’t let Red’s daughter see him lose control and step over the line he swore to never cross. He’d never forgive himself for causing that trauma for her. So, he hugs the little girl closer, kisses the top of her head, then grunts, “Red!”

Murdock stills mid-punch, his bloody fist raised and ready to continue his punishment. He looks feral - he is snarling, and gore has splashed up onto his face. He is shaking with rage and for a brief moment, Frank can see why he claims to have the Devil in him. Then, just as his little girl cries for her Mom again, control returns to him. Red tilts his head in a way Frank knows he heard something, then he pushes himself up into standing. 

Red rips his gloves off, throwing them to the ground, before taking the few steps to clear the gap between him and Frank. He barely starts to rasp out his daughter’s name before she’s turning in Frank’s arms and trying to throw herself to him, sobbing.

“DADDY!”

The noise Red makes is not at all human as he crushes his baby girl to his chest. A new round of loud tears start and Frank knows he has to work quickly before they start attracting attention. 

He pulls his duster off and throws it around Red’s shoulders, trying to hide his garish costume. Murdock seems to realize what he’s doing - he curls into it while ducking his horn-head and moving towards the shadows as he comforts his daughter. Frank can’t hear what he’s saying - his voice is low and the crying covers it - but honestly he doesn’t care.

He turns his attention back to your limp body on the ground, dropping down and letting his knowledge of field medicine take over.

Your forehead is bleeding pretty bad, but a quick assessment of the wound tells him it looks worse than it really is. You’ve got a pretty good gash, but it is shallow, and he doesn’t feel any bone breakage under it or swelling. You’ll need a few stitches, and a hell of a lot of ibuprofen, but you won’t need a hospital. You probably passed out from a combination of pain and exhaustion from an adrenaline rush. 

Still, Frank checks your neck before deciding to move you, just to make sure it's safe. 

As he starts to press his fingers along your spine, Jones finally makes her appearance, jogging up to the scene. 

“What the fuck?”

Frank barely looks up as he growls out his reply, focusing on his work while formulating a plan in his head, “It’s his kid.”

“Oh shit,” she replies, then after a beat, “Is he dead?”

Frank barely looks over to the beaten man in question - his chest is still rising and falling so that’s good enough for him. “Nah, not yet. Call it in - then meet us up in her apartment.” 

He rattles off the address and apartment number as he scoops you up into a fireman’s carry. He’s glad he doesn’t have far to go, because your weight, plus his gear, isn’t doing any favors to his back. As he gets you situated, Jones steps over to the attacker and nudges him in the side with her boot. His face isn’t recognizable as human, but that isn’t what she comments on. 

“What is that smell? Did he shit himself?”

“Fuck if I know, just call it in,” Frank grunts as he begins to trudge towards the right building. “Red, let's go!”

He knows he doesn’t have to explain the plan to Murdock - fucker heard him the first time. Red falls in line and by some miracle, his little girl’s crying has tampered down. She’s still crying - Frank would be more concerned if she wasn’t - but she’s tucked herself close to her Dad and seems to be just more upset than actively terrified. Frank’s got no idea what Murdock could have possibly done to soothe her, but he gives him props for doing it so damn fast. 

He can hear Jones calling for an ambulance as they enter into your building, and once in the lobby, Frank wastes no time barking another order, “Take off your helmet.” 

That earns him a glare, or what counts as a glare from the Devil, and Murdock uses one hand to pull his cowl off and stuffs it between his chest and his daughter before starting for the stairs. Frank is right at his heel and being so close means he can finally hear what Red is repeating to his girl. 

“Just listen to her heart, baby, everything’s okay. You know that sound. Just listen to her heart.”

Frank has a good guess what that means - his theory about passing out from exhaustion and pain is probably correct. If your heart isn’t in crazy panic ‘I’m dying’ mode, you should be fine after a good night’s rest. 

The only problem they encounter in the climb up to your apartment is your door. They have to do a weird song-and-dance of Frank turning so Red can get into your purse to get keys while also making sure Minnie can’t see your face. He hasn’t gotten the chance to clean you up in any way and he’s not going to let any little girl see her mom like that if he can help it. 

Once they are inside the apartment, Frank goes right to the couch to lay you out. As he does, he says over his shoulder, “I’m gonna call Curt.” 

Just because you don’t need a hospital doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see a medical professional. Frank knows what he is doing, but he does not trust himself to stitch up your face. Someone with delicate hands needs to do that, and the best person he knows for that is Curt. 

Murdock, however, disagrees. 

“Call Claire,” he counters firmly. 

Frank knows better than to argue - this is Murdock’s family and Frank ain’t got a dog in this fight. So, once you are down, and his gear is dropped, he fishes out his phone to call the feisty nurse. As he does, Red starts back towards what Frank assumes is the bedroom, talking in a sweet tone to his little girl, “It's okay, Frank’s gonna clean Mommy up, then we can go see her. She’s just got a scrape, everything’s okay.”

Frank focuses on his task at hand - as the line rings, he raids the kitchen for washcloths, bowls, and paper towels. He’s on his way back to the couch when Claire finally answers.

“What did he do this time?”

A little smile forms on his lips at her bluntness - he’s always liked Claire and her no-nonsense attitude. 

“Ain’t him. His girl got mugged, hit her head pretty good,” he explains, as he dips a washcloth into the water to start on cleaning you up. The cut on your forehead is still bleeding, but only a little by this point. He’ll have to retrace their steps to wipe away any blood droplets, so they don't leave a trail right to your door.

“So, take her to the ER.”

He hums at the response, then adds the crucial element, “His little girl saw it all.”

The line is silent for a good five seconds before Claire is swearing, “I’m on my way. How bad are we talking?”

He feels a little for the nurse at the moment - she’s always having to deal with Red broken and battered and is probably thinking she’s going to have to do some sort of impromptu surgery. He gives a rundown on your injuries, then adds, “Your stitches are nicer than mine.” 

“Exactly what a lady wants to hear. How’s the kid?” 

“Physically ok, but probably going to have nightmares for a while,” is his honest reply. There wouldn’t be an attacker left to pick up in an ambulance if Minnie had gotten hurt - he would have made sure of that no matter what Red would have said.

Claire groans in response, “I don’t know anything about child psychology, Frank.” 

“No one’s expecting you to.”

The nurse may be a miracle worker in the eyes of Red’s little vigilante group, but no one in this world is qualified to deal with all their mental problems.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there. You’re lucky I’m on this side of town already.” 

Claire hangs up on him and Franks stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He’ll need to call Mirco later to set up a camera on your building, something similar to what he’s got for Karen, and arrange for some background checks on the neighbors. The area seems to be working class just trying to get by, but isn’t that just all of the city now? Even if one drunk-off-his-ass guy just made some stupid decision, it put you and the kid in danger and that is a no-go in Frank’s book. As much Red will huff and puff and growl, his family falls under Frank’s sphere of protection and that isn’t something Frank skimps on. 

So, a full security upgrade is in your near future. 

But that is something he’ll figure out the details for later on. Right now, he puts his full attention in cleaning you up. 

The worst of it is the cut on your forehead. He folds a washcloth and sets it on the wound to help the remaining bleeding stop, then moves onto your cheeks. You’ve got some gravel stuck there, but he doesn’t see any glass or metal. There’s some bruising, but he doesn’t think it will be anything to fuss about - it will fade away within a day or so. He’s seen worse coloring on a hickey. The bastard who attacked you didn’t seem like he knew what he was doing, or he was too sloshed out of his mind to be coordinated.

 Overall, you are just pretty banged up. 

But nonetheless, Frank takes care to make sure it just looks like you are resting, even putting the throw blanket left on the couch over you to hide the grime stains on your clothes. 

Red and his creepy bat ears must be listening, because as soon as he goes to dump the bloody cleaning water, he’s coming out of the bedroom with Minnie. She’s still in his arms, clinging to his neck like a koala, but her tears have stopped. She’s still sniffling, though.

Frank hangs back as the little girl is brought to her Mommy and his heart damn near breaks again when she starts talking. 

“She’s just sleeping?” 

“She’s just sleeping,” Red confirms. He carefully kneels down beside you and makes slow, exaggerated movements as he puts his hand over your heart. “You can feel, too. Just sleeping.”

He watches as the tiny little girl untangles herself from her father and stretches to put her hand next to his. She scrunches up her nose and gets a look Frank has seen a million times on Red. 

“Boom. Boom. Boom.”

“Exactly, boom. Boom. boom. The same heart-noises Mommy makes when she sleeps.” 

They stay like that for a few seconds before little hands go up to your face and Minnie is examining your cuts.

“He hurt Mommy,” she says so softly that Frank wants to stomp back downstairs and unload his Glock into the asshole. “She has ouchies.” She turns so quickly in Red’s arm that Frank sees him jump just a little - probably still on high alert - and she slaps both her hands on his cheeks, “You have to kissy it better.”

Her voice is so serious and demanding, he’s surprised Red doesn’t instantly comply. Instead, he kisses his little one’s forehead. 

“A doctor is going to come and make sure all her ouchies are taken care of. Then we can kiss it better.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Her curls bounce as the little girl whips around to address Frank, ordering in the same voice, “You have to kissy it better, too.”

He damn well knows better than to argue with a three year old girl - Lisa could put him in his place like no one's business - so Frank simply nods with a, “Yes, ma’am.” Red doesn't look thrilled at the agreement, but he's not the one who's opinion Frank cares about.

Her brown eyes sus him out, narrowing a fraction before he passes whatever criteria she has and Minnie turns back to her mother and father. “When is she gonna wake up?”

“She'll wake up when she's done resting,” Murdock gently advises. “She needs lots of rest right now.” 

Frank knows what question is coming before it is even asked. It is the universal toddler question. 

“Why?”

Red, it seems, needs to spend more time with his kid because he looks completely baffled by the question. He repeats the word, which just gets parroted back at him, and Frank can practically hear Lisa and Frankie chanting along with her. 

Why? 

Why? 

Why?

Why would you need lots of rest in a way a terrified toddler would get it? There's a slight hint of panic in Red’s sightless eyes as he fights to find an answer and Frank takes pity on him. 

He steps forward and asks the little girl, “Have you ever played really hard then needed a nap after?”

Attention swings back to him but this time he is prepared for it. Minnie considers his question, then nods, and Frank gives her a soft, friendly smile. “Same thing, sweetheart. Your Mommy’s body worked really hard and now she needs a nap.” 

“She needs a nap,” the baby replies and then, to his amusement, proceeds to stuff her fingers into her mouth and suck on them. He's got no idea what that means, but Red’s shoulders relax a fraction, so he assumes it's a good thing. 

He wonders if she's starting to get tired now that the action is over. He can't imagine why they were out in the first place, but he has to guess it was to get something from the store. That is his experience with bringing a baby in their pajamas out at night - there was something needed that couldn't wait until morning. That would also explain the black bag in your purse.

He looks to Red and his girl - Murdock has sat himself on the floor beside the couch, facing you, and Minnie is tucked in his lap, sucking her fingers still. Both of their focus seems to be on you. So, Frank lets curiosity get the better of him and he goes to snoop. 

There’s a bottle of Pedialyte nestled inside the bag, and by the tiny bit missing, he has a feeling he knows who it is for. He looks from it, over to the sweet child sitting in Red’s lap, and decides she probably still needs it if her mom went out in the middle of the night for it. So, he turns his snooping to the kitchen and opens and closes cabinets until he finds the one holding sippy cups. All of them have Braille labels on them and he briefly wonders what each says before grabbing one with Big Bird on it. He gives it a good rinse before filling it up halfway with the blue liquid.

He removes his tactical vest before he heads back to the living room. He thinks of it more of a sign for Red than Minnie. The little girl might be scared of the skull art, but he hopes it will help Murdock relax. He’s putting on a good face for his daughter, but Frank can see the tension in his jaw and how on edge and angry he must be, and he can’t be blamed. He knows how emotional Red can get and he’s surprised he’s managing to keep it together - so subtly letting him know ‘there’s no danger here’ and Frank isn’t a threat to his family might just get him to stop grinding his teeth. 

He approaches slowly and somewhat loudly, while holding out the sippy cup, “Here you go, sweetie.”

Minnie blinks up at him with those wide brown eyes and he can see the exhaustion starting to creep in - getting a bottle might just knock her out. He has to lean down so she can take it, but as soon as she does, her hand drops from her mouth and she politely mumbles, “Thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

“What is it?” Murdock questions, nose twitching to try to figure out the smell. Frank doubts he’s familiar with the drink, but soon he’ll have it memorized.

“Blue Pedi-lyte,” the baby grumbles before the spout goes right into her mouth and she starts to nurse it. Almost instantly she starts leaning back against Red’s chest and Frank knows right away she’ll be asleep within minutes. 

He checks his phone as he goes to take a seat at the kitchen table. Claire should be here any minute and it's a toss up if Jones comes up or not. He’ll wait until everything is all settled to head out - he does want to make sure you are okay and he’s not going to leave Claire alone with an upset kid and her Dad-devil. 

Frank brings up his texts to Karen to start typing out that the op is a bust, when Murdock’s quiet voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Nothing to thank me for, Red. It’s your family. You don’t gotta explain that to me.”

“Still, thank you, Frank. I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Murdock.”

---

a/n: frank has entered the chat and assumed Alpha Dad role. his family now.

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium

@anehkael

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

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@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[love-bugsy]

good ol' gotham | jason todd

the worst thing about love

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

two | three | four | series masterlist

content warnings: no editing, allusions to character death, (haphazard) depictions of grief, smoking + mentions of alcohol, swearing, completely ooc Jason bc he’s just my lil guy, medical terminology learned from greys anatomy lol

only jerks steal other people’s writing and mine isn’t even that good so no reposts

You and Jason sit across from each other in a diner booth, his restless leg bouncing under the table and your workaholic fingers tapping rhythms on the lacquer. The tired waitress who begged for your shift today brings over a plate of fries for you both, waving you off when you try to tip her. She gives your head an affectionate ruffle like she used to when you were 6, and you flush. As she goes to wait the next table, Jason laughs and says something about nepotism. You reach over and smack him.

He scoops up a heaping handful of fries, holding out his cigarette in his free hand so he can choke it down. He wipes his hands on his pants, taking another drag. You frown as your eyes dart between him and the ‘no smoking’ sign, glaring pointedly at the cigarette hanging half out of his mouth. He huffs, hiding a smile as he crushes the lit end on the underside of the table and flicks it into a nearby bin. You kiss your teeth, rolling your eyes but it’s entirely too fond to have any lasting effect. This damn boy’s got you wrapped around his battered fingers.

“Those’ll kill you, you know,” you huff, shoving a couple of fries in your mouth and basking in greasy diner heaven. Jason tilts his head, examining you, and snorts when you chuck a fry at his face. 

“So you tell me every time, and yet, miraculously, I’m still here.” He plucks the fallen fry out of his lap, not even brushing it off before he scarfs it down and reaches for another handful. You eye his hand, meant to shovel chips into his mouth but instead is littered with callouses and cigarette burns. It’s a stretching silence as you find your words.

“S’killing you slowly.”

“Lucky me.” He shoots you a toothy grin, leaning back into the booth, one hand laid out face-down on the table. The bruises on his knuckles are a motley of yellow and purple; your hand aches just looking at the scabs that litter the top of his hand. You’re sure he doesn’t feel it, though - he’s always healing, gaining new wounds before the old ones are finished scarring over. A veritable human ship of Theseus. 

His hand clenches into a fist under your gaze and you suddenly become very interested in the plate of fries between you. ‘M’not gonna stop,” he says, tone unyielding. You don’t know whether he’s talking about his smoking or the elephant-sized robin in the room. Probably both.

“But maybe you should.” You blurt out, and the way his face twists in anger makes you want to cover your mouth and hide. You hate how he clings to things - smoking, grudges, Robin - you think it’ll be the death of him one day. But you’re a hypocrite, because you love how he clings to you. Jason’s jaw feathers.

“Just fucking back off, okay?”, he snaps at you, and you go silent - you don’t want to have the same argument for the thousandth time. You study the way his eyes close and he sinks back into the chair - guilt washing away the enraged crease between his brows.

You forget - all the time - how angry he is, all of it built up under his rib cage. You think he gets scared to show it to you, like it’ll scare you away. For all his intelligence, Jason has yet to grasp the fact that you have Gotham in you too - spent your whole life atoning for the sin of your existence here. You’re angry too, of fucking course you are.

There’s no shortage of anger and fear and desperation in Gotham - they flood the gutters and hang dormant in the smog. Not many people choose to be kind here, it’s just too hard to. You think maybe your bleeding heart is at fault for how he tiptoes around you, but you wish he would just be honest. This diner, your friendship - it’s so far removed from the rest of his life… you wish he would stop treating you like a precious secret. 

“I-” You shake your head when he starts to apologise, waving your hand as if to clear the air between you.

“It’s forgotten,” you say, even though it never is. The tilt of his head reads you like an old book. Getting up, he rounds the table, shoving you further into the booth and looping an arm around your shoulders. Neither of you say anything - Jason reaching awkwardly for another chip - but the warm press of his side against yours is words enough. You shuffle - somehow - closer to him and take the hand that's over your shoulder, moving it delicately into your lap. You run careful circles around the bruises on his knuckles, trying to commit the warmth of him to memory. Trying to remember him while he’s still here. 

When you glance back at him, he’s looking at you with something wide and soft and world-ending in his eyes. The hand in your lap shifts around to thread your fingers together and he squeezes your hand almost uncomfortably. This boy, this fucking boy, who loves too much, too rough, too pure. “You can’t be real,” he whispers, and the diner melts away and all that’s left is his (blue blue blue) eyes and the way his hand holds yours like a lifeline. You hope you love him enough that it shows - that it spills out of the gaping seams of your stitched up heart. Clammy palms grip tighter to each other.

“I’m real, blue. This is real.”

“No. No,” he says, using your name in that careful, hard-edged tone he does when he’s serious, “It’s not.”

You wake gasping, shooting up in your bed as you try to catch your breath. Your hand crushes against your chest, trying to still your pounding heart. Fumbling in your sheets for your phone, you squint at the time. 4:02. You shuffle around, bare feet meeting hardwood floors and start to follow an unconscious morning routine - brain still foggy with sleep. It’s not until you’re wiping the steam off your bathroom mirror that you remember what day it is. The anniversary.

Reminders of Jason always hit you like a truck - blue mugs, cigarettes, hero complexes - but visiting his grave is another beast. You’re not one to let things get to you, moving too fast for anything to stick; but today is always cruel. In the entryway, you go back and forth between jackets, eventually yanking Jason’s old one from where it's hidden underneath all your others. Burying your face in the collar, you grab your keys and step into the biting Gotham wind. 

You take the metro up to the park by the Wayne Estate, stopping on the way to buy overpriced flowers and a travel sized bottle of whiskey. You stop outside the imposing gates - always closed but never locked - to take a shuddering breath. It’s never easier. 

Pushing open the rusted gate, you make the short trek up to the Wayne cemetery. Jason’s grave is a ways away from the others, hidden by an ancient sycamore tree. Autumn has come early this year, yellowing the sycamore’s leaves and burning your nose with the fresh scent of death. 

You really fucking hate this day.

It’s not the real anniversary of his death. You shudder to think about seeing Bruce Wayne here, and you doubt he’d even recognise you. Probably for the best. You’d tear him to pieces for existing when Jason is gone. No, today is the last time he left the diner - that’s the day Jason Todd died to you.

You remember staying up to watch the press conference Bruce Wayne gave after Jason’s death was reported. Sitting in a cold, empty diner, listening to his cold, empty responses, and grinding your teeth to bits. 

Wayne looks tired - beaten down, “No comment,” he says, when the questions steer to Jason. You’re furious that he could even bear to stay silent when you are tearing at the seams with things to say. Because Jason was kind, he was sharp as a whip and just as witty. And he was brash, and loud, and impulsive and full of a wild energy that hummed under the surface of his skin. And he was good. He was so good.

Somewhere between Wayne’s practised speech about the orphanage he’s opening in Jason’s name and his final statement, you mute the television and go back to washing dishes. It’s a herculean effort not to look up; waiting for Jason to start rambling about a book he’d read or someone he’d saved. You tuck your head down, avoiding the reminder that he was never going to keep you company again.

In the background, Bruce Wayne talks silently to a rapt audience.

And how they lauded him as Jason’s saviour - the homeless criminal turned social messiah by Wayne Enterprises. You want to scream; he was good already, he was good to the bone. But Gothamites - as much as they like to deny it - are obsessed with the idea of heroes. In a city of the uber wealthy and the poorest of the poor - everybody wants someone to save them. Big Brucie Wayne swooping in to reform a Gotham bottom-feeder? That’s a story everyone was taken by.

The crunch of a leaf underfoot pulls you out of your head and you realise you’re standing in front of Jason’s grave. Sitting yourself down, cross-legged, you face the grave; whiskey in one hand and flowers in the other. 

You’ve never liked his headstone. No pretentious quotes, no sardonic digs from beyond the grave. Just a dry, impersonal epitaph, etched permanently in his name: ‘In memory of Jason Peter Todd, loving son’.

You think he would’ve hated being reduced to someone’s son. You don’t think he was anyone’s anything. He was Gotham’s. He was yours. He was Batman’s. And then he was dead.

He was never any of those things at the same time. And he was certainly no one’s son. 

He was loving, though. You’ll give ‘em that.

“Well,” you say, unscrewing the bottle and downing half of it with a grimace, “Cheers, blue.” Nearly a decade and you still hate the taste of whiskey. You’d both made a pact that it would be your first legal drink - both with romantic ideas about what it would taste like. To you, it really just tastes like soap; but tradition is tradition. You reach out, brushing the thin layer of dirt that’s gathered over his headstone, eyes catching on the crude little bird carving in the top right corner. 

You’d carved it into his headstone the first year after he died; spent the whole year silently aching - haunted by empty space, reaching for him only to find air. That night was just the breaking point. It hadn’t helped that you were drunk off your ass either. 

You remember being miserably sick the next morning and - as you rested your head on the cool porcelain of your toilet - feeling selfishly satisfied that you were hurting at all. Visiting him early is selfish for you too. You want them to know you loved him first. You want them to know that somewhere, there is someone who mourns him into ruin. 

Or at least, into vandalism.

Now you drop the flowers on his grave - chrysanthemums and white lilies - and sweep away a stray fallen leaf. Crouched in front of his grave, you press your fingers to your lips, then to the bird. You feel the throb of a lump in your throat, and stand up fully, zipping up your jacket. The train home is loud and sweaty, but you feel more alone than ever.

You need a smoke.

~

Your apartment door is barely locked before you’re sliding up your window and ducking out onto the fire escape. Digging around in the pockets of Jason’s jacket, you fumble for your lighter, and the pack of cigarettes you’d bought on the way home. 

You lean over your fire escape railing, lighting up and taking a long drag. It’s a rare clear night in Gotham, and you close your eyes as you breathe out, listening to the faint, familiar whine of sirens. This. This is why you’ll never leave Gotham—these rare serene moments where you’re brought back down to earth by the familiar smell of rain and pavement; an early-Autumn breeze ruffling your hair.

Your moment of peace is interrupted when Red Hood swings down onto your fire escape, and you startle, dropping your - still-lit - cigarette over the railing. 

“Fuck!” You lean over the railing as if you’ll be able to catch it, letting your head fall against the cool metal in defeat. “Please tell me you don’t need stitches tonight,” you grumble, head still hung over the railing. A hand grasps the back of your shirt, pulling you - a little roughly - away from the edge. Your eyes flash up to his mask, only to find him looking away.

“No stitches.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I… I’m not- injured.” Your brow creases.

“Then… why are you here?” He pauses. If you hadn’t been slowly learning him over the past few months, you’d mistake his silence for stoicism, but his shoulders are drawn up slightly and his gaze is focused on a spot just above your head. He seems… sheepish? No. Caught. He clears his throat—hand in the cookie jar.

“I just…,” long pause, “Drop by sometimes. To check you’re… you know.” You do not know. You raise a brow and he nods over at the pack of cigarettes balancing on the railing.

“I’ve never seen you smoke before.” Not exactly a seamless subject change, but you know better than to pry when the other person has guns strapped to their thighs. Your eyes drift to the cigarettes, and back to Red.

“Only when I’m stressed.” He does that head tilt-y thing—trying to read you. 

“Something more stressful than surgery on a stranger in your apartment?” You just hum, turning away and reaching for another cigarette. Lighting it, you hold the pack out to Red as you take another drag and exhale. He shakes his head, “Quit a long time ago, doc.” Your surprise must paint itself all over your face because he laughs lowly, rasping out his response.

“Had a friend who hated it.”

Brows creasing, you tilt your head, appraising him in a quiet once-over. “You don’t seem like the type to change for anyone, Red.” Somehow he stiffens and relaxes at the same time; you get the sense that the answer to your observation is just as paradoxical, equal parts right and wrong.

“Yeah well, she was…” He trails off, gaze drifting from you and shoulders sinking. He looks… lost. Watching him feels like you’re intruding on a private moment, so you turn away, leaning heavily on the railing. You take another long drag of your cigarette and exhale the smoke into the wind.

“Was that you? The sirens?”     

He huffs, railing creaking as he settles next to you. “Yeah. Some asshole trying to rob a mom-and-pop store.” You kiss your teeth in mirrored disappointment, nose wrinkling.

“Good ol’ Gotham.” You feel his gaze boring into you and make a point to glare defiantly out at the skyline - avoiding him. The hand that isn’t keeping a loose grip on your cigarette begins to scratch anxiously at the rust on the railing. 

Red points vaguely at your cigarette, “What’s your stressor?” Without really noticing it, you clench your jaw and your hand moves halfway up to your mouth before you stop it. Old habits quelled by memories of bleeding nails bitten to the quick. You realise you’ve waited too long to spout a believable lie.

“Visited my friend’s grave.” You don’t even bother to school your voice, letting it claw its way across shards of glass to be heard.

“‘M sorry.” Red’s head inclines slightly, gloved hand inching towards yours. You just shrug.

“It’s been nearly ten years.” 

“Doesn’t make it easier.” He tells you and you know it isn’t false platitudes. Death is an old friend of the both of you. 

You pause, letting the city rush over you. “No,” you say finally, “It doesn’t.” Reaching again for your cigarette, you feel the weight of the day prickling at the backs of your eyes. The railing creaks as he leans heavier against it.

“Tell me about them.” 

“What?” 

“Your friend.”

You take a deep breath, brows knit, “He was…,” you roll your lips together, trying not to choke up, “Reckless.” Red snorts, hanging his head in surprised amusement. You smile for the first time all day. “I swear danger followed him around or something, I was always having to patch him up, even before—“ You cut yourself off, white-knuckling the railing. 

“He’s the reason I’m a doctor.” There’s a thick silence, which Red breaks with a staticky whistle. 

“You’re something else, doc.” Your brows knit, fingers drumming on the railing. The cold seeps into your bones, fire escape creaking with every gust of wind. Looking out over the city, you shake your head at nobody.

“I’m…” you swallow, dislodging the breath stuck in your throat, “I’m tired.” You fumble for the right words and Red waits, turning his back on the skyline, mask angled down.

Shaky hand brings your cigarette to your lips, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “So much of me is him… I don’t know—“ your voice cracks, “No one can help me carry the love he left me with. I don’t know where it goes.”

More silence—you’re starting to get comfortable with it. He lifts his head, and you think he might talk, instead, he carefully pulls off a glove, shoving it in his pocket so he can run a warm, calloused palm over your upper arm. You choke up at the gesture, gritting your teeth against the lump in your throat when your eyes catch on his bruised knuckles. Haven’t we been here before?

“Think ya just get bigger around it, doc.” Blinking at him, you dissolve into tears—a dam held in since this morning. Embarrassed, you close your eyes, tears running, unbidden, down your cheeks. 

Red’s mask pulls back slightly in shock, “Fuck, sorry, m’not good at this, don’t—” He flounders a little, hand gripping your arm with a ferocity you know is unconscious. The physicality of the action steadies you.

“I’m not—” you huff out a wet laugh, “It’s not you, I just… you lose someone and everything you used to share becomes a sign. My life is marked by a ghost.”

“Fingerprints.”

“… yeah.” You crush your half-smoked cigarette against the railing, flicking it over the edge. You stand, awkwardly, next to each other; neither of you wanting to leave but both empty of words. Your hands tap nervously on the railing and you shove them in your pockets - if only to have something to do with them. Pulling out your lighter, you flick it on and off absently, watching the flame flicker under your control.

The lighter distracts you for a little, but soon you realise that Red has gone rigid beside you; the silence between you just slightly too thick. You shoot him an inquisitive glance, trying to gauge what he’s thinking.

“Nice lighter.” he says, gaze locked on the bird etched into it. Your brows furrow.

“It’s not really mine.” The truth, if obfuscated a little.

“Is it… a robin?” You shake your head, a little laugh escaping you at how bad your etching job must’ve been.

“A bluejay.” The second the words leave your mouth, he goes still - so still you’re unsure if he’s still breathing. “Red?”

“Blue?” You wave a hand in front of his face, shaking him out of a thousand yard stare into his coffee mug. “Earth to Jason Todd.” He shoots you a flat look and watches as your face breaks into a world-ending laugh. Leaning forward, he raps bruised knuckles against the counter. You shake your head to hide the split second of worry in your eyes at the sight of his hands. Jason notices.

“So why do you call me blue?” He says, trying to innocuously tuck his hands back under the table. You huff, clumsy hands dropping the dish you’re washing in the sink with a clatter. You lean on the edge of the sink, collecting yourself before you answer.

“Why do you call me birdie?” 

“‘Cause you’re small. ‘Nd you got a pretty voice.” He must imagine the bashful way you tuck your head into your shoulder. Like you liked that.

Picking up the plate you dropped, you rinse and dry it, letting him stew in your lack of answer for a little. “It's a play on words.” Jason’s brows knit, trying to think of the connection you’d conjured. “Blue. Like blue jay.”

“Ha ha.” 

“I’m serious.”

His brows crease. “Why a bird?” (Why not a robin?)

You give him a funny look, eyes squinted like you’re reading his mind. You always seem to know what he’s thinking. Jason shifts in the barstool; feathers ruffled. 

“It’s just a nickname, Jay.” Jason knows you; he knows the word ‘just’ doesn’t have a place in your vocabulary. But he spots the tiny crease in your brow, your red raw hands, the single knot on your apron in place of a double knot—reads your language. He takes a swig of coffee from his baby blue mug, grinning toothily before he changes the subject. 

~

Bruce’s office door is closed when Jason returns to Wayne Manor, so Jason finds himself roaming the halls aimlessly. His feet carry him to the library—he still has to stand in awe every time he wanders between the statuesque shelves, spilling over with books. 

Slipping further into the maze of shelves, Jason doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for until he spots it. His fingers graze an untouched ornithology book, sliding it into his lap. Cross-legged on the floor, Jason flips it open to the chapter on blue jays.

... so i'm not dead, lol, and I am still writing - albeit very slowly and sporadically. the past few months have been very hectic, but I'm going to have a lot more writing time now that my first term of uni (!!) is nearly over. anyway, sorry to keep you guys waiting and I hope you enjoy reading my silly story :)

with love, bugsy

[devondespresso]

(found this bad boy in my drafts and honestly i loved reading it again so we're gonna post it. wahoo)

my personal canon for post-starcourt stobin is that they're actually inseparable for the first month or so

im talking steve taken to the hospital for his injuries and the staff having to force them apart and call security. im talking they have to drag robin kicking and screaming to a different room because last time Steve left her sight he was dragged back lifeless and presumably dead (i firmly believe they intentionally used physical torture for steve and to use his condition for psychological torture for robin)

and steve waking up half-present in a cold plain room alone? might as well be back in the bunker. and if theres doctors trying to run tests and examine his wounds? might as well be Russian soldiers standing over him and touching his injuries. hurting him again. possibly planning to hurt Robin next.

and now hospital staff are trying to deal with two screaming desperate teenagers who keep begging for the other in between rambles of nonsense and they can't run tests or do their jobs or even get answers from them because all these two seem to care about is the other teen

so they don't really have any practical choices other than moving them to a combined room. and they still freak out every now and then but having the other in the room keeps these outbursts much shorter and doctors are able to actually run tests and help these kids as long as they're close together. And when Robins blood tests and everything come back ok and shes able to be discharged, shes given special permission to stay in the room at all times

and the two little kids that came in with them? they're not exactly freaking out quite like the teens but they're certainly not making things easy either. Ericas testing the willpower of any doctor or nurse she can speak to and both kids stay as close as they can at all times and refuse to leave the hospital. visiting hours over? they're in the waiting room, even convinced a couple to move so they can have seats closest to the hall that teens room is in. try to call their parents? good luck getting a full name or number out of them. once their parents do come get them they're showing back up in an hour, bikes lodged in the bike rack and back in their seats. they've been stopped for sneaking in several times and caught hiding under one of the teens beds even more often. eventually staff just gets tired of spending half their shift wrangling two middle schoolers and it becomes an unspoken agreement to just ignore them hiding in the room.

And once Steve is discharged its the same thing all over again. Robins parents were worried about her spending all her time in the hospital with the boy from her summer job, but given the cover story about the fire and the pair getting trapped inside they convinced themselves its reasonable to want to stay by your friends side while they recover

but now that hes out, shes asking if she can spend the night at his house? and his parents won't be there? absolutely not. except robins in no mindset to accept leaving him alone for this long let alone overnight so she tried sneaking out to bike over to his before he can get the dumb idea to drive over in the middle of the night post-concussion. but the buckleys notice shes gone either because she makes too much noise sneaking out or they notice the severe lack of Robin-trying-to-be-quiet noises into the night (robin my tism queen definitely has bump-into-shit syndrome in the middle of the night but she also doesn't make any noise sneaking around the base with scoops troop so i think it's a 50/50 weather she can use the adrenaline to sneak out to see steve quietly)

so they put two and two together and drive over to the Harrington house. steve answers the door and calls robin over, both of them looking sheepish but not exactly guilty. they talk on steves couch (yes Steves there too) and stobin does their best to explain their separation anxiety that gets the severity across without getting them sent to a mental hospital all while making sure not to break any ndas (which ends up being a long conversation with stobin trying to translate their experience in the bunker to fit the cover story well enough, which is very different when the real story is kidnapping and the fake one is a building fire)

eventually they reach an understanding of "we're worried this is kinda unhealthy but its clearly more stressful to try and separate you right now and we're definitely not going to be able to stop you" so they compromise to let steve stay at the buckleys for a little bit so they can at least keep an eye on them. at first they try just letting steve sleep on the couch (which they agree to because steve worried about overstepping as the guest in their house) but one or both of them have nightmares the first night and robin ends up on the couch with him anyway.

after a few nights they get the gist of the stobin dynamic: attached so strongly its concerning but nothing... flirty. anything they do is always completely innocent. hand holding with no heart eyes, banter with no tension, hell even sharing a bed they resemble little kids in a sleepover pile more than lovers. and especially after nightmares they'll find robin holding steve like hes just one of her old teddy bears.

of course theyre still cautious and have their suspicions that theyre secretly dating and just really good at hiding it, they're paranoid parents after all and robins never shown this much attention to a boy ever. but they do relax a bit with it as they're more confident theres no... funny business.. going on. or at the very least nothing thats going to leave robin hurt. they'll have their talks and robin will promise its "nothing like that", but they've grown to like steve so they're sure robin will come to them when shes ready.

now if only there was a reasonable explanation for the middle schoolers that keep showing up. apparently they were also trapped in the fire with robin and steve which helps make some sense of it, but they also sat with them in the hospital. surely if they're having nightmares about the fire they'd go to their parents? they hadn't really talked much with the sinclairs but they seemed like very loving parents and robin follows steve to his little dinners with mrs Henderson pretty often so its not likely that they can't go to their parents about nightmares, but they seem to prefer going to steve specifically. like ringing the Buckley's doorbell at 1 in the morning asking if steves there. and of course they'll let them in and show them to robins room (after calling their parents first, do they even know their childs run off?) where steve was sleeping in a pallet on the floor but is now a glorified blanket pile robins hugging. on her bed, of course. because god forbid theres 2 feet of space between them.

and the kid just joins them in their sleepover pile, dustin usually clinging to steves other side like a baby koala and erica usually finding a spot leaning against robin or occasionally making room in between them

and so more often than not the Buckley's have not one, not two, but three extra children in their house that isn't their daughter, all of them sleeping in a pile on robins bed like theres nowhere else they'd rather be

[miniwheat77]

141 + König finding out reader has had long term struggles with Self Harm.

This was a request, you can find the ask here.

!CW! Self harm, talk of attempted suicide, (sorry if I missed any.)

König:

Tears stream down your face, you’re looking desperately for anything. Any kind of Razor or sharp object. It’s late at night, you can’t find anything. Usually you would just break a mirror, or anything glass around you. But this isn’t your house. This mirror isn’t yours to break. You’ve done so good but recently, it’s been hard. You’re struggling every day. You managed to cover up the scars to enter the military and hid them very well with your uniforms. You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the bathroom you’re in, trying to calm yourself. You don’t hear the bathroom door open because you’re in your own head. You don’t notice anything until large hands are grasping your wrists. “It’s okay, liebling.” His deep accented voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He sees the old scars that litter your wrists, holding onto them tightly. “You’ve made it so far, done so good. Why ruin that now?” He mumbles. His hood covers his face but you can see the sadness in his eyes. “I’m just struggling lately.” You sniffle. “It’s okay. We all struggle.” He breathes. He holds onto you tightly, he’s trying to ground you, bring you back down to earth. “Look at me. Take a deep breath with me.” He breathes. “You’re okay.” He takes in a deep breath, and you follow him. Taking in a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He lifts your hand up so that he could get a better look. There’s clearly years of scars littering your wrists. Tears stream down your face. “I didn’t think that you would like me.”

König laughs bitterly behind his hood. “Sweetheart.. nothing is going to change the way that I feel about. Especially not scars. Scars mean you’re healing. Heilung ist alles” he lifts your chin up to look at him. “When you feel like this, you tell me. Verstanden?” He is stern. “Understood..” you look down. “Now, time for bed. I got you.” He scoops you up, carrying you back to your bed.

Ghost:

Your hands tremble, blood pooling at the bottom of your wrist before dripping onto the linoleum flooring. Your right hand holds a razor, now coated in your own blood. It’s a curse. The way that you relied on the shiny metal to ground you. Bring you back to earth. Your eyes are bloodshot, tears stain your cheeks. You should have been better about locking the door, because the handle twists, and Ghost steps inside. You scramble up, throwing your wrists behind your back. “Shit- sorry.” He mumbles, voice deafening as he notices the blood on the ground. “Are you hurt? What happened?” He takes a step toward you. “I.. I just scratched myself earlier. No big deal.” You lie.

He narrows his eyes, eyeing the way you’re holding not just one of your hands behind your back, but both. “Let me see them.” He demands, taking another step forward. “There’s no need for that, I’m okay.” You laugh. He grasps hold of your arms, pulling hard on you. A cry leaves your lips and he forces you to show him what you’ve done. Not only are there fresh cuts, but there’s more. There are some faded, clearly from years of self harm. He swallows hard, choosing not to say anything. He pulls on your arms, forcing you toward the sink, running the fresh wounds under the water. “Deep breath.” He mumbles, reaching into the medicine cabinet and pouring peroxide over the wounds. You hiss and try to pull away but he keeps you there. He helps you bandage up, not saying anything and you worry about what he’s going to say. He doesn’t say anything, instead, pulling you into him and hugging you tightly. “No more. I mean it. I will chain you up to a pipe and you will suffer if you do this ever again.” He grumbles. Hearing you laugh. “I mean it Y/N. No more of this. You’re too good to be doing this to yourself.” He hides the fact that he has tears in his eyes.

Captain Price:

His eyes catch a single glimpse by accident during a meeting. He often wondered why you only ever wore long sleeves but now, it all made sense. “Y/N, my office.” He nods. You nod your head, following behind him. He opens the door, closing it after you walk in. “What did you need?” You ask. “What did you need me for, John?” You ask. He grasps hold of your wrist, pushing your sleeve up. You try to pull your hand away but he has a tight hold on you. They’re old, none are new. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a past with this?” He asks. You swallow hard. “I don’t know.. it was just something really dumb that I did as a teenager. I stopped right before I joined the military.” You mumble. “Do you still feel this way?” He asks. “I’ll always feel that little devil on my shoulder, but I can control it now.” You shrug. He nods. He grasps your hips, pulling you into him. Kissing you a little harder than he usually would, pressing his forehead to yours once he pulls away. “You come to me whenever you feel like hurting yourself. Okay?” He is stern. You nod your head. “I love you. And I need you here with me.” He lifts your hand up, kissing your wrists. You weren’t sure how you ended up being with someone so kind, someone so gentle with you. But you needed it. You almost never felt like hurting yourself when he was around you. He was too supportive and reassuring. He did his best to keep you safe and that’s everything to you. “I love you too John.” You smile. Kissing him again.

He lifts you up by your thighs, setting you on top of his desk and cupping the sides of your head to kiss you even harder. “I’ve got you now, we all do. And I’m proud of you for doing so good. So fucking proud of you for overcoming this.” He breathes.

Soap:

You only ever wore shorts when you were alone. Because you had scars on the tops of your thighs. They were easier to hide. You forget to set your alarm one night, so Soap makes his way into your room to wake you, catching a glimpse of one of your exposed thighs. Seeing the small white lines. They’re old, but the meaning behind them breaks his heart immediately. He swallows hard, sitting down on the side of your bed, running his fingers along them. When he leans down and kisses them, you stir in your sleep just a little, eyes opening. “Johnny? What are you doing?” You mumble. “You didn’t tell me.” He mumbles, you realize he’s running the pad of his thumb over the raised lines. Your lips part slightly and you can’t explain yourself. “I’m sorry…” you breath. He looks up at you. “Do you do it anymore?” He asks. “Not for a couple weeks.” You breathe. He nods his head. “Every time you do this to yourself, I’ll do it to my own thigh.” He looks at you, what he says is toxic. He knows it.

“What?” You ask. “Every little bit of damage you do to yourself, I will do to myself. You cut yourself, I cut myself. And I’ll look, everyday if I have to.” He mumbles. “Johnny.” You sigh. “No. Your skin is too fucking beautiful for this. You’re better than this.” He breathes. He leans down. Kissing your forehead. “I’m here now. I’m here to talk to, vent to. Anything. I’ll keep you safe. But you have to promise me you’ll never do this again.” He raises his pinky up, like you taught him. “Promise?” He swallows hard. You smile, eyes filling with tears. “Okay Johnny.” You link your pinky with his. “I promise.” He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. Hand cupping your scars. He didn’t want to draw his hand away from you. He hated that you’d do this to yourself. You were so perfect. Too good for this.

Gaz:

Gaz is who found you. It was an accident, but he didn’t know it. You had cut too deep. He found you a few minutes later.

He sits beside your hospital bed, eyes burning and bloodshot. He’d almost lost the love of his life. And not even at the hands of a terrorist. It burns him inside, how he didn’t know sooner. It stings even more that you hid it from him. He went through your entire house, finding razors taped under the sink. He threw everything out. He was mad, sure. But he was heartbroken. Shattered by the fact that you were struggling so hard but chose to keep it to yourself. When your eyes flutter open and he sees you, you’re confused at first. “Kyle? What happened?” You ask. He nods to your wrists, and you move them to look at yourself. Blood running cold. “You barely made it.” He mumbles. “I.. I didn’t mean to.” You mumble. “Why?” He asks. It’s the one question he almost never got to ask you. “I.. I don’t know.” Tears stream from your eyes. “I almost lost you. You would’ve left me. With unanswered questions. With nothing.” He sighs. “I’m sorry Kyle.” You cry. He lowers his head. Tears spilling from his eyes. He sniffles, trying to force them back. But he can’t. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just.. I get so angry at myself. I was just trying to take my anger out. I didn’t mean to.. to..” you can’t even say it. He sighs. “You come to me. No more of this Y/N. If I lose you…” he can’t finish his sentence without his voice breaking. “I’m here. I have you now. No more of this. We’re getting you the help you need. And I’ll be right there with you along the way.” He stares at you. You nod your head. “Okay.. okay Kyle.” You breathe. He was right.

[tokkiiecloud]

WHB characters comfort after SH :

CW/TW : SH mentions ; Scars ; Blood ; OOC(?)

Characters : Satan ; Mammon ; Leviathan ; Beelzebub / Bael ; Lucifer ; Belphegor / Beleth

A/N : Sorry if anyone feels uncomfortable, I just needed that comfort for myself and all the people that are going through a tough time<3(and I apologize for how long it is) anyways I won’t be dragging this Author’s note any longer!

Heavy breathing, heart thumping loudly so much you could hear it from a mile away, eyes blurry from the tears. So to speak you were having a panic attack, it wasn’t the first one nor was it going to be the last one but it was a pretty bad one…you cover you’re ears but you could still hear the fast heartbeats. When suddenly you notice a small piece of glass on the ground, why was it there and how, didn’t even cross your mind but the moment you noticed it, you calmed down, you walked towards it and grabbed it.

(Slash) the first slash you were able to calm your nerves (slash) the second one the tears stopped (slash) the last one your heart calmed down too.

The crimson blood started flowing…how nice. Such a familiar and calming feeling, at every slash you couldn’t feel the glass cut you but it still was quite helpful.

After realizing what you did you had to find a way to hide them quickly and stop the blood but it was too late…someone already had called your name….

Satan :

He had called out to you, since he left to go do his ‘king duties’ but when he got closer he’s eyes widened. W…why was there blood on you? And why did you have a piece of glass in your hands did you inflict that pain into yourself?!

To say he was mad was an understatement :

“Why the fuck did you hurt yourself?!” He yelled.

You stayed quiet which made him even more mad, until he’s voice came low full of worry

“Am I unreliable? *sigh* you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to but…I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Tears started to form in your eyes once again at the gentle voice. He took you in his arms holding you close and rubbing your back. That’s what Paimon does to him when he has a depressive episode so bad he can’t even get up from his bed.

Successfully it calmed you down. Now to tend to your wounds…

Mammon :

“Master? Are you alright-“ he asks before his eyes see the blood flowing from your arm. He stares at you and quietly walks up to you and scoops you up in his arms. This was the first time you’ve ever seen such a complicated look in his eyes. You didn’t to speak up telling him not to worry. He held you in his arms and took you to the infirmary of Tartaros, yes there isn’t much doctors but he atleast knows how to take care of those cuts. After tending to your wounds his eyebrows furrowed and he kissed the bandaged forearms :

“Mammon I-“

“Master why?” He asked, his voice soft. He looked up at you eyes hurt and sad from the state you were in, you couldn’t just brush it off to not worry him..

“It’s just…i just… *sigh* It helps me…calm down.”

He stayed silent, after a bit you saw he started to tremble it really affected him seeing you hurt and not being able to help you.

“Mammon…”

“Master..! Please never again..if you need to calm down please I am begging don’t do it…I hate seeing you hurt..” you sigh and kiss Mammon’s forehead and cheek.

“I’ll do my best” at that he smiles softly at your words

Beelzebub / Bael :

( I cannot not include Bael y’all)

“Y/N? Is everything alright in here?” Bael asked worried as he entered the room to see you, with injured arms. “Did..did you hurt yourself?” He asked, you look away shameful that Bael saw you in a horrible mindset, he sighed and walked closer to you “oh my dear…” after this sentence Beelzebub bursts through the window “HEYYY” you flinch at his loud greeting and hide yourself in Bael’s arms, he understands quickly and embraces you.

“Bell, right now is not the time. Leave please.” Bael said coldly “Wooww this time you’re not forcing me to do my work Bael!~” He laughed before his aura turned menacing “You know, I hate sharing Bael right? Why are you holding them so close to you?” Before Beelzebub could continue questioning Bael he smells the scent of blood.

“…What. Happened.” He asks his tone devoid of all emotion. You try to hide yourself in Bael’s arms even more, you really did not want to face Beelzebub. He swiftly grabs you out of Bael’s embrace and his eyes widen at the sight of your arms and Bael’s bloodied suit. A bunch of questions traversed his mind at the same time which caused his train of thought to crash. But he quickly regained control and looked at Bael who nodded.

You don’t know how this happened but to treat you they ended licking you’re bloody arms and then disinfecting it and bandaging you up and after that Beelzebub stayed with you for the rest of the day with a bunch of snacks and blankets so you could relax and have those dark thoughts leave you while Bael who still had work to do, visited you two.

Leviathan :

He had walked in on you and immediately hanged you. You dropped the piece of glass you were holding instantly. After he made sure you didn’t have anything else to hurt you he stopped hanging and called his subordinates to take care of you.

But just because he let others take care of you wasn’t because he wasn’t worried and just found it bothersome, he is extremely worried sick and trying to understand why you would do that, was it because Hades wasn’t to your liking? Was he too harsh on you? Did a demon from Hades talk shit to you? He didn’t know which was it but it drove him nuts. He wished he could know what caused this but you would never tell him. So the least he could do was give you care and put you in a room without ANYTHING that could potentially be used for self harm bring you food and come visit you until you are ready to spill the beans.

He knocked three times on the door before entering bringing a plate of food:

“Here you go. I brought you some warm food. Since humans can’t go too long without food.”

He rolls his eyes. Shit he really didn’t mean to act like that. He clears his throat. “How much are you planning to keep me here?” You asked him not even looking up at the food plate.

He stayed silent he was going to keep you until you were going to talk to him. You sighed and just reached an arm for the food plate, he dodged your arm and sits down on a nearby chair :

“I’ll feed you.”

You look at Leviathan in disbelief…he would feed you?? That was actually nice he took care of you and was way more gentle than any other times he took care of you until your wounds recovered.

(Softie Levi???)

Lucifer :

The moment you came out of the room he was standing there with his arms crossed on his chest, eyebrow furrowed.

You looked away and dodged him since you did everything correctly you washed your arms and put some cream on to stop the bleeding and after put a few pieces of wet paper on them before rolling you’re sleeves back down.

“Show me your arms.” He said and it felt like you had lost control over your body and started unfurling your arms. He stared at it and sighed, before healing you.

Then he pulled you closer into a soft hug, where he rubbed your back.

“Tell me what happened.” You started to explain against your own will everything.

He pulled you closer and gently kissed you, still comforting you. You started sobbing again in his embrace holding him close.

Belphegor / Beleth :

It was beleth who caught you. He put down his cigarettes and started bandaging you up, while comforting you like an older brother would.

It was until Belphegor had woken up from his 10 hour long nap and saw Beleth accompany you outside of the room he wanted to call out but it was troublesome but he also wanted his pillow with him, so he called Beleth’s phone.

Beleth picked up and apologized, he explained to his king that you two had to be apart for a few days because of certain circumstances.

Belphegor yawned at that he really didn’t want to but he rolled his dice and it went on an even number so he got up to see what you two were up too.

You weren’t really far, at all actually just a few rooms down the hall. He entered the room and noticed saw you sobbing in Beleth’s arms, which kinda pissed him off seeing you into the arms of his babysi— I mean right hand man until Beleth noticed his king he hid you a bit more, knowing you probably did not want anyone else see you in this state and put a few blankets on you.

Belphegor walked over leisurely and was about to plop himself down on the bed when Beleth catches him. “Sorry yer Highness, but they want to be alone.”

Belphegor gave him a wide eyed glare

“ ‘xcuse me?” He didn’t want to be away from on of his best pillow and he also went through the trouble of getting up. Just to be refused like this? Your trembling voice echoed out “Belphegor, Beleth..please leave…”

“Wait I gotta take away whatever could hurt ya” Beleth carries Belphegor on his shoulder and grabs a few more sharp stuff in the room.

“Well let ya be now, please take care ’ll come back and give ya some food.”

You nod and look at Belphegor who doesn’t understand shit.

You mutter a ‘sorry’ as the two men leaves.

Outside of the room Beleth explained the situation to Belphegor as he sighed, he walked back into the room and finally put himself next to you grabbing you by the hips and bringing you closer to him, you look at him dumbfounded

“Belphegor…please I’m okay, you can go back to sleep-“

He shushes you by licking your neck.

“Shut it, I’m only here cause you suddenly left my side and you’re my best pillow.”

You blinked a few times before sighing, noticing Beleth entering the room again as Belphegor drifts off to sleep, holding you close it felt weirdly comforting.

Beleth smiled and lighted up another cigarette after leaving the room :

“Ya truly are a weird one, ‘yer majesty”

A/N : Hey hey hey!! Hope you guys enjoyed it, and if you are struggling with S/H, please talk to a professional able to help you but also know that I have faith in you, I know you’ll be able to stop this addiction even you fail to keep sober a few times you will succeed in staying sober for a lifetime!

Lots of love <3

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 13 - Heroes and Villains

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.4k words. Eh... Anything I write here would spoil the chapter. Just enjoy.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (scenting, scuffing), descriptions of torture, panic attacks, blood, descriptions of injuries, medical inaccuracies, pregnancy, death, use of weapons, murder, cannon typical violence, ALOT of crying, can never have enough hurt/comfort, dissociation.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake to a ringing in your ears. There's so much noise, so many smells. You peel your eyes open, your head is throbbing. Vision blurry as you’re laid on the cold floor.

Pain, so much pain. 

Your neck throbs, the back and the side, you bring your hand up your fingers touching where the pain is. It’s wet, warm and wet, you bring your hand up to your fuzzy vision. 

You’re bleeding, your fingers covered in fresh warm blood. Panic sets in, your adrenaline spikes giving you a moment of clarity, you're bleeding from the side of your neck. There's a deep gash. You press your hand up against it, blood drips between your fingers. 

Pain radiates through your body as you press on the wound causing black spots to flash across your vision. You can’t pass out, you don’t know how much blood you’ve lost. 

You force yourself to your feet. Your head spins and you fall against a cupboard knocking a tray of something on the floor. A fiery pain shoots through your stomach. You press your hand to your side, you can feel your shirt soaked.

More blood, your hand turned crimson red and you try to stand up again. You manage to steady yourself reaching out for the door handle. You push yourself against the door using all the strength you have to open it.

You slip falling to the ground, your blooded hand slipping slaming your face into the floor. You can hear movement, someone is below you. You can’t smell anything as you struggle to pull yourself to your feet, you’re crawling as blood runs down your body. 

You make it to the top of the stairs, reaching out you grip onto the stair railing, forcing your body to pull itself up. You let out a moan of pain, gritting your teeth. Your free hand going to your side. The bleeding there is worse, a deeper cut, more blood, more pain. 

“Piper?” It’s a male voice, calling for Dr. Piper. You try to call out but the words catch in your throat. Your head is spinning you can’t tell where the steps start and end. You’re leaning against the banister, your body starts to shake. You almost want to throw yourself down. Into the hands of whoever is waiting downstairs. Then a figure comes into your view as you go to take your first step. 

It’s Simon. His eyes meet yours, then in an instant he’s striding up the stairs as you struggle to stay standing gripped onto the banister. His arms wrap around you, scooping you up against his chest. 

You must have blacked out for a second because when you come too he’s already out of the lab. The cold air stings your skin, the rain feels like ice hitting your fevered body. You start feeling dizzy, you can feel blood running down your side, your back.  

Your wounds should be healing by now, why are they not healing? Maybe you’ve lost too much blood and your body cannot repair itself? Maybe it’s because you're pregnant? Simon crashes through another set of doors. 

“Get Price!” You hear him shout so loud it has your ears ringing as he lowers you to the floor. You hear other voices now. 

“Holy fuck!” 

“What happened!?” You’re barely clinging on to consciousness. There’s another figure looking over you as someone's hands press against your neck. Someone lifts up your shirt. Hands press on your side. 

Pain that’s all it is, you don’t even have the energy to even cry out. You look up at the figure pressing their hands on your side. 

“Kyle?” Is all you manage to get out before you slip away again. 

…

Price is out of his office before Johnny even makes it to his door. As he turns the corner it’s like his heart stops for a second. You’re sprawled out on the floor, Kyle and Simon bent over you. He can smell the blood in the air before he sees it. 

Then when Kyle gets up to run past him to the bedrooms he sees just how much. Your eyes are closed with Simon's hands pressed against your neck. All he can hear is the loud thumping of his heart in his ears. You’re injured, bleeding and unconscious. His hands ball into fists as he watches blood seep onto the wooden floorboards. 

Something burns inside him, something he has never felt before. He feels a lump form in his throat swallowing hard to get it to go away. Kyle races past him again with a medical pouch in his hands. What the hell happened? Then he hears it.

“John!” He snaps out of his haze, his eyes flicking to Simon. He hasn’t used his name like that in years. He looks round the room, adrenaline kicking in. 

“Soap, go find a medic. Graves has to have one somewhere.” He says walking over to you. He doesn’t wait to hear him say ‘yes sir’ he just hears the door closing as he rushes out. Gaz makes room pressing bandages into Ghost's hands. 

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know, I found her like this in the lab.” 

“Where’s Dr. Montgomery?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t check but she was alone when I found her.” Price looks over your figure pale, covered in blood as Gaz cuts your shirt away. 

“What can I do?” He asks bending down by your head, he’s not sure what to do, he almost wants to shake you awake. Every fiber of his body is screaming at him to do something, to take you in his arms and not let anyone touch you. That won’t do you any good though, he needs to let them work.

“We got this.” Ghost says his voice level, commanding Price sees the determination in his eyes. Ghost’s in control of the situation, he stands up feeling helpless watching as your bleeding soaks through the bandages. Your wounds should be healing, why are your wounds not healing? 

It feels like time is ticking on for hours. Your body is being moved in such an unnatural way. They’re trying their best. What if it’s not enough? He’s not registering Ghost’s voice as he talks to Gaz. 

Keep it together.  

“What have you got?” Price asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Looks like clean cuts, surgical. One to her neck the other to her side.” Ghost says.

“Why aren’t her wounds healing?” He asks. There’s silence.

“Maybe she’s lost too much blood?” Gaz suggests. That makes his stomach twist. Price is waiting, watching as Gaz and Ghost try to keep your bleeding under control. Ghost’s swearing under his breath, his eyes moving all over your body. A few seconds later Soap comes back in with someone, crashing through the doors with a random shadow.

Price steps back as the stranger bends down next to your head, pulling on gloves. Price’s heart feels like it’s going to explode out his chest. Soap comes over and puts his hand on Price’s shoulder. He watches as the medic calls for more people. For a stretcher. He feels useless, just standing there watching. 

It’s not long before more people are rushing in, a gurney being wheeled over. Ghost and Gaz stand out the way letting the others take over. Ghost has blood on his shirt, his hands and arms crimson. Price watches as you’re moved up onto the gurney, your body limp, unmoving covered in blood. Price takes a step forward. 

“Soap, with me, you two stay here get cleaned up.” 

“I want to come.” Ghost says. Price looks over at him, his demeanor changed, he looks ready for a fight. A fight with whoever did this to you. Why didn’t they kill you? He has to defuse Ghost first before he goes tearing the base up.

“You’re covered in blood, get yourself cleaned up first.” Price says, he’s not in the mood to argue as he watches you being taken through the door.

“What about Dr. Montgomery?” Ghost asks. Shit . He’d forgotten about her. 

“Search the lab. We’ll all meet in the infirmary.” Price says. He walks out the door following the team of people wheeling you towards the main building. He just wants to be near you. He wants to see you wake up.

It’s like things are moving into slow motion. You’re pushed through sets of doors eventually ending up in the infirmary. There are more people now, people in scrubs. They’re cutting your clothes off, hooking up wires and tubes. 

“What happened?” Someone asks him, his eyes flicking someone in scrubs turning to him. 

“I don’t know, she was found like that.” 

“Do you know if she has any allergies or anything?” 

“She’s pregnant.” Price says, some of the people look up in surprise. They look at the woman in scrubs before turning their attention back to you. Soap’s stood by his side watching the same thing. You’re so pale as they hook things up. More people rush in. 

Eventually him and Soap are ushered out of the room. They stand behind the glass window looking in. 

“She’s going to be okay.” Soap says. Price can tell that's mainly for his own piece of mind. He can hear the tremble in his voice, he can smell his fear in the air. It feels like they’re waiting forever before someone comes out to talk to them.

The medic seems confused about you as he explains what’s happened. They’re stitching up the wounds then they can go in and see you. Almost as soon as he’s done Ghost and Gaz burst through the door. Ghost still has blood all over him. He hands a letter to Price. 

Price frowns at him looking at the envelope with ‘ Captain Price’ written on it. He takes it in his hand. There’s something inside. He opens it as everyone's eyes seem to be digging into him. There is a USB in the envelope and a letter. He takes them both out scanning over it. It's from Dr. Montgomery.

It starts with an apology, then it explains what happened. Dr. Ashford had been to see her threatening her with killing the omega if she didn’t hand you over, back to Hale. He had planted a tracker in your neck and a bomb in your hip. 

That's what the wounds were she cut them out. Price lets out a long sigh as he continues to read. Shadow Company was being part funded by the professor, it was Dr. Ashford who planted the hidden cameras for Hale. She’s going to trick them to buy him time, she took the tracker to make it look more realistic. She left the bomb in the medical room. 

The USB contains all her research, so they can find someone to continue the search for a cure. 

‘Don’t come for me, I will likely be dead anyway. Take the omega, keep her safe. Enjoy your vacation.’

Price looks over at you in the bed. Anger bubbles inside him, they’ve let you down, the corruption runs deep. Dr. Montgomery is right, they have to leave. It’s no longer safe. 

“What’s it say?” Soap is the first to ask. 

“Soap, in the lab there’s a bomb. It used to be in her hip, go with Gaz, find it and destroy it.” Soap goes to speak but Price holds his hand up, cutting him off. He steps up to Ghost, he lets out a sigh. He needs to be near you, someone always needs to be near you. 

“Take this, get Laswell. Do not talk to anyone.”  He hands Ghost the letter and USB before turning to look round at Soap and Gaz. “In fact no one talks to anyone about what has happened without my permission.” Everyone nods. 

“From now on someone will be with her 24/7, until we can get out of here.” 

“We’re leaving? What about Dr. Montgomery?” Gaz asks.

“She’s buying us time. I’ll explain later.” He stops talking as the nurse walks out the room nodding and smiling at them. He waits until she has gone through the doors at the end of the corridor. 

“Where are we going?” Ghost asks.

“On holiday.” 

Piper is sitting at the broken sign, she followed the instructions not wanting to draw suspicion. Ashford was right, she was allowed straight out the base, no questions asked. Ashford opens the driver door, smiling at her as he jumps in. 

“Good morning.” He says getting in and closing the door. “I knew you would make it.” Piper doesn’t say anything, she watches him start the engine. 

“What did you do? Knock her out?” He asks as he starts to drive. She sighs she doesn't want to talk to him, but she doesn’t want him to get suspicious. 

“Scruffed her.” She says looking at him. He still has a smile on her face, it makes her feel sick. 

“Good choice.” He says. “She'll be out for a while then.” She sighs again. She thinks back to her plan, her stupid plan. She cut the tracker and bomb out. Left the bomb in the room but took the tracker. It’s in the back of the empty truck. 

It’s a death sentence, she knows that. You’ll be safe and that’s all that matters. 

“Excited about seeing Professor Hale again? I know he’s excited to see you.” She can hear the snickering in his voice. He’s going to look forward to watching her die. She’s looking forward to seeing the shock on his face when he realizes there’s nothing in the trunk. 

He didn't check the trunk. It makes her smile, she hides it with her hand turning to look out the window. 

Hopefully this will buy John enough time to flee, take the omega to Scotland, or wherever John thinks it’s safe. He doesn’t need to worry about her anymore. She left the note and the USB with all her research on it. They’ll be able to find another scientist to continue her work if they want. She looks over at Ashford, the grin still on his face. She ‘s trying hard not to fidget, she knows she's heading to her execution. 

After all the times she’s let you down it’s a fitting end. You’re safe, that's all that matters. She keeps reminding herself of the bigger picture. You’re surrounded by people who are trained to kill and who’s instincts will protect you to the bitter end. You’re safer then you ever could be. 

The truck turns onto the highway, they’ll be in Seattle soon. She had no idea Hale had property in Seattle. They should have gone somewhere else, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Hale still would have planted Ashford, he would have still been infiltrating them. 

The rest of the drive goes in silence, thankfully Piper likes that. She’s not exactly in the mood for talking with Dr. Ashford. It feels weird being back in a city, after spending so long at the base surrounded by forests was a nice change. She thinks about you again, you like nature, probably because you’ve been kept from it for so long.

She knows you’ll like Scotland, from what John and Johnny had told her about the house it was perfect for you. Surrounded by fields, speckled with woodland and a loch. A perfect place for you to relax with your pack. They’ll take care of you, she knows that, she wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t trust them. John and Simon are strong alphas. 

She smiles as she thinks of Simon. She really enjoyed their talks together even if she was doing it for John in the beginning. She came to look forward to them. If he ever comes out of his shell he’ll make a good alpha for you too. Johnny and Kyle were good beta’s they’ll do a good job taking care of the pack. They are already naturals, from what she’s seen she has no doubt they'll take great care of you. 

You deserve a strong pack, a good life. You deserve to be free from Hale. John will take care of you. They're all good people.

The drive takes another hour before they end up turned into a dock. The place looks abandoned as Dr. Ashford drives across to some rusting shipping containers. She sees a blacked out SUV, the professors. This is it, this is the end. Dr. Ashford turns off the engine getting out of the truck.

Piper waits until she sees Hale getting out of the car. Hale starts walking over to them. It’s taking all her energy to hide her scent. She’s nervous now, this is it. As soon as they see the truck is empty, she just hopes it will be quick. She tries to keep it together as he walks up to her. 

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Montgomery. I knew you would be a big help.” He says, extending his hand out. She ignores it. He huffs, shrugging as he walks round the back of the truck. Piper stands back as Ashford opens the back. 

She’s holding her breath. She looks over at the blanket, the only thing in there is the tracker. She looks over at Ashfords shocked face. She can smell his fear in the air. His head snaps up to Hale as he starts to protest. Hale puts his hand up stopping him. 

She smiles, she does like the look on his face.

“You didn’t check the truck.” Hale sighs, he sounds disappointed. Ashford opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. He looks over at Piper, his eyes wide the horror of what's happened sinking in. 

Hale sighs again, he takes his pistol off his hip, there’s a few seconds as he runs his fingers over the barrel then brings it up and shoots Ashford point blank in the head. 

It happens quickly, so quickly that Piper’s not even sure it really happened until she sees his body fall to the floor. Her hand flys to her mouth. Her fear is strong in the air now, eyes wide as Hale steps up to her. He presses the barrel of the gun on her forehead. It’s hot, burning her skin, she’s trying not to wince, holding her breath.

This is it, this is how she’s going to die. She closes her eyes, she wants her last thought to be of you, surrounded by your pack, safe. 

“ Fuck .” Hale says the gun leaves your forehead. She opens her eyes, his back is facing her, she can see him shaking his head. Her hand goes up to rub the back of her neck. She’s alive.

“Unfortunately you’re still useful to me.” He spits, his voice is harsh in the air. She looks down at the body on the floor, blood pooling out his head. Her heart is thumping so hard in her chest, her legs shaking, she feels like she’s about to pass out. 

“Fucking usless!” Hale shouts, kicking the tire on the truck. She’s still convinced he’s going to kill her. What does he mean she’s still useful? He strides over to her pressing the gun against her head as he drags her over to his car. He reaches down, opening the trunk.

“Get in.” He orders. 

“Why not just kill me?” She asks, nerves slipping through making her voice crack. 

“Because I still don’t have the omega. Now get in the fucking truck!” His voice is almost a growl, his alpha thick in the air making goosebumps rise on her neck. She uses all her energy to ignore the command. Everything in her body screams for her to follow the order. 

A growl raises in his throat as his hand comes up to the back of her neck. He’s too quick for her and his hand rests round her neck. He’s not squeezing though, Piper looks in his eyes and he looks angry. She grits her teeth as he squeezes, black spots flash in her vision as she keels over. 

Pain radiates down her spine, her body hitting the back of the car as Hale forces her in slamming the trunk door behind her . As soon as his hand is off her neck she catches her breath. She rubs the back off her neck sucking in breaths trying to stop her head from spinning. She feels the driver door being closed as Hale gets into the car and starts driving. 

She lets herself have a moment to panic in the dark of the trunk. Maybe Hale just wants to take her somewhere else to kill her. Or worse, use her to get to the omega. No, she’ll die before she lets that happen. 

You open your eyes to brightness. The sky is dull, full of swollen gray clouds and bright yellow sunlight forcing itself through. The tops of the pine trees are swaying in the wind. It remains of your rescue, the first thing you remembered was the sunlight, the open sky. 

It's not the same though there's a dread pulling you back to reality. Then there's the pain. So much pain.

Everything hurts, your body throbbing as you try to orient yourself. You turn your head, stretching your neck hurts, you cry out in pain squeezing your eyes closed. You feel someone grab your hand. You look round, opening your eyes to see Johnny. He smiles at you squeezing your hand. 

“Dr. Piper.” You croak your throat dry, sore. There is no one else in the room. Where is John? Where is Dr. Piper?

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Johnny says standing up stroking your hair. His hand is warm on your head. You can smell him projecting his scent on you. He’s trying to keep you calm. 

“Where is she?” You ask looking round the room, each movement of your head hurts. She should be here, panic rises in you and you sit up in bed. Your head spins as pain radiates down your spine. You wince as your hand flies up to the back of your neck. It’s raw your hand pulls away, it feels like you’ve been burned. You were scuffed, she scuffed you. You whine in pain as you force yourself to assess the damage around your body.

Johnny keeps a tight hold of your hand, his other hand supporting your back. There are wires coming off your chest. A tube in your nose blowing cold air, There are thick bandages, one on the side of your neck the other on your hip. You look over at Johnny, tears in your eyes as you look round his face. He looks sad. 

“Lay down, you need to rest, you were injured.” He says, his hand on your shoulder gently pressing you down. You’re not listening though you need to see her. Tears roll down your face, you can’t tell if it’s the pain or sadness. 

“Where is she?” You ask looking up at Johnny, despite for answers. His scent is strong in the air, he’s really trying to calm you. It’s not helping, the smell of beta just makes you feel sick, you want Dr. Piper.

“Don’t worry about it, you need to take it easy,” he says, squeezing your hand. You don’t want to, you want to know where she is. What happened? Why did she scuff you, why were you bleeding? 

“What happened?” You ask, the tears are coming fast. 

“Simon found you in the lab, do you remember what happened?” Johnny asks. 

“Dr. Piper, she scruffed me. She was doing a scan. I can’t remember what it was called.” You say. You’re trying to hold the sobs back. Johnny nods, he squeezes your hand again, shuffling closer to the bed. 

“An ultrasound, she cut out the bomb and the tracker.” He says. You’re holding your breath.

“What bomb? What Tracker?” You ask, worry washes over you. There was a tracker in you. Never mind that a bomb? Johnny seems to see the confusion on your face. 

“Dr. Ashford, he planted a tracker in you, and a bomb. Dr. Montgomery cut them out. That’s what your injuries are.”  You’re listening to his explanation but it doesn’t sound real.

“Where is she?” You ask, maybe she got into trouble. Maybe John is punishing her for hurting you. 

“We don’t know where she is.” He sounds sad as he squeezes your hand again. Panic rises in you. You’re sucking in breaths of air. What if she’s hurt? What if they can never find her? What does he mean they don’t know where she is? 

What if you never see her again? What if she’s betrayed you? Your heart aches, you just want to see her.

“Relax lass, c’mon deep breaths,” Johnny says standing up. You don’t know what to do, you’re in too much pain. Everything burns as your eyes well up with water making Johnny look fuzzy. His hand lands on your chest as you force yourself to suck in breaths of air. Even with fresh oxygen being blown into your nose it feels like you can’t get a proper lungfull. 

She’s gone. She hurt you and she’s gone. Your head is swimming as you calm down, Johnny’s hands warm stroking your hair, dabbing the tears out your eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there keeping you calm. 

“Where’s John?” You ask, although it comes out more like a whisper.

“He’s busy, they’re trying to find her.” Johnny says. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her.” 

You let yourself cry, you let the tears come as Johnny hushes you, stroking your hair and wiping your tears. It’s not okay, it’s never going to be okay again. You close your eyes. 

Price is standing against the wall in Shepherds office, Kate is sat at the desk. Price and Ghost cleared the room, one bug just a microphone hidden under the desk. Ghost is standing on the other side of the door waiting for Shepherd. 

Price’s anger had been building since he saw you laid injured on the floor in the barracks. Soap had been giving him updates almost every half hour on the dot. He hasn’t been able to see you since you woke up, you’ve been asking for Dr. Piper which just makes his heart ache more. Your wounds still haven’t started healing themselves. 

Dr. Montgomary did the right thing, she’s buying them time. They could flee, go to Scotland but she has always been right. You will never be safe until Hale is dead. 

The door handle clicks and Shepherd walks in looking confused as Ghost comes in behind him.

“I thought the meeting was scheduled for 11?” He says going round to sit in his chair. 

“The situation has changed.” Price says throwing the microphone on his desk. Shepherd picks it up looking over it frowning before looking back up at Price. 

“Don’t worry, it was the only one we found.” Price says.

“Your computers clear too.” Laswell follows up. 

“What do you want?” Shepherd asks, leaning back in his chair.

“I want to know why you didn’t tell us Professor Hale was paying Shadow Company.” Price asks, crossing his arms. Shepherd sighs.

“ Partially funding them, the DOD is funding the rest. They’re not going to say no to being able to fund an entire base for half the price.” Shepherd says. 

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t been talking about anything important here.” Price says. Shepherd sighs, he seems irritated. 

“Is that all you want? Me to apologise for not telling you about Shadow Company?” He asks. 

“No, we need you to sign off on a mission.” Price says as Laswell hands him the file she made up. Shepherd takes it, opening it, Price watches as he scans over it. He looks up at him before shaking his head. 

“Kill Professor Hale. I can’t sign off on that and you know that captain.” Shepherd puts the folder down. 

“He has Dr. Montgomery.” Price says. If she’s still alive.

“Not my problem, did he kidnap her? You have no reason to go after him. The DOD wants this project to continue. She just is not a priority.” Shepherd explains. 

“We’re going after him regardless, it just depends on how much red tape we rip through.” Price says.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you captain. Going after him will make you an enemy of the state. Disobeying orders, killing an innocent man-” Ghost scoffs. Price looks over at him, his eyes focused on Shepherd.

“It will cost you your jobs. Dishonorable discharge, if you’re lucky.” He says annoyance rising in his voice. 

“Your choice.” John says shrugging. There’s silence while Shepherd stares him down. They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Shepherd looks over and Ghost opens the door moving to the side. It’s a random soldier, no one Price recognises. 

“Sorry to bother you sir. Commander Graves would like to see you in the conference room.” The man looks round at all the people in the room. “He says it’s urgent.” Shepherd sighs, getting up. Laswell picks up the folder and they all follow him out the room. There is tension in the air as they walk the short distance. Price can tell Shepherd would rather not be dealing with this right now. 

When they get into the room Graves stands up he looks over everyone piling in.

“Well look at that, the whole gang's here, maybe you can help explain this.” Graves says going over to the laptop hooked up to the projector and pressing play. Price watches as the screen fades from black to show Dr. Montgomery. She’s tied up to a chair, her head slumped forward, blood running down her face, her clothes stained red.

Professor Hale steps into frame. He walks up next to her pulling her head up by her hair. 

“I have an offer for you. One I don’t think you’ll want to refuse. The omega for the cure.” Price’s stomach sinks. This was what he was afraid of. In some ways it’s easier if she was dead. Now she’s a bargaining chip, now there’s a chance they can save her. Ghost walks up to Price he can smell his anger in the air. 

“Get Gaz, tell Soap to keep the omega away.” Price says. Ghost nods and leaves the room. He steps up to Shepherd.

“Want to rethink that mission now?” Price asks.

When you wake the sun is setting, the lights had been set low. It really is like the first time you were rescued. Your body still hurts, your wounds still are not healing. Clearly it’s not a blood problem, it must be because of the pregnancy. 

You don’t want to be here, you want to be back in the barracks, in your nest. You start taking off all the wires and tubes. You swing your legs out the bed, the room is cold, there's a thin pair of slippers by the bed that you pull on. 

You’re surprised no one is with you but you don’t mind, if John or anyone was here they would most likely make you stay in the hospital which is the last thing you want. You’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, you don’t care you can change when you get back in the barracks. 

You’re not quite sure where you are, you assume you’re in the main building, you follow the signs to the exit hoping you’ll be on the right side of the base. There’s no one around the whole place feels like a ghost town, 

You’re walking down a corridor when you can see light spilling out through a room window. You walk up to it looking in everyone's there, even Kate and Graves, Johnny is missing. Maybe he was the one supposed to be keeping an eye on you. They’re looking at a video on a projector. Your breath catches in your throat when you see what it is. 

It’s the professor and Dr. Piper. Your hand goes over your mouth, the tears come. She’s bloody, head slumped over in the chair with her arms tied down. You press the door open slightly so you can hear the audio. 

You focus on containing your scent, you don’t want them to know you’re there. 

“All I want is the omega. Simple swap, bring me the omega and you can have Dr. Montgomery, alive.” The professor's voice comes through. The speakers, the camera gets zoomed in on Dr. Piper. You hold the gasp in your throat. 

He’s bleeding her, making sure her body loses just enough blood so she can’t heal her wounds. The Professor did that to you a few times before. Mainly to see how long you could last. 

You know she’ll be in pain, you know he’ll make sure she’s in pain.

“Tell them what happened to Dr. Ashford.” Professor Hale says as he comes into the camera view and presses a pistol to her head. She can barely keep her head up as he pulls on her hair. She looks at him without saying a word.  

“Well, he’s dead. I am getting pretty sick of killing off all the useful people.” He says letting her head fall back down. You can smell anger in the air. Heads turn to look over at Shepherd. The video gets paused. 

“Sending her back would be a death sentence.” John says. Before anyone gets a chance to say anything.

“We didn’t know Professor Hale would go this far but this project is still very much a secret. There are no protections promised, especially for the omega. Technically she doesn’t even exist.” Shepherd says.

“What are you implying?” Simon asks, his presence is the most intimidating in the room.

“I’m implying you don’t want to do anything rash.” Shepherd says. There's silence in the room again, the tension is heavy in the air. For a few seconds you think they’re going to spot you peeking through the door. Instead everyone seems to go back to their previous positions. The video stands up again. 

It makes you feel sick, seeing Dr. Piper so beat up, she’s always been so put together, the lipstick and the glasses. She’s a doctor, a scientist. 

“We’ll make the trade at the attached address. Give us the omega, we’ll give you the cure." Professor Hale’s voice is harsh in the air. You can see how labored Dr. Piper’s breaths are. You want to open the door, barge in and tell them to save her. 

Who would that help? You? It’s your fault she’s in that position.

It should be you, not her. 

The video ends. The screen frozen on an image of Dr. Piper, her head slumped forward, blood running down her face. There's silence in the room.

You feel sick. Adrenaline pumps through you. Your eyes are filling with water, you can’t believe this. A sob leaves your throat, you can’t control your scent anymore.  Heads turn to see you, nostrils flaring, people getting up out of chairs. 

You turn, you run. 

Your body throbs, the pain in your neck and side burning. You hear people calling after you, you ignore them. You can’t believe what you’ve seen. Dr. Piper's blooded face, her pained words, the gun held at her head.

You can’t keep running. It's too painful you trip, your body slamming painfully against the floor. You don’t have the energy to move, you just sob, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

Your sobs become screams as the images of her being tortured the same way you were filling your mind. It’s your fault, she gave her life for you. 

Someone kneels down beside you trying to move you. You fight them, you don’t want anyone to touch you. You scream out at whoever it is, you scratch them and they back off. Your breathing becomes pants, it feels like someone is sitting on your chest. There are voices all around you, more hands trying to move you. You tense your body trying to make yourself as heavy as possible. 

It takes too much energy though and you relent your body going limp. Someone's hand rubs your back.

“Take it easy lass.” Johnny's voice. You shake your head, you can’t. You just put your head in your hands letting yourself sob. You’re getting lightheaded, hyperventilating as people talk around you. There are raised voices, heavy footsteps. 

Someone scoops you up in their arms. You squirm using all the energy you have. You try to push against the chest of whoever is picking you up but they’re too strong, their arms wrapped tightly around you shushing you. 

“Just leave me alone.” You sob your throat raw, your wounds pulsing. Maybe you’ve torn stitches, maybe you’ll bleed out. 

You can smell alpha, it’s John you’re in his arms, he's shushing you. You don’t care, nothing he can say, nothing he can do will make it better. He doesn’t say anything though. He carries you in silence all the way back to the barracks. 

By the time you get in your sobs have become sniffles. He takes you into his room putting you down on the bed pulling the covers over you. You expect him to leave, leave you to sob your heart out until you’re exhausted. 

He doesn’t though, he gets into bed behind you wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up against his chest. There's no words, no pressure to talk, he just holds you. You can feel his breathing, hear his heart beating. 

“He’s going to kill her.” You say after a while, your voice almost a whisper. More tears spill out. 

“You need to do the trade.” You say. He squeezes you tighter.

“Over my dead body.” He says. 

“He’s going to kill her.” You repeat. You don’t want her to die. 

“We’ll get her back, she’s not going to die.”  He says. You close your eyes. You want to believe him, you trust him. If they thought they could save her, why haven’t they left yet? You can’t keep your eyes closed for long. Images of Dr. Piper being tortured plague your mind.

“John, will you kill him, Professor Hale?” You expect a no, a ‘only if necessary.’

“We’ll kill him, and we’re going to get her back. I promise.” 

You don’t remember falling asleep, you remember changing clothes. You remember John leaving and Johnny trying to get you to eat. John said you're not to be alone, or leave the barracks. When Johnny realised you weren't going to eat he let you go back to bed. 

You sleep in John's room, you want to feel near him. When you wake Kyle is in the bed with you. You can see light coming through the bottom of the curtains, it could be the flood lights though.

Kyle is still sleeping, his mouth open drooling on John’s pillows. You want to reach out and touch him. At the same time you don’t want to disturb him.

You enjoy the few blissful minutes forgetting about Dr. Piper, ignoring your pain, just watching Kyle sleeping peacefully. 

The pain hits you first, the back of your neck is still raw. Your wounds are still not healing, thick bandages cover the stitches. 

The tears come, you didn’t think you could cry more but it’s becoming a constant stream of sobbing. You didn’t think you could produce more tears, your eyes and cheeks still sore from yesterday. Kyle’s calming scent is strong in the air but it’s not helping. 

You feel sick, empty. You’re here and Dr. Piper’s being tortured, you know what the professor likes to do, you know she’s going to be in pain. The images make your stomach jump. You can’t just lie here, you want to do something. 

You prop yourself up on your arm, Kyle stirs in bed his eyes blinking open as he looks at you. You sit up swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. There’s a chill in the air. 

“You okay?” Kyle asks. You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything. You get up leaving the room. You can hear hushed voices in the common room, you ignore them going towards your room. Dr. Piper's door is open. You close your eyes breathing in her scent still strong in the air. You press the door open further, her clothes are still laid out. Her shoes by her bed. There's a book and glasses on the bedside table. 

You walk in, running your hand over her desk, stacked with papers, her laptop still open but off. She has a big window in her room too but the blinds are down. You go over to it pulling them open. It’s light out, you can’t see the sun but the sky is clear. You open the window, it only opens a few centimeters just like yours. 

Her scent is drowned out by the rush of fresh air. You look over at her bed, the covers thrown back. 

She should be here. It should be you with the professor. 

Your lip trembles as you press your hand against the glass. You let out the sob that’s been building up in your throat. There’s a pain in your chest now, an ache you’ve never had before. Your hand lands on your heart, it’s like it’s being ripped out your chest. 

Your legs give way and you fall to your knees pressing your head on the wall. You miss her, you miss her so much it hurts. You thought you’d lost her once. Now she’s gone again. You breathe in the fresh air, it’s not helping. Your whole body hurts. You deserve the pain. 

Your low sobs become cries again. You howl and cry until you’re exhausted, your whole body is shaking your head spinning with pain. You deserve this. 

You can’t do this. It hurts too much, you close your eyes. You lay down pulling your legs to your chest, each breath stings your lungs, each beat of your heart makes your wounds throb. 

Someone steps up behind you, a blanket is lowered over you. 

“Leave me alone.” You say, you don’t want anyone near you other than Dr. Piper. They should be trying to rescue her instead of being here. You’re mad at them, why aren’t they trying to rescue her. It’s Johnny who sits down behind you. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even touch you. He just sits there projecting a calming scent over you. You want to tell him to stop, it’s not helping anyway. 

“If you were going to save her you would have left already.” You say, your voice is low, raw from all the sobbing. 

“We’re leaving tonight.” He says. You don’t believe him. “We had to wait for a few things to fall into place.” You want to turn to look at him but you can’t. Fresh tears come now, you shiver as you pull your legs closer to your chest. 

You can’t do this any more. 

When you were in the bunker and the professor was hurting you you could go to a place in your mind to get away from it all. The house on the hill with the pies. The warm summer evening, the sound of the lake. Your mother looking through the window as you played in the garden. It’s not your mother you see anymore it’s Dr. Piper. 

This is it, it's what you need, you need to go back to that place in your mind. 

The house on the hill, the pies, warm summer evening. The sound of the lake as you play in the garden. The sun is setting. You replay it over in your mind. You can smell the cinnamon, the caramelized sugar. The breeze, the birds. 

“The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening.” You whisper under your breath squeezing the blanket. 

“What’s that love?” Johnny asks, leaning over you. You ignore him repeating the mantra.

“The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening.” Johnny’s hand rests on your shoulder. He strokes the hair out your face. 

“The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening.” you close your eyes. You’re there in your mind, you block out everything else. You can smell it, feel the breeze, the grass between your toes. Dr. Piper is there too, safe, watching you through the window. 

You block it out, you block it all out, there’s no pack, there’s no pain. Dr. Piper is safe and she’s happy. You let the smell of cinnamon comfort you. This is what you need, a safe place you’ll stay here until she’s back. 

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren Send love to wren she needs it <3

[k9wa]

𑣲 EVERYTHING. ft. BLADE

⠀ — it’s easier to nurse your wounds in silence with a furrowed brow.

⠀ OR

⠀ — you get your ass beat bad enough for blade to be affectionate.

⚠︎ mentions & descriptions of injuries, blood, comfort, gn reader, awkward blade save me, self indulgent && finally out of the drafts.

“what happened to you?”

blade inquired, tone teetering on teasing as you trudged into your shared bedroom, head hung low as you walked on heavy, unstable legs. it looked as if someone had slipped iron into the soles of your shoes.

blade barely heard the muttered response you slur out as a bloodied hand reached out to hold the wall for support. he was on his feet in front of you in seconds, hands lightly finding their way to your waist to help hold you up straight. blade had to restrain himself from lifting you up by your underarms and shaking an explanation out of you once he noticed the smeared red hand print you left behind.

“...hey.”

his voice was quieter the second time around, bending at the knees a small bit so he could finally meet your cloudy eyes. it grabs your attention well enough, you finally looked up enough for him to see the scratches on your face alongside the sharp, clean cut going from your brow bone to cheek bone. he felt his palms sweat.

blade wasted no time in scooping you up and placing you down on your bed. he would worry of the blood soiled sheets after you were taken care of.

he pushed your hair behind your ears, giving him a final clear glimpse of your wounded face. despite his indifferent expression, stoic and blank as always, he nearly hissed.

you whine weakly and groan in pain as blade lifts your shirt up over your head, checking your torso for any more wounds. there was another sharp slash across the left of your ribcage, but it was— thankfully— rather shallow. a perfect example of you getting out of the way of someone’s sharpened steel at the very last second.

ren retrieved a wet cloth, dampened with cold water that he didn’t possess the patience to allow to warm up before sticking the fabric under the faucet. he cleaned the dried blood off your skin, actions precise and unimaginably gentle as he watched it flake and smudge away with the water.

you’re silent, one eye stuck shut as a result of your injury and the other fluttering in an attempt to stay open as you tiredly gaze up at him through your lashes. once you were finally relieved of the dirt and sweat sticking to you, ren moved to start wrapping thick, taught bandages where they were needed.

he didn’t pry right away, you were hurting. blade was no stranger to pain and the way it left a blinding fog over your senses, stripping you of any capabilities and leaving you with nothing but dreadful awareness of how terrible your bones ache and your flesh burns.

but truly, with each circle of the roll of cloth around your torso, went more fuel onto the flame of violence and vengeance deep inside blade’s gut, the fiery anger quickly overwhelming his consideration.

“what happened to you?”

ren repeated as he taped off the covering on your ribs. his tone was less taunting the second time around. he gets up from his knees and sits on the bed beside you, tilting your head up by your chin to assess the wound to your eye.

“doesn’t matter, believe it or not i won.” you replied lazily, good eye slowly making its way over his hardened features. his high cheekbones, sharp brow bone, his chiselled jaw. blade has half a mind to scoff.

“that’s not what i asked.” he grew more stern, lightly tugging your eyelid open to check if your cornea had withstood any damage.

ren listened as you half-heartedly recalled the events to him. a group of mara struck had stumbled upon you on your way back from a meeting with elio and kafka. you made your way out, but the injuries sustained were from when you had forgotten you often have to knock the mara struck down twice before they actually stay down. a silly slip up on your part.

blade finished wrapping a bandage around your eye and placing a few smaller ones on your scratches by the time you finished your explanation. his speed and familiarity with a roll of gauze made you question just how often he had done this to himself.

he didn’t respond as he grabbed you a clean shirt, picking up any garbage and tossing it out silently as he threw the soiled cloth in an empty cleaning bucket. you were curled up on the bed and fighting sleep when he returned just a minute later.

ren didn’t know what to say, exactly. the mara that had attacked you were good and dead, so he didn’t have to go after them and dirty his own hands once more as a “precaution” (he would not allow any being that harmed you in such a way keep it’s life—) yet he was never one for comfort. even after all the years he’d spent with you.

re-learning the humanizing emotions that had been cast from his soul once it was ripped and forced back into his body was proving to take more time than one might expect.

blade, after standing with your back to him almost awkwardly for a few moments, took a seat beside you again and placed his chin down on your shoulder. his thumb mindlessly moves to rub circles on your hip.

it’d be a lie to say seeing you hurt didn’t scare him. scare? terrify? shake him up? the synonyms weren’t relevant. blade continued to try and convince himself there was truly a difference between them.

being immortal had led him to forget what the limits of the human body might exactly be. he was surprised his brow didn’t furrow at the thought of your lesions being fatal as he cleaned and wrapped them.

you are everything. you are the last thing blade is able to call his own. you are the only thing blade truly feels he belongs to, and vice versa. you are everything.

“be more careful next time.” ren said quietly, lips against the skin of your arm as he kissed your shoulder. “please.”

you rolled over slowly, careful not to lay on your freshly cut side and pulled his hand up to your mouth, placing a kiss to his knuckles.

“i will. thank you.” you’re too tired for a witty response. blade nodded. he didn’t believe you, years of being left behind and the amount of bloodshed he’d witnessed did not allow him.

“get some sleep.”

he stood, shoulders straight and nearly tense as he walked away and picked up his weapon leaned against the wall. running through some of the drills his late master taught him was ought to lift the stress— the reminder that despite your strength you were but a fragile human— from his back. he did that often when he was beginning to feel overwhelmed or over-frustrated. it was routine, it was the same, it made sense to him.

“i love you.” you mumbled against your pillow, eyes already closed as sleep quickly consumed you.

“as do i.” blade said quietly, slipping outside.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[catcze]

You want some Wriothesley requests, eh? I’m more than happy to provide ;))

Wriothesley is a busy man, he’s the Lord of the fortress of Meropide for gods sake, so the last thing he needs is more distractions.

So I raise you this:

Reader hurts themselves on a commission or something, and instead of telling their boyfriend about it and bringing him even more things to worry about, they decide to treat their wounds themselves and hide their injuries from him entirely.

When Wriothesley inevitably finds out, he scolds them and tells them that their health is always his number one priority, and that he’s more than happy to leave his work behind to take care of them.

It’s safe to say that reader always informs their boyfriend of their injuries from that point onward.

AUGHHAKDJS AUGHAJKSD LOVE AND CARE AND CONCERN 🥺 oh LORD

AAAAAAAAAA MY GIJUKANSDJKAJKSDNJKASJKD

OKay OKAY OKAYSYDKUAJS okay okay. Okay. ok. yes.

This,,,, this was supposed to be a blurb,,,,, and then somehow,,,, along the way,,,,, it evolved into a short fic like what the fuck i just can't shut up when it comes to him 😭😭

「 CWS : 」 Light descriptions of injuries, established relationships, Wriothesley being so soft for you

Okay. So it's no biggie to you, really. Getting a little banged up on the job? Just a regular day for an adventurer. There's no real cause for concern— no need to go to a hospital or a clinic, and certainly no need to bother Wriothesley about it. Not when he's already up to his neck with extra work since the court has just sentenced some new convicts to the Fortress.

You're a seasoned adventurer! You know how to do first aid. It's easy!

Until it gets a little bit more difficult.

Applying salve and bandaging up your arms and legs gave you no trouble. Your lower back was just a smidge bit more difficult, but nothing you couldn't do. The main difficulty, you conclude, huffing in annoyance and staring at your reflection in the bathroom of your home, is that stupid laceration between your shoulder blades that for the life of you you just couldn't reach, much less patch up and slap some gauze over. Your arms are already aching from all the stretching they've gone through, all in vain because you couldn't reach that stupid spot on your back. And to make matters worse, all the movement was beginning to make the laceration sting and you worry that any more exertion would make the scratches on your arms and shoulders open back up, which is a whole other can of worms you'd rather not deal with.

You're hyping yourself up, convincing yourself to try just one more time— no, if you're careful your wounds will absolutely not open back up and you'll definitely be able to clean up before your boyfriend gets home and—

You're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even hear the front door opening. What does catch your attention is Wriothesley's voice from down the hall, calling that he's home and oh shit in your haste to patch yourself up you hadn't closed the bathroom door and fuck fuck fuck he's too close and you're too far from the door to slam it closed and you grimace to yourself when you see Wriothesley appear at the open bathroom door, his expression melting into one of surprise (and not the good kind) as his eyes grow wide and his mouth opens just the slightest bit, taking in the bandages wrapped around parts of your arms, parts of your legs and around your torso.

"...Hi." That's all you can come up with as your eyes meet his in the reflection of the mirror, looking both guilty and sheepish.

"...Hi," he echoes, still staring. Then it breaks, his brows furrowing with concern. You can see the questions on the tip of his tongue. Are you alright? What happened? Why didn't you call?

But instead, he approaches, taking the open salve you've placed on the counter into his own hands. "Arms down. Don't strain them," he says, giving them a gentle nudge until they fall to your side. He scoops a liberal amount of the salve up, gently covering that pest of a wound with it. The cooling sensation feels delightful on the clotted scratch, but you can't help protesting his help.

"I- I can do that, you don't..."

"I may not have to, but I certainly want to. The gauze, please, dearest." You hand it to him over your shoulder, and he takes it with a mumbled word of thanks, tending to the wound that had given you such a headache. He does it better than you ever could yourself, even laying a small kiss on the bandage that has your heart melting.

The he releases you, catching your eye in the mirror as he makes a turn around motion with his hand. "Come on, dearest, let me check on the rest of you."

You do as you're told, spinning around slowly. He helps you sit on the counter of the sink, hands careful to avoid any of your injuries where he grips your waist and hoists you up. He doesn't speak while he checks you over, hands skimming your skin so gently it almost tickles. He checks if you've done your bandages right, if you've missed any scratches or scrapes. To his relief you have not, and the only wound that you hadn't treated was the one he had helped with.

Wriothesley's checkup ends at a scratch on your face that you stuck a bandage on, and his hand gently cups your cheek when he's done. On instinct, you lean into his touch.

"You're all good. Nice job with the bandages, dearest," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. Then he raises a brow, face turning just a bit more serious, tone becoming more like that of the duke that many people feared. "Now. Can you tell me why you tried to do it alone when you could have asked for my help?"

"Because I could have taken care of it myself." You tell him in a huff, looking away from his eyes. "You're busy and I wouldn't want to bother you over something I was capable of doing myself. It would have given you more things to worry about."

You make a pointed effort not to look at him, and Wriothesley can't help it when he laughs under his breath. "Even if I'm busy, you can always come to me for help. Work or no work, you'll always be my priority."

Before you can even protest, adamant that you would never want to willingly interrupt his workflow, the thumb of his hand comes to stroke your bottom lip, silencing you. "Nope. No if's or but's. Especially when it comes to your wellbeing, I'll never turn you away." He can feel the flustered warm that spreads through your cheek under his palm and has to stifle a smile.

"You're always worried about me, so let me worry about you too," he murmurs, giving you a peck on the forehead, and he can practically see your stubbornness crack.

"Okay," you acquiesce, sighing, but you can't deny how warm it makes you feel to have him dote on you like this. Your boyfriend, the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide, one of the biggest softies to you and only you. "I'll come to you the next time I need anything."

"You promise?"

"Yes, Wriothesley, I promise," you exclaim, dramatically rolling your eyes, but smiling all the same.

A similar smile is reflected on his own face, and he can't help it when he feels the need to kiss you again.

"Thank you, dearest."

[hanihazeljade]

Three Weeks

As the snow fell into the streets of Gotham, covering her land with white sheet, he stepped out of the plane. He shivers. He missed the deadly coldness of his hometown. The pollution never seemed to change back when he left 7 years ago. He sighed, white mist blowing out of his mouth. He will only need to stay here for three weeks. Three weeks and he will go back to Japan.

After many years of being away to his adopted family, Tim comes back to Gotham for Cassandra and Stephanie's wedding.

(CW: flashbacks, negligence, swear words, a badass Timothy)

Next Part - Three Idiots

Part Three - Three Hopes

Tim looks outside of the bus. His eyes watch the streets of Gotham. Christmas lights are on as it was 5 days away from Christmas. He watched and watched, like he always did, as classical music blasted to his airpods until the bus hit the stop to Bristol.

In all honesty, he could ask Alfred to fetch him but the man is now too fragile to his liking to be doing him favours. He rather takes the 40 minute walk from the station to Wayne Manor. He doesn’t mind the cold, he actually prefers to be freezing every single moment of his life. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the burning desert in Iraq.

With his suitcase on his tow, he started walking to the peaceful street of Bristol. The snow gently falls into his face and quickly melts but some falls into his lashes and brows and he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it off. He likes the small blur on his sight, it shows that he doesn’t have to stay vigilant in this city. Twenty minutes into the walk, he saw the Drake Manor, still in its pristine shape, hopefully. He walked as he tried to look past the gates of the once house of his, snow is piling up but he will be visiting it once he gets his stuff unpacked.

As he starts to get closer and closer to the Wayne Manor, nostalgia hits him. The good memories flood his mind. Bruce giving them a small pat or rarely hugs, Dick trying to spoil all of his siblings, Cass putting glitter bombs to the most unique places together with Stephanie, Jason joking his death again and again, Damian giving them Alfred the Cat as a stress reliever, and Alfred giving them hot cocoa on the worst days and cookies on the best.

But obviously, if it's all just good memories, he will not leave Gotham. The bad to the worst memories starts to resurface. The threat of Arkham, the throat-slitting episode, the pushing to his death story, the I choose to follow Batman rather than to be honest with you thing, the hellish training with Lady Shiva and many more that he couldn’t remember. He shook his head to remove those memories. It’s been more than a decade since that happened and he has healed already. No need to reopen old wounds.

His time in Japan definitely made him more aware that he doesn’t need other people to love him. He can just do it himself. He starts to sleep for more than 6 hours a night. He eats three times a day, sometimes with a balanced diet, sometimes just pure sodium for ramen or just straight up scooping Nutella out of the jar. He now prioritises himself over others. He works for himself and not to get approval from anyone. He is now him, just Tim. A simple Tim that loves to photograph and now be the object of his photographs. 

Many things change over the course of time. He forgives the Waynes but he will never call himself one. Waynes never treats him like family, except for Cass, bless her pure heart, and he is now giving it back, the treatment of an acquaintance. Not family. Not friends. But acquaintances. That’s all the Waynes are to him now. Because god forbid that his teenage self is simply obsessed with them. He rolled his eyes on the thought.

As he was letting his thoughts wander, he finally arrived at the prestigious Wayne Manor. The gates are open so he let himself into the other five minute walk of the driveway. As he stared at the old oak wood door, he sighed, trying to compose himself as he will be in their presence for the next three weeks. After trying to console himself, he knocks hoping that it will be Alfred who will open the door for him. After a few minutes of waiting on the porch, the door opened, revealing the foyer of the Manor and Alfred standing in front of him.

“Hi, Alfred.” Tim smiled at the old man.

Alfred, still in shock but smiled back to him, “Welcome back, Master Tim.”

And then suddenly there is a commotion behind Alfred, making the two gentlemen on the doorway look. It shows Damian and Jason. Seems like the two are trying to race to see which one will get to the door first. Childish competitions, like what brothers do. Jason and Damian look at them, first to Alfred and next to Tim. And he looked back at them, giving them a gentle smile.

“Hi, Timmerly. You look different.” Jason spoke out of the blue.

“Thank you, Jason.” He said, “You look different, too.” he added. Jason has indeed changed. The white stripe of hair due to the dip is still there but the face and the body itself evolved. Jason looked taller than he last saw him, The tight wool sweater emphasises the bulk body of Jason. And that face of his, is always exceptional but more relaxed.

There he heard a cough and gave his attention to the person. “Timothy, you look alright.” Damian said, standing in his glorious 6 foot 3. His tanned skin is honeyed perfection and his build is more similar to Bruce and Jason. Green eyes looked at him like it was captivating his soul. The Demon Brat is gone and was replaced by a hulking man.

He was shocked for a fleeting second before replying, “Thank you, Damian.”

“Young Masters, as much as I like that the three of you are conversing like normal human beings, Master Timothy needs to go inside first. It is freezing out there.” Alfred interrupts them and tells Jason and Damian that he is still indeed on the porch. Jason without waiting a moment, went and grabbed his suitcase and he proceeded to go inside the manor. 

Tim asked Alfred, “Where will Jason put my suitcase?”

“In your room, Master Tim. I mean, your old room.”

“Oh.” He just said as he took off his scarf and coat and gave it to Alfred, as he left the three on the foyer.

He starts walking into the Manor and walks past the library with the rest that didn’t meet him on the door. Steph and Cass are cuddling each other on the couch while Bruce is on the loveseat fiddling something in the tablet, probably about Wayne Enterprise, and Dick is on one of the bean bags that is scattered in the library. The first one to notice him is Cass, of course.

“Little brother, welcome.” She said as she reached out one of her arms to him. Her acknowledgement of his presence makes everyone in the room aware of his existence.

“Timmy!” Dick shouted as went to him and hugged him. It kinda still startled him a little bit, but he awkwardly hugged Dick back. 

Bruce gave him a smile, “Welcome back, Tim.”

Steph hit his back, “When Cass actually told us that you will come for our wedding, we didn’t believe her.“

Tim touched the spot Steph hit, “I would not miss it for the world.” Then he walked to Cass, “Hey, sis.” Cass smiled back at him. “Winter wedding, really?” 

“Hey, winter weddings are beautiful. And Cass will look like an angel.”

“And you are the demon that made Cassandra fall down from heaven.” A voice joined them, it’s Damian.

“Hey! That’s mean!”

The chaos and noises are relatively relaxing but when he yawns, he excuses himself. “Going to sleep, Timmy?” He nodded and replied with, “Jetlagged.”

Tim tried to remember where his room was. And thank god, he found it with no anomalies. He entered the room and saw the room that he left. The room is completely gone with cans of energy drinks or packaging of junk foods. The bed is comforting as he remembers, he saw his suitcase next to the nightstand. He opens it and gets a fitted cashmere turtleneck and fleece sweatpants. He took a quick shower and changed. He laid down on the bed and let sleep take him.

 He woke up the sun already down and darkness already took the city. He grabbed his phone and looked at what time it was. 8:05 am. Huh?? Oh, his phone is still in the Japanese Time Zone. He quickly changes it and freshens up. He looked at the wide mirror in his bathroom, and assessed himself. He knows he changed when he moved to Japan. His toned body was dissolved into a more lean one. His hair was maintained into a shoulder length, but his hair is shining with a red undertone in the right light. He has an ear piercing. His face was more round and yet still sharp. He got taller but still the smallest to Wayne, even Cass is taller than him. No, he is not salty about it.

He scooped up a handful of water and splashed his face and hair. Once he could feel his rationality and sanity came back to him, he dried his face and went down to the kitchen. He needs something to ingest in his body, anything. He saw Alfred was making something in the kitchen.

“Master Tim, you are finally awake. Will you please call the others for dinner?”

“Sure, Alfred.”

He found everyone in the largest living room. Damian and Dick playing chess, Damian is winning. Stephanie is doing something together with Duke. Bruce is with Cass flipping in the catalogue of whatever they still need to add to the wedding.

“Hey, Alfred told me to get you all. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner is rather peaceful, but rather uncomfortable. Whenever his eyes linger for a little second longer on a dish, Dick is already putting it on his plate. Damian kept on giving him a piece of whatever Damian thought he liked. Jason is spoon feeding him on dishes on what Jason thinks he will like. If this continues, he will be fat and as a model he would rather not have that. The Japanese Modelling World is so strict when it comes to thinness of their own.

But after that dinner, he sighed as walked to his room, he grabbed a velvet box and went to what he thinks is Cass' room.

He knocked, then he opened the door. Waynes are known for just busting your door open before coming in, because apparently, privacy is a social construct. Tim is not a Wayne anymore and also he is one of the decent people who actually knocks before coming inside of someone’s personal space.

“Hey Cass. I got you something.” he said as he looked at his sister.

“What is it?”

Instead of answering, he pulled a velvet box and gave it to Cass. Cass accepts it and opens the blue velvet box, revealing a silver hair comb pin. Cass looked at him with huge eyes. He smiled at his sister, “My mother wore that at her wedding. She says my grandmother and my great grandmother also wear that to their wedding, and I feel like I am not the rightful owner of such a piece.”

Cass hugged him. He missed how tight Cass hugs him. The comfortable warmth that brings pleasant memories only, none of those scorching heat of Iraq. Maybe, maybe he can stay here for three weeks for Cass. For Cass.

[azrielsdove]

Rejected is one of my fave fics to date, so I have to ask if I can get a Cassianx f reader where the reader has gone through something tragic (what that is totally up to you) and Cassian helps her through it and while healing the mating bond snaps? (Feel free to play with this idea how you see fit)

Safe

Warnings: Violence, Description of attack on reader

***

Cassian was holding you tight against him, flying as quickly as he could to the House of Wind. You could feel each heavy breath drag from his chest, the panic radiating from him. You stared unblinkingly into the night, still comprehending what had just happened.

He landed on one of the balconies, running to the kitchen and yelling for anyone who may be there. He placed you so delicately on the table, laying your too-still body down. Azriel came running, eyes widening as he took in your form in front of him. “What happened?”

Cassian was rummaging through the cabinets, pulling healing supplies out in a wild manner. “I shouldn’t have let her go down there alone.” Azriel looked at him, cocking his head in confusion.

“Cass,” he tried again, “what happened?”

You became aware of the steady drip, drip of your blood landing on the floor below. The realization brought the searing pain in your side and arm back, the sudden feeling of pain almost causing you to wince.

If you had the care to.

Cassian brought the supplies next to you, hands shaking too hard to thread the needle. Azriel took it from him, preparing to stitch you up himself.

“She wanted to go down to the city, get a few drinks and walk around. It was late, I know what kind of people prowl around at that time.” He shook his head, as if that would make the sight of your bloodied body disappear. “I left her in a shop to run to another, just for a minute. She must have left, and-“ His voice broke, shaking sobs racking over his body. Azriel paused stitching your wounds, placing a hand on his friend’s back. Cassian sucked in a deep breath before continuing on. “I went back and noticed she was gone, so I started looking around. I didn’t think anything bad had happened until I caught the scent of blood. I ran, finding her in the shadows between two buildings. Like that.” He buried his face in his hands, ashamed that something like this could happen to you.

Azriel stayed quiet, resuming the careful stitching of your wounds. You hardly felt him, mind still stuck in that little alley. The male who had attacked you, trying to get money. You didn’t understand why he had been so violent. Rhys paid you well enough that you would have easily handed over whatever he wanted, had he just asked. Instead he plunged a knife into your gut, and when you tried to fight back he sliced it down your arm. He ran without even taking any money. He attacked you for truly, no reason.

Azriel was saying something to Cassian, forcing him to calm down. Cool water brushed against your now stitched wounds, washing away the dried blood on your skin. Soft bandages were carefully placed over you, more words shared that you didn’t catch. Someone was scooping you up into their arms, carrying you to your room. You were placed on the bed, warm covers wrapped around your aching body. A vial of something was poured down your throat, and before sleep took over you noticed one of the males placing a chair next to your bed. A glimmer of red was all you saw before falling into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

***

Your head was pounding. You winced as you opened your eyes, sunlight streaming through the windows. Within a second the curtains were pulled shut, your vision adjusting to find Cassian standing by them. He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are you, uh, feeling?” You stared blankly at him, trying to remember what had happened. He cleared his throat, eyes not quite looking at you. He seemed…guilty?

“What happened?” You asked, wincing at the soreness of your throat. Cassian looked up to the ceiling and swallowed deeply.

“You were attacked when we were in town,” he said, his voice quiet. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember. You could recall being in the shop with Cassian, and then him leaving to run into another. Not much after that-a sudden flash of memory ran through your body. You gasped as if you could feel the blade digging into your stomach again, the males hand tight around your throat. You instinctively curled into a ball, ignoring the sharp pain in your side at the action. You were going to be sick.

Cassian came to your side, reaching a hand out to comfort you. You yelped, rolling over and off the side of the bed. “Please don’t touch me,” you whispered, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. All you could feel was that males hands on you, digging in your pockets and threatening your life. Cassian looked like you had stabbed him, but he respected your wishes.

“Would you like me to get one of the girls?” He asked quietly, hands held tight behind his back. You nodded, still cowering from the floor. He ducked his head in response and went from the room, determined to find someone else to comfort you.

After what felt like hours of you sitting, shaking on the floor, the door pushed open. Mor ran in, immediately diving to sit by your side. “Oh, sweet girl,” she soothed, looking over you. “What do you need?” Her eyes bore into you like she could see what you were thinking. You couldn’t help the tears that slid down your face as you leaned into her, allowing her arms to wrap around you. She held you tight against her, running her hand through your hair. “You’re safe,” she murmured over and over again, reminding you that no one would harm you up here.

Mor held you as long as you needed, soothing you until your tears slowed. She helped you back into your bed, tucking the covers snug around you. “I am going to go get you something to eat and drink, okay? Would you like me to have someone wait with you?” Her eyes were wide with worry, clearly remembering what it feels like to be in such a vulnerable state. You shook your head, feeling better enough to be alone for a few minutes.

You sunk into the warmth of your bed while she was gone, replaying the night of your accident over and over. You and Cassian at the shop, Cassian running to a neighboring one, you going to meet him. The male jumping out of the shadows, dragging you backwards into the alley. The way you tried to scream as he wrapped his hand around your throat, threatening you if you made any noise. Your desperate plea that you would give him whatever he wanted if he just let you go, that you work with the High Lord and can get him anything, just please, please, please let you go. The feeling of the knife in your stomach, the sharp pain burning through your body. How you tried to fight back and he sliced down your arm, ripping muscle to keep you subdued. The darkness coming, Cassians voice yelling….

You rubbed your hands furiously over your eyes, trying to banish the memories away. You didn’t want to think about it anymore. You couldn’t think about it anymore.

Mor returned shortly after with a small plate and glass of water, sitting by your side until you had finished both. “There,” she said, taking them from you, “much better. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, if that’s okay?” She held up a little glass vial, one you recognized from the night you were attacked.

“Okay,” you answered, reaching to take the drug from her. Anything to keep those thoughts away. You took it in one drink, breathing deep as the dreamless sleep took over once again.

***

“You cannot hide in here forever.” You glared at Mor standing at the foot of your bed, hands on her hips.

“I can do what I want,” you shot back, crossing your arms firmly in front of you. She threw her hands up in exasperation, turning away from you.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.” You knew she was angry, tired of trying to bring you back to life. You didn’t care. You were happy to lay in bed and hide under your covers, stealing bottles of wine from Rhys at night.

“No one’s making you help me. You are free to leave whenever.” Your eyes burned, dry from the lack of sleep or proper nutrition. Mor turned back to you, fire in her eyes.

“I understand you went through something traumatic, but you don’t need to throw your life away due to it.” She stared at you, waiting to see what you would say. You pushed yourself out of the bed and walked to the door, opening it wide.

“Then leave, Morrigan. I don’t need a gods damned babysitter.” You made a big show of bowing by the door, gesturing her to go. She shook her head and stormed out, turning on her heel before you could slam it shut.

“Rhys won’t let you live here forever, rotting away. Figure it out.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her shout of frustration as she stormed away. You happily closed and locked the door behind her, walking over to your nightstand and grabbing the wine on top of it. You drank deeply, forcing any guilt away.

The wounds on your physical form had healed, but the mental ones were still strong. How could you tell Mor, who had overcome the most horrific things, that you couldn’t get past what happened? That you had nightmares every time you closed your eyes about that male, that you couldn’t sleep or think without it haunting you. It had been weeks since your attack, and no one expected you to be taken down so badly by it. You stumbled over to one of the windows in your room, sitting on the bench in front of it. You’re pathetic, you thought to yourself, taking another drink. No wine spilled on to your waiting lips, prompting you to investigate the bottle.

Empty.

You cursed, knowing tonight you would have to leave your room in search of another. Fine. Whatever. You would do anything to keep your feelings away, your memories dampened.

You were pondering how best to sneak out when a loud banging at your door made you jump. You sighed, knowing it was someone to yell at you. You walked over, opening the door with a sickly sweet smile on your face.

The smile dropped when you saw it was Cassian standing there.

He looked you over, nose wrinkling at the state of you. You suppose you’d looked better, the days-old nightgown and unwashed hair not the best you’ve ever done. “Mor says you’re a lost cause.” You rolled your eyes. Of course she did.

“Why do you care?” You felt a pang of regret at the pain in his eyes, knowing how heavily he blamed himself for what happened.

He took a breath, standing up straight. “I want to help you.”

You laughed.

“I don’t need help, General. Thanks for the offer.” You moved to shut the door, annoyed when he stuck his foot out to stop you. His gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his size intimidating.

“Let me rephrase that. I am going to help you. Meet me at the training ring tomorrow morning, at dawn. If you aren’t there, i’ll be sure to let Rhys know how you spend your nights.” His eyes dipped down to the empty bottle in your hand, his intention all too clear. You scoffed, slamming the door shut on him.

Who does he think he is bossing me around? You think, throwing yourself on your bed. The wine would have to wait.

***

You shivered in the chill morning air, uncomfortable in your now loose-fitting fighting leathers. You were embarrassed to put them on earlier, shocked at how much your body had changed in the last few weeks. You knew you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, but you didn’t think it would be this bad.

You glanced at the doorway again, waiting for Cassian to come. Was he so sure you would bail that he decided to not even show up? Guilt ran over you, ashamed that you had pushed everyone so far away that this was their impression of you. You kicked at the sand under your feet, hot tears filling your eyes.

Footsteps came from the stairwell and your head shot up, quickly wiping the tears that had fallen. Cassian halted at the sight of you, clearly not expecting you to have showed up. He took note of your watery eyes, concern flashing through his own. “I didn’t think you’d come,” was all he said before continuing on towards the weapons.

You trailed after him, shrugging your shoulders. Truthfully, you couldn’t handle the idea of Rhys coming to tell you how disappointed he was. The High Lord had offered you a job when you were struggling, impressed by your intelligence and outside thinking. You were happy to come live here, a far better home than the little shack you slept in. You could handle anger and disappointment from Mor and Cassian, as your friends, but from your boss? The thought had sobered you up, deciding that accepting Cassians help wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“We will begin with stretching and body exercises, building your strength back up.” He turned to face you, wrapping his hands in training tapes. “Then, we will move on to defense.” You paled at his words, at the reminder of why you needed to learn defensive tactics. The feeling of that males knife in your stomach flooded your senses, your fists clenching tight at your sides. Cassian observed the reaction, his expression softening. “Here,” he said, stepping closer to you and wrapping your hands as well. You forced your hands to stay steady, not wanting him to feel the almost permanent shake in them these days.

He started you on stretches, your muscles terribly tight after so long without use. You groaned at the discomfort. “Let me help.” You looked at Cassian, hesitant to allow him to touch you. He sighed and held his hands up. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you don’t want me to, just say no. I won’t be mad.” Your heart squeezed at his words, at the kindness you didn’t deserve.

“Okay,” you said, “you can help.” He instructed you to lay flat on your back and bend your knees. One of his hands wrapped gingerly around your ankle, while the other laid flat against your thigh. He slowly pushed your leg up to your stomach, the muscles flexing as he did. You couldn’t help the small moan at the feeling, the stretch releasing some of the tension in your body. Cassian’s hands tightened on you and you flushed, embarrassed by your reaction. “I, uh, sorry,” you mumbled out, forcing your eyes to the sky.

“It’s fine.” He set your leg back down and moved to the other. You bit your lip to keep from making the same noise of relief, certain you would combust if you embarrassed yourself any farther.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, Cassian leading your body through more stretches. He ended the session with some practice punches, getting the blood flowing in your body. You were properly sweaty by the time you were done, the cool morning long gone under the heat of the sun. “Hey, if you want to join us for lunch, you’re welcome too.” You were a bit stunned by his offer, but a smile ghosted your lips.

“Okay.”

***

Trainings with Cassian were helping you feel strong again. You began to look forward to the early mornings with him, the sessions quickly becoming your favorite time of day. While you were working your body, thoughts of that night disappeared. It was the nights that drove you to the brink of madness, the nightmares still incessant. Some nights you didn’t sleep at all, choosing to stay awake until the first rays of sunlight came out and you could go up to the training ring.

Unfortunately, Cassian was more observant than you would have liked him to be. He began to notice the ever-darkening circles under your eyes and the way you would stumble from exhaustion. His final straw was this morning, as you were doing weapons training. You swung your sword and fell right over at the force of it, narrowly missing falling on the blade itself. “Alright, that’s it.” Cassian hauled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the ring. He brought you down to the kitchen, making you sit as he got you a glass of water. “Talk.”

You looked up at him and sipped your water. “About what?” He shook his head.

“Don’t play with me. Why aren’t you sleeping?” He stared you down, arms crossed in front of him.

You shrugged. “Just can’t.”

“Is it because of what happened?” You stilled. “I know it bothers you, even if you pretend you’re over it.” His eyes bore into your own, drawing the answer from you.

“Yes.” You hated the shake in your voice at the simple word. You hated the pity in Cassian’s expression. He moved to sit down next to you, body facing yours.

“Can I help?”

You shook your head. Not even the sleeping draught was helping anymore. The nightmares seemed to override the magic, coming to torture you no matter what you did. The strain of it all was threatening to destroy you. Cassian carefully cradled your hands in his. “Let me stay with you tonight. I’ll sit by your bed, and if you need me i’ll be right there.” You thought over the offer and decided you may as well try. Perhaps having someone with you would make it easier.

“Okay.”

***

A hand was tight around your throat, a knife digging into your side. “I should’ve killed you that night, sweetheart.” The snarling voice is in your ear, panic overtaking your body. “I’ll just kill you now.” The knife rips across your abdomen and you try to scream, pain radiating throughout your body.

“Please! Please, i’ll give you anything you want, just let me go!” You were sobbing, voice strangled as he pressed his hand harder against you. The knife digs down your arm, rendering it useless.

“I don’t think so, little girl. This is part of the fun.” Your vision was darkening due to your blood loss and he dug the knife into your other arm. You lost the energy to scream, to fight. You crumpled down against the male, blinking into the brighter light outside the alleyway.

“Cass,” you mumbled before all went black.

You shot up with a scream, your fingers clawing at your neck. Strong hands wrapped around your wrists and ripped your arms down. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe.” You looked wildly at the male next to you, instinct telling you to run.

He rubbed his thumbs over your wrists soothingly, shushing your thoughts. “You’re safe, I promise. Breathe.” You took a shuddering breath, eyes focusing on his face. Cassian. Tears began pouring down your cheeks as you came out of the nightmare, realizing where you were. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, pressing soft kisses into your hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You cried until you were dizzy, the exhaustion threatening to take over. You clung to Cassian and buried your face in his chest. “Please don’t go,” you whispered as you felt sleep threaten you again. He laid the two of you down, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“I won’t. I’ll always be here.” You relaxed in his embrace, breathing deeply. Sleep came quickly, and for the first time in a long time you weren’t afraid of it.

You were safe.

***

Training the next day was the best session you had ever experienced. You felt refreshed after finally getting a restful sleep, ready to tackle whatever Cassian threw at you. You were full of determination, a stark contrast to the shell of yourself you were before.

You were nearing the end of your training session, knives in both hands, when you made a mistake. You stumbled and failed to block his attack. His knife ended up pressed flat against your stomach, in the same spot you had been attacked. You screamed and pushed him away, backing yourself up. “What is wrong with you?!” You yelled, hands shaking.

Cassian dropped the knives he was holding, hands raised in surrender. “You were supposed to block it. I told you, we were going to work on self defense.” You knew it made sense why he would do that, but your anger and fear overshadowed practicality.

“You’re a fucking psycho Cassian!” You threw the knives out of your hands like they were fire.

“I’m trying to help you. That is why we are up here, is it not? To train?” He stepped closer to you, anger of his own rising.

You shook your head. “Do you want to help me? Or do you just like the idea of the poor, weak damsel in distress? I don’t need you to protect me.”

He laughed and moved closer, towering over you. “That’s not what you said last night, when I basically had to rock you to sleep like a babe!” You glared at him, not shying away from his large form.

“You could have left at any time. I was handling it on my own before you came.”

“Handling it? You weren’t sleeping! You were allowing it to take over, turning to drink instead of help.” He moved even closer, your chests brushing with every breath.

“I hate you,” you spat out, even if the close proximity was making you doubt that.

“No you don’t.” His voice was softer, a hand coming to tilt your face up to him.

“I do.” You didn’t sound like you believed it. Especially not as he leaned down closer to you, lips centimeters from yours.

“Is that so?” He teased, eyes dark. Your breathing was heavy, overwhelmed by him.

“Just kiss me already.” The words were scarcely out of your mouth before his lips slotted over yours, his other arm wrapping tight around your waist. You sighed into the kiss, opening your mouth to his. Cassians teeth bit over your bottom lip, a pleased chuckle at the sound you made.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since I helped you stretch that first day,” he whispered, pulling away to kiss down your neck. “When you made that moan, I knew I needed you.” He pulled the same sound from you now, biting the sensitive skin under your ear. His hand tightened on your waist, a low growl sending heat through you. “You will be the death of me.”

His lips came back to yours, kissing you hard. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tight, enjoying the feeling of him pressed up against you. “Cass,” you murmured, body going still. You looked up into his expression of shock that you were certain mirrored your own. “Cass?” A sudden fear rose through you, worry that he didn’t want a bond. Not with you. Was he going to reject it, was he going to reject you, where would you go, what would you do-

Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by him kissing you again. “My mate,” he said, kissing you again and again. You smiled into his kisses, holding tight to him. And you felt it.

As long as Cassian was yours, you would be safe.

***

First of all, thank you so much for your comment about Rejected <3. I love that one and i’m so happy you do too! Second of all, I am SO SORRY this took me so long to do!!! I hope it lived up to what you wanted ❤️ Thank you so much for being patient with me and for requesting this!