#his latest attempt to get into the basement

[mydearzero]

Livid | mean!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Annoying Spencer, just to see him get mad, was one of your favourite ways to pass time at the BAU. Emily had warned you not too push him too far. You hadn't realised how right she was until Spencer decides he's had enough and takes you down to the basement.

Contents: DUB-CON, NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, mean!Spencer, no aftercare,, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, co-workers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie (is it even a mydearzero original if there's no coming inside?), spanking, dacryphilia, impact play, choking, spit, degradation, humiliation, semi-public sex, punishment, name calling, sir kink, filming and taking pictures without permission, orgasm denial, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

5K words

this one's a doozy folks. buckle up. it's pure porn - nik

You weren't doing it on purpose at first. It just so happened that you occasionally did things that got under Spencer's skin. You gradually realized which actions ticked him off and started doing them more and more. You just enjoyed seeing him annoyed, huffing and puffing, yet never saying anything. His patience seemed neverending.

Emily had warned you not to push him too far. According to her, when Spencer snapped, he exploded. 

Yeah, right. 

Her discouragement only egged you on. You'd hardly ever seen the genius even get mad. Spencer got irritated at best. He was an angel, really. 

So you continued pushing, taking every possible chance to get on his last nerve. It had turned from enjoying seeing him annoyed to wanting to see him furious. You'd seen Spencer snarl at a snobby police officer once. Hell, you'd even seen him snap at an UnSub. But you'd never seen him absolutely livid. 

It took you a while to figure out why you wanted to see him get mad. 

You thought back to that case, the one that had him yelling at the UnSub. You couldn't even remember the details of the case. All you could think about was Spencer's hands gripping the table as he leaned across it, getting close and personal with the UnSub. 

You cared about the veins straining against the surface of his skin, the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only lasting memory you had of the case was the tone of his voice and what it did to your body. 

A part of you wanted to be on the other side of that table, and it scared you how that part was growing exponentially, especially after Emily's warning. 

You didn't want to admit it, not even to yourself. But the sole reason you continued messing with Spencer was the age-old 'teasing your crush to get their attention' stint, and you hadn't even realized it. 

You shouldn't have been having all these deep thoughts and desires while sitting at your desk on a random Tuesday afternoon. Yet here you were. 

You tried to read the lines on the page in front of you repeatedly but to no avail. Your face sunk into your hands as you groaned inwardly. You had to stop this juvenile behaviour at this second. He was going to catch on. You were certain somebody already must've done the math. 

It shouldn't have surprised you when Spencer did finally burst. It wasn't like you did anything out of the usual. He wasn't even being tormented by a gruelling case. He'd just had enough. 

"God! You think you're so cute, don't you?" Spencer exclaimed, slamming the mouse you'd taped over on the table. The silence from before and after his outburst differed immensely. It was calm and serene before it turned tense and awkward. 

You slowly turned to look at his desk, not meeting his eye. If you had, you would've seen the way his pupils dilated at your meek behaviour. The way he had to regain his composure. 

Your heart rate skyrocketed, feeling caught. You knew reading minds wasn't a thing, but profiling sure was one of the things closest to it in this world. Spencer couldn't have known what you were thinking only seconds prior to him finding your latest childish attempt to invoke his anger. But it felt like he knew. 

Spencer scoffed as you chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly not feeling so funny anymore. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?" 

You gaped as you made eye contact with an overly amused Derek. He was enjoying this show to its fullest extent. "Don't look at me, kid. We warned you." He shrugged. 

You turned your eyes back to a still-aggravated Spencer. He pushed himself away from his desk and got out of his chair. He brushed his hands over his jacket, still sending daggers your way. 

Your gaze followed him hesitantly as he stalked over to your desk. You scrambled to arrange things as if your messy workspace would only annoy him more. 

"Get up." He demanded. You raised your eyebrows in question. Was he serious? 

"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Emily teased in a sing-songy tone. Not helping, Prentiss. 

"You're messing with me, right? Because of all the stupid pranks?" You asked sceptically. Your voice was wavering and uncertain. 

"No, I'm being dead serious. Get up. Follow me." Spencer made an upwards motion with his fingers as he loomed over your seated figure. 

You slowly pushed your chair out and sent questioning glances to JJ, who only shrugged. Your legs were unsteady as you stood. Spencer was your coworker, your friend. So why was your heart beating in your throat as if you were about to be sent to the fifth circle of Dante's Inferno? 

Spencer didn't say another word as his long legs stalked out of the bullpen, uncaring that you were struggling to keep up. You nearly tripped over your feet several times before reaching the elevator. You stood beside a seething Spencer, who turned to push the 'B' button. 

The basement? What business did he, or you, for that matter, have in the basement? Nobody ever- Right. Nevermind.

Nobody ever set foot in the basement. 

You twiddled with your fingers in anticipation, hearing Spencer breathe in an unnatural pattern. The floors passed by quickly, and before you knew it, you were met with the sight of the metal doors sliding open into darkness. 

Spencer flicked the light switch. Harsh, industrial, white light filled the dusty room. It was smaller than you expected. The rows of file cabinets made it look smaller than it really was. A desk was situated in the middle, seemingly abandoned. 

You shuddered a breath as you stepped into the room, feeling exposed even when you knew nobody could see or hear you down here. Your shoes seemed outrageously interesting, your eyes never leaving them as you awaited Spencer with bated breath. 

"Look at me." His words filled the silence. The room had an eerie lack of echo, his voice sounding closer than it actually was. 

You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze. He appeared taller like this, especially when you were already feeling small, hunching in on yourself. 

"I'm going to give you one chance to apologize for your downright appaling behaviour." Spencer crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. You felt as if you were being scolded by a teacher for throwing a crayon at another student. 

"Why the condescending tone, Reid? We're all coworkers here." You questioned defensively, mirroring his stance by crossing your arms. 

"That doesn't sound like an apology to me, but I'll bite. We are definitely coworkers. But you know as well as I that you changed that dynamic when you decided to start acting like a spoilt little girl begging for my attention." His composure didn't change as he spoke the incriminating words.

You didn't know what you expected coming down here with him, but this certainly wasn't it. You felt something simmer at his words, something you didn't want to acknowledge. You searched his face for any emotion, but only found a look that said "Well?" 

When he noticed you weren't going to answer, he laughed. It wasn't a hearty chuckle. There was an underlying tone of sarcasm and ridicule to it. 

"You've been at this for months, and now you're not even going to attempt to say sorry? I expected a shitty excuse, sure, but an apology nonetheless." Spencer scoffed. 

You knew he was holding back. You could see it in the way he turned his head and closed his eyes before facing you again. You damned your profiling skills for giving you a foresight of what he had in store for you. You'd seen nothing of his wrath yet. 

You knew he was getting frustrated at your silence, but you couldn't find the words. Nothing you could say could make this any better for you. You ran all the possible outcomes in your head, but every thought was more incriminating than the previous one. 

"Fine." He clapped his hands together, stepping away from the desk. He motioned towards it, signalling you to take timid steps towards the piece of furniture. You looked at him questioningly. 

His eyebrows raised. The words "You know what to do" went unspoken. 

You swallowed as your mouth went dry. You looked at the desk, before looking at Spencer again. He didn't have to say anything. He wanted you to do it yourself. You closed your eyes as you leaned your palms against the unkept wood. You slowly brought your elbows down, leaning on them uncertainly. If this wasn't his intention, you'd just embarrassed yourself into the next century. 

You heard him breathe deeply as he walked behind you. You jerked as his hand ran up your back until it reached between your shoulder blades. He pushed hard enough to press your chest flush with the desk, turning your head to lie it on the surface. His hand stayed there as the other was placed on your hip. 

Spencer let out a content sigh. "Better." 

He stepped away, leaving a cold feeling behind. You didn't dare move, already mortified at your predicament. You tried to breathe as quietly as possible as if any noise you made could set him off. You tried to hear what he was doing, unable to see him clearly in your peripheral. 

Your head raised off the desk at lightning speed when you heard the unmistakable sound of a phone camera shutter. 

"Did I say you could move?" Spencer asked. You shook your head, quickly placing it back on the desk. For a second, you wondered why you were even listening to him. He had no authority over you. But it felt exhilarating to give it to him. 

"You speak when I ask you a question. No shaking your head, understood?" His voice came from in front of the desk. How hadn't you noticed him walking around it? 

"Yes, sir," You squeaked, doing as he asked. Sir? Really? 

"Good girl." 

The words flipped a switch inside you. You licked your lips and closed your eyes, seemingly having to wait an eternity for him to take the next step. You heard the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling. You found yourself crossing your legs at the implication. Surely he wasn't going to whip you? 

You thought you were going to get scolded for the action, but Spencer ignored it. He reached for your wrists, lying awkwardly beside your head. You didn't dare make eye contact. 

You were confused at his next action until you saw the hole near the back of the desk, meant for cables. He threaded the belt through it before bringing your wrists to it and tying them together. The positioning was awkward at best, but you were starting to feel like that's what he wanted, to embarrass you. 

You gave the makeshift handcuffs an experimental tug. They didn't budge, of course. Panic simmered in your chest, a claustrophobic feeling settling at the thought that you were stuck. There was nowhere for you to go, nowhere for you to run from Spencer's revenge. 

He ran a hand through your hair, softly shushing you like you were a child. His hand slowly slid down your back. Your breath stuttered at his deliberate pace. He was taking his sweet time. 

"Shhh... You're fine." He whispered, putting a foot between yours and kicking them open. You grunted at the action just as he was hooking his fingers into your bottoms and taking your underwear clean off with them. He lifted one of your feet, only bothering to untangle one foot and leaving your clothes pooled at your other ankle. 

His fingers trailed up the inside of your leg. The tips of his fingers finally found the spot where you needed them most, but Spencer didn't do much besides feel you up. 

"You're so fucking wet it's pathetic." He mumbled as he wiped his fingers on your thigh. 

"You can pretend that you're tough and grown up all you want, but this is what you are. A pathetic little whore begging for my attention." Spencer walked around the desk and grabbed your chin harshly. The look in his eyes could only be described as animalistic. The ghost of a smirk danced on his lips. 

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you. But he did no such thing. 

"Open your mouth." He demanded, squishing your cheeks between his pointer finger and thumb. You obeyed, but it wasn't good enough for him.

"You can do better than that, c'mon." He urged, putting his thumb in your mouth and pushing your head back. He removed his hand and observed you lying there with your mouth open. He seemed pleased at the sight, humming in approval. 

His hand made its way back to your chin, turning your face upwards, craning your neck uncomfortably. You hadn't registered what he'd done until you felt a warm glob hit your tongue. Had he just spit in your mouth? You looked at him aghast. 

"Wipe that shocked look off your face and swallow it if you know what's good for you." He patted your cheek mockingly. You closed your mouth and swallowed his spit, not trying to think too much about the fact that known germaphobe Spencer Reid had just spit. in. your. fucking. mouth. 

"That's what I thought." He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You thought he was going to take it off, maybe leaving it on your arms, seeing as they were currently tied to the desk, but he did no such thing. He brought the hem over your eyes, effectively blindfolding you with your shirt. 

You couldn't imagine what you must've looked like. Legs spread, bottoms haphazardly pulled down, shirt over your eyes, hands tied, pussy dripping. Your heart sank as you heard Spencer take another picture. 

"You look so good like this, exactly how you're supposed to be," Spencer spoke with a misconstrued sense of pride. 

You flinched and yelped when he abruptly struck your behind with a flat hand. You'd expected this was coming, that he was going to punish you, but you hadn't heard him approach. He rubbed his hand over the sore spot he'd just hit. 

"You're going to count them for me, and you're going to apologize after every single one. You better mean it because if I feel you're being insincere, you're only gonna get more until I believe you." Spencer set the rules, resting his left hand on your hip. You waited for him to begin, but another strike didn't come. 

"This is the time where you say 'Yes, sir' like you did earlier. I must admit, I didn't expect that one. But I like it, so we're keeping it," he mocked. 

"-Yes, sir," you stammered. Another hum of approval met your ears as he repositioned himself for the optimal angle. 

He didn't hold back as the second slap hit your butt. It stung more than you'd expected, a burning sensation spreading fast. 

"Two. I'm sorry, Spencer." You apologized, putting as much sincerity behind the words as you could muster. 

"No, that was one. The first one was just a warning. And you don't deserve to call me Spencer right now. You'll need to earn that privilege back. You'll learn to respect me soon enough. Now, start over." 

His hand came back down once more.

"One! I'm sorry, sir," you hissed at the pain. 

"What are you sorry for, princess?" Spencer asked as he delivered another smack. 

"Two! I'm sorry for disrespecting you!" You no longer had the energy to keep your head up, giving up the attempt to look at him and resting it back on the desk. 

"And?" He questioned. Another strike. 

"Three! I'm sorry for embarrassing you and pulling stupid pranks." You admitted.

"I don't buy it," Spencer contemplated. 

"Please, sir! I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry for being so childish." You apologized. A strike harder than the previous ones landed on your behind. 

"You don't speak out of turn, do you understand?" Spencer gripped your hair and pulled your head up to spit the words straight into your ear. You nodded wildly, as much as his grip on your hair through the shirt would allow. 

"Yes, yes, I understand." You said. Spencer let go of your hair. You only had milliseconds to respond, preventing your head from hitting the wood. He returned to his previous position, not wasting any time before landing several strikes to your ass.

This continued for a while, him smacking, you counting and begging for his forgiveness. Your legs were shaking by the time he reached the twentieth hit. 

"Twenty... I really am sorry, sir. I shouldn't have pushed you." You sighed, feeling Spencer rub circles over the impacted flesh. 

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked. 

"Yes, I won't do it again. I'm sorry." You didn't remember how many times the words 'I'm' and 'sorry' had rolled off your tongue that afternoon, but it must've been dozens. 

"Good. Now, for good measure, one last time." There was an underlying tone to the threat you couldn't place. You didn't have to wonder long, the last strike landing directly on your pussy. 

"Shit! Oh my god," you cursed, attempting to shut your legs. Spencer's feet kept them from moving. He'd anticipated the reaction. You were glad for the echoless chamber, the humiliatingly wet sound only reverberating slightly. 

"Now I can really be sure you'll remember." You could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this too much. But then again, hadn't you been the exact same? Gaining joy from inconveniencing him? You sighed at the realization you couldn't judge him for getting off on this. The last smack certainly hadn't been a dry one. 

"Now..." Spencer trailed off. He removed the shirt from your eyes, pushing it further over your head. He pushed the fabric into your mouth as a makeshift gag. 

"Don't you make any noise, okay? I mean, not like anybody will hear you down here." He chuckled. You turned your head and your eyes widened as you saw him walk towards the elevator. He pushed the call button and turned back to catch one last glimpse at you. He snapped a quick picture of your reddened ass cheeks before stepping into the elevator. 

You yelled his name through the gag, nothing but gurgling, obstructed pleas meeting his ears. He wasn't leaving, right? He wouldn't. He couldn't. He was just testing you. 

You were left with the sound of your own pants and racing heart. You tugged at your binds once more. What if he left? Went home? Surely it was past the regular office hours by now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes at the idea of being left here like this overnight. What if nobody came down here? What if somebody did come down here and saw you like this? You were conflicted. 

After 10 minutes of silent contemplation and several escape attempts, the metallic creaking of the elevator coming down sounded through the basement. You clenched your eyes shut, begging the universe it was Spencer and nobody else. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard the familiar sound of Spencer's shoes hitting the linoleum floor. You watched as he sipped his newly acquired coffee, not acknowledging you, only looking at his phone. After presumably sending a couple of texts, he shut it off and put it away on top of one of the cabinets nearby.

He smiled at the sight of the fresh tears rolling down your face. "Tell me, have you ever heard of Dacryphilia?" He asked as he crouched down to your level and wiped a few stray tears from your chin. He removed the gag from your mouth. 

You shook your head before correcting yourself. "No, sir." 

"It's a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing," Spencer explained. Leave it up to Spencer to dive into an explanation at a moment like this. 

"I never thought I was someone who could be turned on by that. But seeing you like this, I can definitely see the appeal." His words were quiet, but so was the room. 

"You look so pretty when you cry for me." He praised, running a hand through your hair. It was a surprisingly sweet sentiment, given the circumstances. He got up from his crouched position before you. You looked up at him. The domineering gaze he gave back told you all you needed to know.  

"Thank you, sir," you whispered, hoping it was the correct response. 

"See? It's not that hard to be respectful. But I'm not done with you yet."  

Your breathing picked up as you remembered your predicament. Spencer didn't waste any time, pushing his pants down. His cock was long and thick. 

You thought he was going to make you suck it. He pushed it in your mouth harshly, not giving you any room to breathe. He held you there, choking on his cock by the back of your head for a few more seconds before pulling it out and slapping it on your cheek. He smiled wickedly before tucking it back in his pants. It had only been a taste, literally. 

He saw your confused look, but ignored it, opting to walk back around the desk. He wasted no time, pushing two fingers inside your mortifyingly wet hole. He curled them exactly right, and you clenched your fist and eyes to stop your legs from giving out. 

Just as you'd started moving your hips along with his hand, he pulled away. "Stay still. Or you don't get anything." 

You willed your entire body to remain frozen as he resumed his activities. He brought his other hand to your clit, rubbing at the exact speed and pressure to make your knees buckle. You had to put all your weight on your upper body to stop moving. 

"God, will you shut up?" Spencer groaned. You hadn't even noticed you were making any noise, the moans and whines falling from your lips sounding foreign. 

You bit your lip to keep them from escaping, but it was hard when Spencer was unrelenting. You felt yourself coming close, soft, high-pitched whines escaping your throat no matter how hard you tried to contain them.  

Your toes curled, and your muscles tightened, but Spencer pulled away. More tears welled up in your eyes at the immensely unsatisfying sensation. You wanted to beg him to please continue and let you finish. But he'd told you to shut up, and you really weren't looking to prolong your punishment. 

You heard your own pathetic sobs, drowning out the sound of him undoing his pants again. Your chest heaved as you tried to stay silent. Sweat dripped down your face, mixing with the tears. 

It was bizarre how quiet he stayed. He was usually so talkative. But the implication that you didn't deserve him speaking to you unless it was an order was clear. 

"This is all you're good for. A hole for me to fuck. And don't you dare forget it." Spencer lined himself up and didn't offer any more preparation before sliding inside. 

"You're just a deplorable, woeful, pitifully sad little girl." Spencer spat as his grip on your hair returned. His other hand snuck around your neck, gripping tightly. He used the grip on your hair and neck as leverage to set a brutal pace, calling you every synonym for pathetic available. 

"You think you're so important? Good enough to be pulling shit like this? You need to learn your. fucking. place." Every word was punctuated by a harsh thrust. "You're expendable at best." 

You didn't dare speak, the only thing leaving you was quiet sobs, whines and moans. Your breathing was strained against the hold he had on your neck. 

You were embarrassed to feel the knot in your stomach tightening worryingly fast. Spencer was treating you like a whore, and you were getting off on it, faster than anything else ever had before. 

Spencer felt you tighten around him and quickly pulled out and stepped away. You felt the cold breeze on your empty hole. More tears spilt as you heard the sound of a video recording starting. 

Spencer zoomed in on your desperate, fluttering pussy, before pushing back inside, keeping the camera focused on his cock entering in and out. 

You tried to hide your face when he turned the camera to it, but his hand yanked on your hair, making you face the camera. 

"Say: 'I'm Spencer's little slut. His own personal hole to use whenever he pleases because I'm a cockwhore hungry for attention.'" Spencer demanded. 

"Please, sir. Don't make me say it on camera," you begged. You'd say it, just to get it over with, but the current footage he had was already incriminating enough. 

"No, you're going to fucking listen to me for once. Say it." The pace of his hips never let up, your figure moving crudely in and out of the shot. 

"I-I'm Spencer's... Please," you began. Spencer's speed inside you increased, interrupting your train of thought. He delivered a harsh smack against your still sore ass, urging you to continue. 

"I'm Spencer's... little slut. His own personal... hole... to use whenever he pleases." You inhaled sharply before continuing. "Because I'm a... cockwhore... hungry for attention." You stuttered over the words, forcing them out. 

Spencer seemed satisfied, putting his phone away. His hand returned to your throat, cutting off the airflow as he fucked you harshly. Every thrust of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through your body. 

The wood was digging into your hips, sure to be beaten and bruised by tonight. Your weight was no longer being held up by your legs, Spencer's presence behind you being the only thing that kept you from collapsing. 

You were tight with desperation, every muscle wanting that sweet release he was depriving you of. 

Spencer grunted unintelligible curses against you as he pistoned inside. His thick cock felt like it was splitting you open with every thrust, no matter how wet you'd gotten. 

"Gonna cum inside you, and there's nothing you can do about it," Spencer mumbled as he sped up. How it was even possible, was beyond you. 

"Please, sir. Please let me cum." You whined. If he denied you one more time, you weren't sure if you could take it. 

"What makes you think you fucking deserve to cum? You're an annoying, good-for-nothing brat who's getting what was coming for her." He moaned against the shell of your ear. The sound ignited something new inside you. You needed to hear it again. 

"Please, Spencer. Please," you begged, more tears threatening to spill after you'd assumed you were all out. 

"What, you're gonna fucking cry? Like a fucking baby? Don't fucking do things if you're gonna fucking cry over the consequences, you fucking slut. And it's sir to you, you whore." You'd never heard Spencer this vulgar. And you could've never imagined what it would do to you. 

"You know what they call this, crybaby?" Spencer asked, tightening the grip on your throat, cutting off most if not all of the airflow. You shook your head aggressively. 

"Karma." He spoke, thrusting harshly to get the message across. The combination of the lack of air and his ruthless thrusts was brutal. You could feel yourself trembling, trying to keep yourself together. 

Spencer pushed his cock sharply one last time, twitching and releasing his spend inside you with a loud groan. He released your throat and pulled out. You fell forward, chest heaving with dry sobs. He hadn't let you come. You cried frustrated tears as Spencer took more photos, as expected. 

You felt the warm come drip from your pussy as Spencer took close-ups. A tense silence overtook the room as he made himself decent before paying you any attention. 

"Garcia still owed me a favour, so she disabled the elevator from coming down here unless you enter a code," Spencer explained as he untied you. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, even if the ordeal was already over. The fact that there had been no real threat settled the uneasy feeling, even if only a little. It was the only consolation he offered. Spencer redid his belt as if it hadn't just been used as handcuffs while he fucked you like you were his property to discard. 

You rubbed your wrists, seeing the red wells carved in them from your relentless tugging. How were you going to explain this when you came in tomorrow? 

Spencer didn't seem to care, simply grabbing his stuff and waiting for the elevator. You looked around for your underwear, only to see a small piece of fabric sticking out of his pocket. You sighed and put your bottoms back on without the underwear, cringing at the wet, sticky fluid still between your legs. Your top was still wet with saliva and tears. 

You got in the elevator with him without saying a word. You'd expected to at least talk to him about it, but as soon as you reached ground level, Spencer was gone. 

Your eyes welled up and cheeks heated when you realized you were going to have to walk through the lobby and go home alone, all without any underwear and while still dripping his cum. 

Spencer had gotten what he wanted. You were mortified. And you sure as hell weren't going to pull any more pranks anytime soon. 

Not while at the office, anyways. 

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[emo-batboy]

I’m 1000% certain there’s a file of test videos (for research purposes ofc) of Battinson trying all of his fancy gadgets. These include but are not limited to:

Flying right into walls with his grappling hook

Jumping and falling like dead weight in his gliding suit prototypes

Just staring at himself in the mirror with his new contact lens and muttering, “I swear I can still see it”

Bruce watching over Alfred’s shoulder and scribbling frantically as Alfred tests out the bullet-proofness of the suit and cape

Crashing the Batmobile with his various turbo engine prototypes

Tossing differently-shaped batarangs at a target to see how it affects their trajectory

(Getting yelled at by Alfred because he decided to put the target right next to the elevator and almost killed him)

Submerged in a big tub of water for ten minutes to see if the rebreathing apparatus he made works then realizing he forgot to bring down towels then looking like a drowned rat as he waits for Alfred to come down

Raising his eyebrows several times under the cowl before deciding that he needs to make it bigger because it’s still obviously him

Injecting himself with different doses of his adrenaline shot (Alfred rips him a new one for trying it without supervision)

A random video of Bruce spinning in his chair and mumbling along to Mitski while he thinks of his latest case (how did that get in there)

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at handheld rocket boosters

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at rocket boots

Cutting off power to the entire building after using an early model of his EMP gun

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while a little baby bat just nestles in his hair (how did that get in there)

Smacking himself in the face with a nunchuck while trying out a new technique (he was incredibly sleep-deprived, like 62-hours-without-sleep-deprived, Alfred confiscates the nunchucks)

Coughing up a lung while testing out his new smoke pellets and immediately regretting it because this is literally a sub-level basement, what was he thinking

Dick complaining about how annoying and heavy his first Robin suit is “How can I do cool flips off a building if I can’t even touch my toes?” “You are not flipping off of buildings.”

Testing over 200 prototypes of flexible bulletproof fabric for the new Robin suit. (Dick spends this time practicing flips off of high places. Just for fun.)

Breaking his new night vision lens by turning off the lights, realizing he forgot to turn the lens on first, and immediately walking into a chair

Trying out an audio frequency jammer, but when he turns it on, all of the bats in the cave swarm him and he freaks the fuck out (Dick starts calling it the Bat Beacon, Bruce refuses to acknowledge its existence)

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Dick cuddles himself into the back of Bruce’s sweatshirt, fast asleep (how did that get in there)

Doing donuts with the Batmobile using its new remote controller while Dick cheers him on from a safe distance

Landing on his ass after shooting his net launcher without planting his feet first

Dick doing various flips and other skills in his new Robin suit while Bruce takes notes

Testing different skin-safe adhesives for Dick’s domino mask

Slipping on ice after using their new freeze grenades

Adding a parental lock onto the computer because Dick keeps playing Roblox on it when Bruce is gone

Installing a new entrance to the bat cave because Jason said he totally missed the opportunity to have a secret entrance behind a bookcase and now they’re all in agreement because it is much cooler than a boring service elevator

Cutting through random materials with their new set his collapsible knives and swords, including his table which he did not mean to break

Dick and Jason screaming bloody murder when they walk in on him testing a cloaking device prototype and appearing out of literally nowhere

Jason messing with the taser Bruce gave him and immediately getting it confiscated

Pacing in circles to perfect the tracking devices he installed in Dick and Jason’s utility belts

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Jason is in his lap, rambling about what he did in school today (how did that get in there)

Bruce, Dick, and Jason in a puppy pile on Bruce’s office chair, despite there being two perfectly functional chairs right beside that one. They’re all fast asleep

#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #dc universe #gotham #soft bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #give battinson a child 2k23 #battinson needs a hug #look at him #being a parent #alfred pennyworth #batmobile #funky little guy

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Return to Sender [5 of 7]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark! Andy Barber x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he's going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Smut, MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED

A/N: 👀 is… is anyone still there? i promised i’d update this this weekend, and i delivered. an hour before midnight, but i delivered. 😅 i know it’s been a while for this fic, but it hasn’t been forgotten about. i really hope you all enjoy this latest installment, and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! as always, comments are great, reblogs are golden. thank you for reading, and mind the warnings. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

 Where am I?

You stare blearily at the distant ceiling, dull and rusting metal beams criss-crossing over exposed brick. You reach out for Dove, and when your fingers meet empty air, your throat tightens as you remember. 

Pronge walking away with your baby, and Ari—

You sit up, your fingers knotted in the thin blanket. The repurposed garage office is still and silent, the springs creaking quietly underneath you. The air smells like old motor oil, singed rubber and citrus-scented antiseptic, and it burns your nostrils. You’re almost afraid to shatter the fragile silence with the sound of your movement, but it can’t be helped as you shove your feet back into your sneakers. The office is long abandoned, the desks all pushed up against the sides of the room to make space for the bed.

The hallway is slightly better, boxes of papers and car parts lining both sides, lit by old yellow florescent bulbs that give off less light than they should. There’s a dusty, unlit neon sign that reads Gary’s Auto-body, leaning against the wall. Down the hall, you can see that the light is on in the garage proper, this one bright and brilliant white. You squint as you pass through the doorway, spots dancing in front of your eyes as they slowly adjust to the light. 

In its previous life, this place had been a car mechanic’s garage, but now it serves as something like a speak-easy operating room. The car lifts have been mostly dismantled, and sitting on the concrete in the rusted outline of where they used to be are two operating tables. Ari is on one of them, speaking quietly to the man winding a length of beige bandaging around his right shoulder. 

Zemo. Ari called him Zemo.

“Mouse, you’re up.” You cover your mouth with both hands to stop the surprised squeak from reaching him. Guiltily, you peer around the door frame, waiting for a reprimand that doesn’t come. The “doctor” regards you with cold, calculating eyes. 

“So this is the young woman Mr. Barber is tearing the city apart to find,” he says. “How nice to finally meet you.” Andy’s name sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you clutch yourself. Zemo’s welcome feels less like kindness and more like tolerance. It makes you wonder how long you’ll be staying here. 

“You know Andy?” You ask, careful to keep your face as neutral as you can manage. 

Zemo scowls. “Well enough to know we do not get along.” He shakes his head, before regarding you with a cold smile. “Your husband has just as many enemies as he does friends.” Beside him, Ari sits up on the table with a pained grunt, swinging his legs over the side. 

“We can trust him, Mouse.” Ari offers you a watery smile. Nervously, you step closer, skirting around the now defunct counter as you attempt to give Zemo as wide a berth as you can manage. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, cleaning his tools with a cloth before dropping them with a loud, metallic pap into the metal tray next to the table. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him in a quiet voice as you approach, fingers dancing nervously around the gauze. You shake your head, closing your eyes as you blow out an exasperated breath. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but—” Ari places a warm hand over your own, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Lucky for you Pronge is a terrible shot.” Zemo quips. “He missed bone.”

“See?” Ari says, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “I’m just fine.” 

“You’re not fine. You have a six millimeter hole in you.”  

“Semantics.” 

“Keep activity to a minimum. I shouldn’t have to tell you this,” Zemo replies dryly. “And keep it clean, I’m not going to do it for you. This isn’t a hospital.” You watch him pack up his tools, ferrying them over to the deep sink on the other side of the room. Ari slides off of the table with a grunt, and you watch him press his lips together as he stands upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ari mutters, cutting his eyes at Zemo over his shoulder. “Six millimeters.” The doctor tosses him a worn looking cloth sling. Ari tries to fit it over his shoulder, and you rush to help him. “Thanks, Mouse.” Your cheeks warm with an uncomfortable heat. “I could have done it myself.” 

“This is all my fault,” you mumble angrily, shaking your head. “I have to do something.” You step back from him, tucking your chin. He rests a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“No it’s not.” 

“If I—If I hadn’t—” Guilt is an achingly heavy cowl about your sagging shoulders. 

“Mouse, what good is this going to do you?” The gentleness in his touch makes you flinch.

“As much as I am enjoying this conversation,” Zemo clears his throat. “I have my own wife and son to be getting back to.” You watch as he places his cleaned tools back into his bag. “Do remember what I said about your… hole.” He gestures to Ari’s injured arm with a grimace. “I’m rather keen on not amputating.” 

“You and me both.” Ari says. The two of you watch as he makes his way over to the front of the shop, pulling the metal garage door up enough to slip underneath it. “What time tomorrow?”

“Noon.” 

The garage door slams down hard onto the concrete, and then there is silence. You stand there awkwardly, twisting your t-shirt in your restless hands. They’re so used to holding the baby, without her sure weight in them they feel… useless. 

You feel useless. Adrift. 

And it isn’t just Dove—it’s everything. Despite what Ari says, you know this is your fault. He’d never have been hurt if you hadn’t been so fucking helpless. And it’s your own fault, you’d let your guard down, let Andy back inside, let him make a home inside your head, and it was your fault. 

“What are you thinkin’ there, Mouse?” Ari’s voice interrupts the self-depreciating internal monologue running rampant in your head. “I hope it’s about getting some sleep, you need it.” Again, his earnestness puts you on edge. You don’t know what to do with it—it feels alien to you now, almost like you’d prefer Andy’s smug cruelty—at least then you know what to expect. 

You don’t want to admit that you’re blaming yourself, thinking about all the ways you could have prevented this exact course of events just by being better. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m exhausted.” If anything, you’re too awake, recalling last night’s events with perfect clarity. You can’t even look at Ari as the two of you silently make your way back to the repurposed offices, shuffling along beside him as your insides squirm. You feel too much to go to sleep, so many warring desires it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You suppose that’s one thing you sort of miss about Andy—you didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He did it all for you. You arrive back at your “room”, fidgeting nervously before you cross the threshold. You don’t think you can sleep in here now, now that the adrenaline has worn off. Now that the terror has been waylaid by your other earthly concerns. 

 Ari notes your hesitation. 

“I can stay with you util you fall asleep, if you don’t think you can.” 

You duck your head, shaking it emphatically. “I should be looking after you,” you reply, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “You should, um, rest.” Ari looks around, raising an eyebrow. Oh. There’s only one other bed—and it’s current occupant is currently snoring so loud you can hear it in here. 

“You sleep here, and I’ll—” You look around. “I’ll sleep in one of the rolly-chairs or something.” He laughs softly at your sudden determination. 

“You know I’m not letting you sleep on chairs, Mouse.” Ari rests a hand on your shoulder. “You take the bed.” 

“You got shot, Ari!” You hiss. “I-I-I can’t—”

He holds up his hands placatingly, like he can see you working yourself up. Hell, he probably can. 

“Okay.” He threads the fingers of his good hand through his blond hair. “I’ll sleep on one side, you on the other. Fair?” 

“Y-yes. Fair.” Your words shock the both of you, and you feel your face heat as he regards you with a look of pleasant surprise before you look down at your feet. 

“You don’t have to agree if you aren’t comfortable, Mouse. You know that. I wouldn’t—”

“I know.” You grip your own forearms tightly as you speak, like you’re afraid saying the words out loud will make them untrue—like speaking the name of your demon will bring him down upon you. “You’re not Andy.” 

Ari takes the left side of the bed, and the springs creak under his weight. You crawl in beside him, holding yourself as stiff as you possibly can to avoid even brushing him by accident. The truth is, you are scared—but not of Ari. 

And that frightens you, too. 

He’s a man, a stranger, wearing a face too similar to the one you’re running from. Now, though, when you’re brave enough to peek at him, you see Ari—not Andy. And the longer you’re here, the clearer you see him.

You lie there in the dark, your arms held painfully stiff over your chest as you search the dark with wide, glassy eyes. The ceiling is far enough above you that your brain begins to construct patterns and shapes on it’s popcorn-textured surface. Grinning faces, tall, shadowy figures—

“Mouse, are you sleeping?” 

You hesitate. “…No.” 

“Go to sleep.” You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, blinking back hot tears. 

“It’s… It’s hard without Dove.” It’s so silent without the baby, the darkness uncomfortably quiet without the sound of her sleepy burble. She’s probably awake right now, wailing for you. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes like you’re trying to hold the tears in. 

“I know.” The mattress creaks, and you feel Ari’s weight shift. The weight of your loss settles in on you, then, the crushing vacuum of your daughter’s absence sucking the air out of your lungs as you gasp for it. You can’t keep quiet anymore, your hiccoughing breaths rising in pitch until you’re sobbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks to soak your hair and the thin pillow beneath. 

“Hey, hey, come here.” Ari’s touch is hesitant. He lets his fingers linger on your shoulders before he hugs you, like he’s waiting for you to rebuke him. You don’t. Instead, you curl into his chest, your wails muffled by his body as you tangle your fingers in his over-shirt. You cry so hard it hurts, your throat raw and aching. 

Ari’s hands don’t stray. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t murmur false platitudes or make promises he knows he won’t be able to keep. He just…holds you, his breath steady and heartbeat slow and even under your ear. 

And then, finally, you fall asleep.

—

In the light of day, Irene looks terrible. Her left eye is swollen black and purple, a patchwork of burst blood-vessels and yellow bruises spread out over  cheek. The other side of her face is not much better, the other eye open but blood red, and her nose swollen. It’s obvious she took a beating, a bad one. Still, she seems to be in higher spirits than last night as she shovels the last of her cereal into her mouth. You’re doing the same thing, hungrily crunching down the contents of your own bowl. 

“We need to talk about next steps.” Irene draws the back of her hand across her mouth, her one good eye focused on you. “We need to move.” 

“I’m not going anywhere without Dove.” 

“That isn’t an option anymore.” 

You clench your hands into fists on the table. “I’m. Not. Leaving.” 

“We will figure out a way to get her back, but right now? You cannot go back to Boston, he is never going to let you go, do you understand that?” It’s like you’re speaking two different languages, talking around one another in dizzying circles. You shove yourself away from the foldout table, knocking over your plastic chair. 

“I’m not fucking leaving without my daughter!” You haven’t felt like this in months, and something about it feels freeing as the hot rage pools in your chest.  No, it isn’t that you haven’t felt it, you haven’t let yourself feel it. Anger was hopeless with Andy, firm and stone faced in the hurricane of your rage until you exhausted yourself, your freedom, your life still frustratingly far out of your reach. 

You storm away from the table, kicking aside one of Zemo’s silver trays, and his tools skitter across the concrete. Behind you is the sound of Ari’s voice. 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you need to be away from them. Alone. The bathroom is on the far side of the garage bay, and you slam the door behind you, your chest heaving. You can’t leave without Dove, you won’t. 

You won’t abandon her. 

You grip the porcelain edges of the sink hard as you blink back fresh tears. You turn on the water with a fierce jerk of the knob, and begin to rinse last night’s tears from your face. This is the cleanest room in the building, fresh towels stacked on on the shelves, and medical supplies arranged neatly in the glass cases across from the standing shower. 

It’s probably the only room Zemo actually uses. 

As you’re drying your face, a knock sounds at the door, and you glare at it as you huff. 

“What?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?” You chew your lip. 

“Fine.” 

You unlatch the lock, and fold your arms across your chest as it opens. Ari peers around the door. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” You repeat, and he chuckles, stepping fully inside as the door swings shut behind him. “I’m not leaving without Dove.” You say it firmly, watching his shoulders sag with his deep sigh. “It’s not happening.” 

“Mouse. Look at me.” Reluctantly, you drag your gaze from the air over his shoulder. “Your husband—”

“We’re not married.” You spit, and Ari rolls his eyes at the technicality. 

“He’s dangerous, Mouse. You know that.” Ari places gentle hands on your shoulders. “You know that as soon as you step foot back in that house that he will never, ever let you go again.” Your stomach twists at his words.

“I can get out again.” 

“Will you want to?” His bluntness feels like a slap across the face, and though Ari hadn’t struck you—would never—your cheeks smart anyway. You know what he’s implying—Andy scrambled your head all up inside, and half the time now you don’t know up from fucking down.

But it still hurts to know he knows. Knows how changed you are, even though he never got to see the before, just the after.  

“Fuck you!” You snarl. “I am not leaving her! And if you won’t help me get her back, then I’ll—I’ll go back my fucking self!” For the first time since you’d met him, Ari actually looks angry at this, his eyes darkening beneath his furrowed brows. “If you don’t care about her—”

“I let Leah go back.” It takes you a moment to realize who he’s talking about, what he means. “I let Leah go back, and then I had to bury them both.” Ari’s hand is a pale, trembling fist on the bathroom sink. His next words are hoarse. “I didn’t know they made coffins so small.” 

“Ari…”

“I care about Dove.” The words are heavy, and you hate that you know he means them. “We are going to get her back.” His eyes are shiny, but he doesn’t cry. “I fucking swear we will get her back, but you are not going to do that. Okay? You’re not.” 

“You promise?” Your mouth trembles. 

“I promise.” Ari wraps his pinky around yours, holding your entwined fingers up at eye level. “And you aren’t going back.”  

“I-I won’t.”

“Promise.” His dark eyes burn so fiercely you want to look away. “Promise.” He repeats it firmly. 

“I promise.” 

And then he’s kissing you, cupping your chin with his good hand as he presses his lips desperately against your own. Your heart pounds in your ears as you go stiff in his arms. Ari breaks away, releasing you with a soft curse. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Mouse, I—I didn’t mean to do that, I just—” For once, he’s flustered, his cheeks ruddy beneath the shadow of his beard. Ari cards his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.” 

The moment hangs between you in the air, held like a breath. 

Your body stays tensed, like you’re ready to fight, or run, like it remembers Andy’s strict instructions. Except… Andy isn’t here to deliver them himself. 

“It’s…” You don’t know what to say, hell, you don’t even know what you’re feeling. Everything is all mixed up, the emotions all biting the tails of the ones they’re chasing—you’re terrified, you’re exhilarated, you’re nauseous and scared and happy and—

“I’ll go. I should go.” Ari mutters the words more to himself than to you. You’re moving before you really mean to, leaning up on the tips of your toes to press a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I—I don’t want you to go.”  With a sigh, Ari melts against you, resting his forehead against yours.  You know you have done this before—many times, even just with Andy—but somehow there is a marked uncertainty as you lift your own hand to Ari’s face, stroking your thumb along his stubbled jawline. He hums, turning his face into your palm, and you feel the press of his lips. 

 Ari wraps his good arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into the meat of your hip through your pajama pants. His right arm flexes, his fist clenching and unclenches in the sling like he wants to move it, but he knows better. Instead, he buries his nose in your hair, the tips of his fingers creeping up beneath your t-shirt to stroke at your belly. You tense at his touch and then relax again, shivering. 

“You tell me to go, I go.” Ari repeats softly, nosing down the side of your jaw. “I won’t be angry.” You look for the pool of cold dread that usually sits in your belly whenever Andy touches you, the reluctant fear that you stamp down to please him but find it entirely absent. 

“You don’t have to make me happy, you don’t have to do what I want because I want it.” You have to stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around Ari’s broad shoulders. There is undeniable excitement uncurling in your belly, warmth skipping under your skin at his touch. You want Ari to touch you.

“What if… it would make me happy?”

Ari huffs out a breathy laugh, his lips curving against your own. “That’s all I seem to want to do.” He takes your mouth again with a fervor that leaves you pleasantly breathless. Ari tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of your neck, holding you still. His teeth tug at the weight of your lower lip and you gasp, opening for him. Ari tastes faintly of cinnamon sugar and something distinctly him that makes you shiver. 

“Been wanting to do that for a goddamn week.” He sighs the words against your mouth. He smooths his hand down the back of your neck, tracing a gentle finger along the length of your spine. You don’t know you’re holding your breath until you release is as his palm skirts over the curve of your ass. He chuckles. “Is this okay?”

“Y-yes.” Ari palms your ass in response and you gasp, tangling your fingers in his over-shirt. It feels strange to be asked what you want, to even consider your own feelings as worth listening to. Andy tells you what to want, what to think, how to feel—Ari simply…allows you to be. Just as you are. 

“I wanna touch you, Mouse,” he breathes. The admission sends a sharp bolt of electricity straight down your spine. “Can I?” You can’t avoid his eyes anymore, reluctantly meeting his gaze with your own. The words stick in your throat.

“You have to tell me, Mouse.” He strokes your trembling chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not him.”Andy always played at giving you choice, but you know Ari isn’t. That if you tell him to, he’ll walk away, and he won’t punish you for it. 

You close your eyes hard, pressing the lids shut till they hurt. You don’t want to think about Andy right now, don’t want to think about Dove without you—you just want this. It feels like you have to reach down your own throat to find it, pulling your own voice up and out through your mouth with force.

“Please?” 

Ari groans, plunging his hand into your loose sleep-pants to wrap around your thighs. He’s strong enough to lift you one-armed as you adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist as a reflex and he hums approvingly, his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips. 

The hard planes of his body press against yours, and your face heats as you think of the new weight that has settled around your hips and belly, but Ari does not seem to notice its presence, his fingers skimming appreciatively along your skin. You can feel the bulge of his cock pressing against your core, and the breathy, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat at the feel of it prompts a chuckle. 

Ari grips your hip hard as he takes a few long strides backwards until you feel cool tile beneath your back. He holds you there, pinned comfortably between his body and the wall as he grinds into you. He ruts against you with a groan. The thin, stretchy fabric between you offers little protection, considering, you can practically feel him throbbing through his zipper. 

“See, Mouse?” He says lowly. “All for you.” Ari releases you, and your feet have barely touched down on the tile before he’s pulling at the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Let’s take this off.” You nod, tugging it up over your head breathlessly, unaware of where it lands after Ari tugs it from your fingers. He drops to his knees, hooking a finger under the elastic band holding up your pajamas. You tense, remembering the last person who had been between your legs, but Ari grounds you, his lips brushing over the curve of your hip. 

“Don’t.” His mouth moves softly against your skin. “Stay here. With me, right now. Don’t go anywhere else.” Ari peels the layers of clothing back from your skin, his hands roaming hungrily over each newly revealed inch. You step out of them and then quickly scoot off your socks. Ari looks up at you from between your thighs, making hard, heavy eye contact as he places a hand beneath your knee. 

“Can I do this for you, Sweetheart? Can I make you feel good?” God, you want to let him. Everything’s out of you control—Andy, Dove, your whole life, but this? This is yours. This, you get to choose.

“Yes.” Even the act of consent feels unfamiliar. “I—I want to.” You don’t know how to describe the way you see the relief leave his body, his broad shoulders relaxing as he widens your stance, pushing your thighs apart till he can kneel between them properly. He squeezes the back of your thigh reassuringly before slowly lifting it to rest on his good shoulder. Ari holds your gaze as he leans forward to place a kiss on the chubby curve of your vulva through your cotton panties. 

His mouth is warm and soft—reverent as he mouths at your swelling lips through the fabric. Ari strokes your hip as he catches the fabric with his teeth, before pulling it aside to marvel at your bare pussy. You want to look away but you don’t, your mouth dropping open as he delivers a sloppy kiss against your slick folds. 

“O-oh,” the sound falls from your lips unbidden, and you feel his mouth curve against you. He pauses briefly to shrug out of his flannel, and dimly you are aware of the sound of his zipper before he’s back, his face thrust hard into the soaking place between your thighs. You mumble his name. 

“Ari, Ari, Ari—” 

He rolls the pearl of your clit against the roof of his mouth, circling your entrance with one finger. You press your head back against the tile, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. You do not remember threading your fingers through his hair, but as you tighten them, tugging, he moans, throaty and low. When you chance a look down, Ari is staring at you with lidded eyes. He flicks your clit sharply with the tip of his tongue, humming appreciatively as you jackknife. 

“Go ahead and cum, Mouse,” he murmurs the words against your slick, twitching skin. “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know you need it.” One hand remains buried in Ari’s hair, tugging on it helplessly as the other scrabbles for purchase against the tile, looking for something—anything—to hold onto. You push against the hot water knob, and the pipes rattle as water rockets through them. You are tangentially aware of the spray of warm water from the shower head—but only barely. You whine helplessly, hips rolling against Ari’s face as you cum. 

He presses the tip of his finger into your cunt, groaning at the feel of you, wet and swollen and sucking at him. He gently lowers your leg, and your trembling knees nearly buckle. You watch as Ari wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly as he stares at the sticky, messy spot at the apex of your thighs. It’s thick, veiny like his forearms. He sweeps his thumb across the tip,  spreading the dewy drop of precum gathered there. 

Ari stands, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. From inside, he produces a wrinkled—but sealed—condom. He tears into the packet with his teeth before discarding it. He fumbles with one hand, nearly dropping it, but you help, gingerly pulling the condom from his fingers. Ari stands stock still as you roll it slowly down to the base before he grasps your chin, his mouth crashing against yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. 

This time when he lifts you, he uses the wall to leverage your weight, sinking you down slow as you lock your ankles behind his waist. Ari’s head lolls, his lips parting in a silent “o” as he draws his hips back, and then fully sheathes himself inside. The air in your lungs escapes in a sharp, needy whine. 

“F-full.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until Ari hums in agreement. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it Mouse?” He breathes. “Shit, you’re squeezing me so nice,” he breathes, drawing back until your cunt is sicking at the tip of him before driving all the way back inside. You manage a nod, your hips rolling greedily into his.

“I-I—fuck—again—” The words don’t want to leave your tongue in any sort of sensible manner, but Ari understands them, grinning hungrily as he picks up the pace. He skims your clit with his thumb, and you can feel the sparks skittering up your spine and you gasp as he does it again and again—

“Come on, Sweetheart, you’ve got one more in there for me, don’t you?” He mutters, angling his hips up into yours as you writhe against him. “Wanna feel it on my cock—mmm, fuck—” You do, leaning forward to bury your face against his chest as you wail, your cunt clamping down around him like a fist. Ari curls his massive body over yours as he empties into you, his hips pressing softly against yours. He holds you there, his cock jerking and throbbing inside of you as he mumbles soft ‘mm’’s and ‘yeah, fuck yeah’’s into your hair until he’s done. 

You stay like that, your body buzzing as the warm water streaming down over you. Eventually, when you can no longer feel the hammer of his heart against your cheek, he pulls out, and you press your lips together in embarrassed amusement at the crinkle of latex. He knots it off before tossing it into the trash bin. Your cheeks burn as Ari cleans between your legs, cupping your swollen cunt with an appreciative hum. He slides his fingers through the folds of your sticky sex, and your breath hitches. 

“I’m just cleaning you up, Mouse, I promise.” He’s true to his word, there’s   hungry, lustful intensity in his touches, only care. You str heady yourself against his shoulder, and your heart drops at the  sight of his bandages. The center is tinged with a pink circle, and as you stare at it, it darkens a little. 

“You’re bleeding.” Ari looks down at his shoulder and grimaces.

“Occupational hazard, Mouse. I’ll be fine.” He attempts to reassure you with a smile, but it doesn’t completely do away with the cold feeling in your belly.

“We’re going to need to change these, at least,” you say, fingering the edge of his wet bandage. “I think Zemo will be mad if we don’t.”

“He’s always mad.” Ari replies, and you laugh. “But yes. We’ll change them” 

It somehow feels more intimate to stand there in the shower with Ari, slowly washing off the events of the last day and a half. He shampoos your hair, rubbing it in gently at the roots with the tips of his fingers. When you’re finally done, he helps you towel off, before producing a generic grey sweatshirt and pants from one of the cupboards after a bit of rummaging. 

When the two of you return to the garage, dewy cheeked and differently clothed, Irene snorts. 

“Had a good time, did you?” 

—

Dove won’t stop crying. 

Andy isn’t a bad father, he knows he’s not, but for some reason, he can’t get her calmed down. Her little fists are clenched tight, beating the air above her head with a frustration Andy as her father, cannot seem to quell. He bounces his daughter tiredly as he paces around the nursery, mumbling soothing baby speak as he rubs circles on her back. 

She’s been wailing practically nonstop since Pronge had delivered her, his expression grim as he’d handed her over. 

I couldn’t get your wife.

Andy had wanted to rage, then, and he almost had, itching to slam the whiskey glass in his hand into Robert’s face for the trouble—but Dove’s fussing had provided a sufficient reminder that it might not be appropriate to do so. She cries herself to sleep, hiccoughing in his arms until her breathing evens. Andy carefully lays her down in the crib, stroking his hand over the curve of her cheek. He closes the door to the nursery, and to his disgust, Robert Pronge stands in the hallway, the decanter of whiskey from his office held in his hand. He takes a swig from it. 

“Who else was with her?” 

Pronge grimaces. “Irene. And her new assistant. Fucker’s as big as a goddamn house. Name’s Ari Levinson, he owns some shithole bar.” Andy’s eyes narrow.

“Get out.” He shoulders past the killer in his hallway, not bothering to take back the bottle.

“And do what, exactly?” He sneers. 

“Finish your goddamn job, and find my wife.” Andy waits to hear the sound of the front door before returning to his office. He’d had you—and you’d slipped right through his fingers again. You wouldn’t want to be apart from Dove, at least, that much he could be sure of. You’re a good mother, regardless of the doubts he knows he’ll have to plant in your beautiful head to get you to stay. 

Ari Levinson. 

The name is unfamiliar, and a search through both Massachusetts and New York state databases return no results. He does, however, get pings on basic search engines.

Ari Levinson. Dishonorable discharge, tried for murder, dismissed as self defense.

Now that is interesting.

It’s after midnight when he finally decides to turn in for the night, and as he closes his office door, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He reaches for it, frowning at the unfamiliar number—but then his eyes widen at the caller I.D. 

Albany.

“Hello?” At first, there’s only grainy silence on the other end, until finally, you speak. 

“I’m ready to talk, Andy.” 

He smiles. “Oh, Honey. I knew you would be.” 

to be continued…

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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#cevans fic #cevans fandom #christ evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fandom #chris evans fic #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fic #ari levinson imagine #andy barber imagine #darkfic #dark!fic #return to sender fic #boxofbonesfic

[slasherhaven]

The Devil you Know

Otis Driftwood x Reader

CW: Typical Otis things, violence, death, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, manipulation

Not really happy with how this came out but here's a little snippet from a larger story that's been whirling around in my head for a bit!

The door creaked on its hinges, the light breeze causing it to repeatedly tap against the wall. It was open and the road was right there, stretching out endlessly. Even RJ’s truck was sitting beside the house, keys probably still in the ignition.

The door was open, the road was right there, and so was a truck. And yet your feet remained glued to the floor.

All you had to do was move, one foot in front of another. Get to the truck. Even if there were no keys, you could run. Even if it was hopeless, not another soul for miles, you could try. You should try.

Instead, you just stood in the doorway, staring out as all hell broke loose in the basement.

You weren’t completely sure what was going on down there and you didn’t want to think about it too hard. RJ had towed a car up to the house, a young couple having car troubles and needing some assistance. Some good old southern hospitality. You wished you could have warned them, but you hadn’t dared say anything. You couldn’t, not when Mama was fussing over how kind you are for bringing these strangers some refreshing lemonade. Not when Otis was still eyeing you from his seat until you set the tray down as he could pull your stiff frame down onto his lap.

They were all busy now, dealing with their latest victims. They were all busy and you were unsupervised. You could run. Should run.

You remained still. The outside seemed too vast, too impossible.

You were snapped out of your warring thoughts when a strong hand grabbed you by the arm and spun you around.

You recognized the face immediately, the man that RJ brought in. He was a large man, who seemed even larger as he loomed over you, which was probably how he had managed to get back upstairs in the first place.

Blood pounded in your ears so you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You watched his mouth moving, trying to make sense of it but he was talking too fast. Even though you could hear what he was saying, you read his expression.

He was angry. Fearful, sure, but also furious.

His grip on your arm tightened, not loosening when you flinched and hissed. It would add to the litany of bruises, you were sure.

As he tugged you towards him, you acted reflexively. You thrashed to get out of his hold and attempted to pry his hand off of you, digging your nails into his hand and arm hard enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

You could finally make out some of his words, the harshness of them making you panic more. The feeling of being trapped, his bruising grip on your arm, the way he grabbed at you with his other hand.

“Get off me!” You fought and shouted, cheeks sticky with tears.

But this man was larger than you, stronger than you, and easily knocked the wind out of you by slamming you into the wall beside the open front door. Pinning you there.

Suddenly his grip went limp and the anger faded from his eyes, his words falling silent.

Your chest was heaving with uneasy breaths as the man collapsed to his knees before falling over on his side, blood pooling around his body and seeping into the floorboard.

Your vision was hazy, the whole room spinning around you.

The only thing in perfect focus was Otis. Standing just behind where the other man had been with a dark look on his face. He was covered in grime and blood, his knife left behind in the spine of the corpse at your feet.

“O-Otis…”

He said something, his lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything just like before. The ringing in your ears even louder now. You watched, eyes wide and hands shaking, as Otis spat at the corpse, his words coming harsher even if you couldn’t really make them out. He was baring his teeth now.

The walls were still spinning and the floor was moving, the only constant was Otis. 

He was your anchor.

You didn’t even realise you were moving until it was too late, your body acting on instinct. You managed not to trip over the body between you both before yours collided with Otis, your arms clinging around his waist and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Otis, he…I…what…”

Clinging to Otis’ steady frame, you feel still finally. You could still smell the gore on him but it reminded you of where you were, it grounded you. It anchored you even more when you felt his arms slow encircle your body.

“Don’t go crying on me, darlin’,” his voice was teasing, almost mocking, but you didn’t care. The threat was gone and the world was steady, you could breathe easily again. Nothing else mattered.

“Shush, Bunny, everything’s alright now,” Otis cooed, actually managing to soothe you some despite his sarcastic drawl.

“I’m here, I’ve got you. Nobody fucking touches what’s mine, right?”

It shouldn’t have brought you any comfort and yet it did. There was a time where those very words would have made your skin crawl, but now you found yourself burying your face further into Otis’ sullied shirt.

Seemingly seeing no further need to indulge your need for affection or reassurance, Otis unwound his arms from you and pushed you away by your shoulders.

For the first time you were able to catch him off guard, moving with lightning speed as you clutched at his arm. “Please, don’t. Otis, don’t leave, I’ll do anything, please, just…” you could already feel your breath quickening again in panic.

“Aw, silly Bunny,” Otis smirked with too many teeth, his eyes glinting with mischief. “C’mon, Mama will sit with ya.”

“No,” you felt a sob catch in the back of your throat, suddenly desperate to not have Otis out of your sight. He was the only thing keeping you stable.

“Oh, you just want Ol’ Otis all to yourself,” Otis’ smirk somehow grew as he dragged a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the fresh tears, the drying blood on his hand leaving a pink streak in its wake. “Why didn’t ya just say so? You can help me deal with this fucker then, then we can check in on Baby. She’s playing with his little bitch right now, maybe she’ll save some of the fun for us.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of actually partaking in the horrors that the Firefly family enacts but the dread you felt from the thought of leaving Otis’ side was overwhelming.

You nodded shakily before you could stop yourself.

Blood and gore squelched under your feet at Otis led you away from the still open front door but you clung to his hand all the same. Otis was dangerous and you had almost forgotten just how dangerous everything else could be.

Otis was deranged and dangerous and you never really knew when he would snap but he also protected you. He didn’t let anyone touch what belonged to him, so as long as you were in his clutches, you were safe from everything but him.

#otis driftwood x reader #slashers x reader #slasher #slashers #otis driftwood #slasher x reader #my writing

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Remember a while ago I read a book that I described as "Frankenstein, but with dinosaurs"? Well this one is "Frankenstein, but with plants".

I really, really loved A Botanical Daughter by Noah Medlock. The tone and style feels more traditionally gothic, and it took me a couple chapters to get my head into the narrative, and then I was obsessed. It's deeply, unapologetically queer, historical, lush and fascinating. It didn't hold back on gore or disgust, either, and I loved the titular Botanical Daughter. If you liked Frankenstein's Monster, you'll adore CHLOE.

It also featured a really fantastic relationship between the two men who are her creators/fathers, men who are both realistically flawed, whose relationship is loving but sharp and dangerous and barbed. A really severe change from the romance I usually read but I loved it anyway.

There's murder, mushrooms, weird taxidermy, a giant greenhouse and a surreal, glorious love story. If you're after more queer gothic horror, I would highly recommend it.

Full blurb under the cut!

It is an unusual thing, to live in a botanical garden. But Simon and Gregor are an unusual pair of gentlemen. Hidden away in their glass sanctuary from the disapproving tattle of Victorian London, they are free to follow their own interests without interference. For Simon, this means long hours in the dark basement workshop, working his taxidermical art. Gregor’s business is exotic plants – lucrative, but harmless enough. Until his latest acquisition, a strange fungus which shows signs of intellect beyond any plant he’s seen, inspires him to attempt a masterwork: true intelligent life from plant matter.

Driven by the glory he’ll earn from the Royal Horticultural Society for such an achievement, Gregor ignores the flaws in his plan: that intelligence cannot be controlled; that plants cannot be reasoned with; and that the only way his plant-beast will flourish is if he uses a recently deceased corpse for the substrate.

The experiment – or Chloe, as she is named – outstrips even Gregor’s expectations, entangling their strange household. But as Gregor’s experiment flourishes, he wilts under the cost of keeping it hidden from jealous eyes. The mycelium grows apace in this sultry greenhouse. But who is cultivating whom?

#queer fiction #queer horror #horror fiction #book rec #books #tbr

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 15 - Have You Ever Seen The Rain

📖I need to make two apologies. First, I am so sorry for the long delay. While work was beating my ass, I actually received a rude comment on my Wattpad account for the last chapter that triggered a horrible writer's block. It was taken care of, and it didn't bother me at the time, but I didn't realize how much it affected me until I started to write. Then I decided to use it for inspiration!

Secondly, I'm so sorry for what is about to unfold. This one was planned from the get-go (which is also probably why I struggled because this is the one chapter I dreaded having to write).

(I'll be running from the pitchforks as they come, Woot Woot!)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child, Shitty family dynamics, Angst, verbal fights, sexist implications, one slap across the face, and Jake being Hangman.

#6k words

Part 14 | Masterlist | Part 16

The story behind how you started ego-checking some of the cocksure pilots at Hard Deck is less interesting than one might think.

It all started with a game. 

You weren't kidding when you told Jake you were a library, loving geek who'd rather spend her time deep in the stacks. That was the plot of your entire post-secondary experience. You didn't know how to flirt. You stayed clear of frat parties and cliquey groups. And if a guy tried to flirt with you, you ran for the freaking hills without a backward glance.

You only decided to take that bartending job in building H's damp, dark basement because you were dead-ass broke. But the thing about being a bartender on a University campus, there were moments when you had nothing but time on your hands.

You had to get creative.

Looking back, you would blame the writer-orientated part of your mind that decided to create that little game of making up stories for the people who regularly visited the miserable bar.

The quiet girl, always sitting in the back corner, cramming for a test or writing a paper. Did she like the ambience, or was she avoiding the library? Or was she trying to work up the nerve to ask out one of the bussers, waiting for the perfect meet cute?

Maybe the nerds who gathered every Friday at the arcade-style game consoles playing Pac-Man needed to leave their dorm because Friday nights tended to be the one night everyone liked to party.

Those popular girls sitting around a table with their $5 cocktails, lowcut tanktops, and jean shorts, always on their phones gossiping over the latest social media post from their favourite celebrities. Did they have Regina George in their ranks? Which one was sleeping with the other's boyfriend? How much blackmail did they have on each other?

Which one would murder the other first?

That little game you invented for yourself got you out of your shell. It also made it easier to deal with the persistent football jocks who'd try to flirt with you for a free shot.

Ridley would always get a kick out of it whenever you told her. You'd always imagined her curling up in a ball and kicking her feet back and forth while she squealed in laughter over the phone.

"Be a character in one of your freaking stories. Or better yet, act it out! You're a damn writer, Lizzie."

She was right. So you did. 

You'd never forget the laughter of that football jock when your rejection of his flirting attempts to weasel a free drink out of you resulted in his childish reply of, "Well, nobody's perfect, Sweetheart, least of all you."

"I never said I was," you had said with a smile.

You must have said something right because a few minutes later, Penny was introducing herself and chatting you up, asking if you wanted a better job bartending.

You were all too happy to leave. But nothing could have prepared you for the hotshot, ego-driven, and stupidly horny Top Gun pilots who frequented the Hard Deck. 

Between remembering their drink order or what side of the room they tended to gravitate towards, you needed more than your little guessing game to figure out their tells. You did pick up little things about them, though.

The WSOs were the kindest; ironically, they stood out in the crowds. Always a kind smile, never a bad thing to say about anyone.

The female pilots were always badass. At least, you thought so. Strong. Always commandeering the room the second they walked in. Always nice, no question about it. But mess with them; you got schooled hard.

They were the literal definition behind the saying, 'Do no harm, but take no shit.'

And with each new group that came in, the male pilots, the single flyers you had called them, paled compared to those jocks. They never changed. A pair constantly vied for first place with each new group that came through the Top Gun program.

Always a pair of males. Women always knew there was more at stake than a freaking trophy.

Those guys talked to you. Well... properly flirted at you.

That's where your little game came in handy. Picking out the little things about them, letting your mind do the creative parts next. It's how you turned Jake down so quickly that first time.

But the guy currently approaching the bar? He did not fit the bill of any regular customer you had seen in a while.

Tourists came and went without question. They stood out like a pack of flies, unsure where to go, with friendly faces and always asking what the best places were. They tipped great, and they never returned.

This guy? 

Not a tourist.

He was from out of town. The plaid shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were unusual for a California bar. It was also how he gaped at the walls and ceiling, taking in all the Navy memorabilia Penny had collected over the years. If you hadn't been paying attention, you could have sworn there was a look of distaste on his face with each new item he saw.

But what irked you was the sense of familiarity you couldn't place while looking at him. Blonde hair and a sharp face. Something in how he carried that toothpick between his teeth, not in the way god forbid fucking Tyler had, but as if it was a piece of grass. Also, in the way he walked.

Then he openly leered at a woman's ass as she walked by, and it all made sense.

Ah, a Wham, Bam, Thank You, Mam.

He sat in the empty chair directly in front of you, still watching the women's retreating form. You didn't want to serve him, but a tiny part of you hoped your assumption had been wrong.

It had been a while since you had to rebuff flirty advances; the newer pilots going through the Top Gun Program hardly said anything to you except smile and relay their order.

You suspected Jake was behind it.

"What can I get you?" you smiled at the guy. He slowly pulled his eyes away with a sly grin. The second he caught sight of your face, his mouth stretched even wider as he leaned forward on the bar.

"Your number and the name of a good hotel."

You should have known better. 

If it looked like a duck, it quacked like a duck too.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you straightened the line of shot glasses under the bar, not once looking up as you answered him. "Well, I can answer one out of two of those questions, but I'm afraid the only hotels around here are resorts. There is a bed and breakfast about ten minutes down the road that will give you a good deal."

"Will they give me a good deal if I mention your name?"

"Only my friends know my name, and you are simply a customer sitting at my bar wanting a drink?" you raised your eyebrow, tapping your finger against the bar.

He made a show of thinking about it, rocking his shoulders back and forth. He finally nodded, leaning forward to answer you.

"Whiskey. Straight."

You recognized his accent as you reached beneath the bar to grab the bottle. It was more pronounced and slightly more profound, but without a doubt, he sounded like Jake.

Good old southern Texas Charm.

Normally you'd engage in small talk, but you wanted nothing more than to leave this asshole alone. Thinking he'd leave it be after you poured him his drink, you slid the glass forward, then made your way over to the other side of the bar.

The words he called out after you made you stop in your tracks.

"You must get attention all the time. Having your pick of the litter each year."

You whipped around, offended. " Are you calling me easy?!"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying a good-looking woman like yourself, in this place... you clearly aren't sticking around because of the pay."

Oh, you wanted this guy gone. That could have been one of the most double-standard comments you had ever received. Old Liz would have sputtered, maybe run into the back fridge and asked one of the other bartenders to handle it.

You now? No chance in hell. If he were going to give it, you would give it right back. You weren't going to play the boyfriend card. You could fight your own battles, and something told you even if you told him you had a boyfriend, he'd think you were lying. He seemed like the type that wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You've got some nerve." You crossed your arms, matching back to him from the other side of the bar. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not here because I'm looking for attention or have trouble finding a date. You've spent all of two minutes sitting at this bar, talking shit, while I've been fighting the urge to point out your confusion regarding basic anatomy." 

He raised his eyebrows at your reply. "My confusion?" 

You leaned forward, resting your arms upon the bar, eyeing him sourly. "Is your mouth your asshole, or are you just one?" 

It was one of the more cruder remarks you had ever responded with. But this guy was trying to go for gold. Unphased, he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up. "Hey, no need to be aggressive. You should take it as a compliment. I never called you anything derogatory." 

You huffed, pushing yourself away from him, rolling your eyes. "Calling me good-looking, then proceeding to say I'm only working here because it's 'easy to access' is still calling a woman a slut. You don't need to say the word to imply the meaning." 

You ripped the dishrag from your shoulder, running it under the tap, muttering more to yourself, "There's no way that shit works on women."

"It does on the women back home," he answered you.

"Oh, so are you staying? Don't tell me you're a new pilot at Top Gun."

They'll beat that attitude right out of you.

"Oh, I'm just passing through. I figured I'd scout out the area. I heard this was a Navy bar. Don't understand what all the fuss is about." 

You didn't answer him. Opening your mouth only led to him replying, and the quicker he finished his drink, the faster he'd leave. He took your silence as a means to continue. 

"Still playing hard to get?" 

"You ask me a question. I might choose not to answer." 

"Wow. Subtle." 

You turned, a hand on your hip. "You can't honestly expect me to speak to you, a complete stranger, after the way you just undermined my job because I'm not giving to your attempts. There is nothing to get." 

He smiled, holding out his hand. "George Seresin. There, not a stranger."

Well, shit.

You wanted to hang your mouth open like a fish. You were staring down Jake's brother.

Now you understood Jake's reaction to Janet's warning. His anxious behaviour in the back of his truck. His lost-in-thought stares or the way he couldn't stop looking at you and Sadie when he came home from work this week.

George Seresin was a very unwelcome, uninvited and long-awaited guest.

Something snapped in your stomach, a twinge of weariness that Jake didn't confide in you. Then again, your slight disappointment was overshadowed by something greater.

Clearly, you were fated to ego-check both Seresin brothers while standing behind this bar. Because the idea came without warning, without doubt, or any sense of hesitancy. 

George Seresin was at the Hard Deck.

He was right in front of you, trying to flirt with you without any idea who you were. 

And he was sitting in the best spot in the entire place.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You stepped backwards, turning to lean up against the bar. As you did with Jake all those months ago, you took the rag and started to wipe.

"So let me get this straight," you said, dragging the damp cloth around his glass, not once looking up. "I tell you my name in some effort to prove we are not strangers. I'm supposed to forget about your 'comments,' so you can use that good old Texas charm to woo me into your bed with a promise of a good time?"

You finally looked up, George only staring back at you with a heated smoulder.

"Something tells me none of those loose cannons cannot even promise you a good time. A quick roll in the sheets before they let some brass monkey in a fancy suit tell them where to shoot. You look like you could let loose for once in your life."

You froze, losing your grip on the rag and fingers twitching. Scanning Jake’s brother, you leaned against the bar, resting your weight on your elbows, throwing the fabric over your shoulder as you got inside his bubble. You never once broke eye contact as you pinned him down.

George bought it, hook, line and sinker. He was so focused on you and your face that he was oblivious to everything and everyone around him, including how your hand slowly reached up toward the rope hanging from the top of the bar.

The second he looked at your lips, you tugged.

Cheers and music flooded the Hard Deck when everyone heard the distinct ring of the barbell. You guessed the song right away, old habits dying hard.  Slow Ride, its distinct beat letting you know Jake was here and he had seen the whole thing.

George reeled back, shocked as a few people came up and slapped him on the back, thanking him. You laughed softly at his reaction, pushing yourself away to help the few customers you knew who would take advantage of the free drink.

You had never rang the bell for someone like him. George Seresin would be the only exception.

"What the hell just happened?" he called after you. You didn't bother turning around, flinging your hand to gesture over your head, "Read the sign!"

George followed the direction of your hand, landing on the piece of wood dangling by the silver chain.

You disrespect a lady, the navy, or you put your cell phone on the bar, you buy a round.

You had already helped a few customers when he managed to tear his eyes away to glare at you heatedly. You turned to face him with a gleeful grin. Instead of asking him which one he thought you rang him out for, you started teasingly singing along to the chorus.

You hadn't done that in a while. It felt good.

"What did he do to warrant that?" 

You smiled up at Jake as he approached the bar. He never took his eyes off you as he leaned on his elbow against the top of the bar beside George. 

"What do you think?" you laughed at him.

Jake smirked. "I'd say he didn't take no for an answer."

"He did a little more than that. Tell him to put his cell phone on the bar, and he'd get three out of three."

"Ouch," Jake dramatically drawled. He finally turned his head, nodding once in his brother's direction. "Hi, Georgie." 

You stiffed a giggle. 

George huffed, jutting his chin out in your direction. "This one is trouble."

"Don't I know it," Jake said, looking back at you. "Pulled the same trick on me the first time I met her. Only she didn't ring the bell. Guess I did something right, considering she let me come back."

George glanced between you and Jake several times, and you could see the gears grinding in his head. 

"Hi," you beamed at him, walking over and holding out your hand. "Elizabeth Beck. Your brother's girlfriend. I guess we aren't strangers after all."

George stared down at your hand, then gritting his teeth, knocking back another gulp of whiskey. He spat out his following words with the glass still to his lips, "So you are real. Jake, there's no way you're dating her."

 You didn't try to hide the snark from your voice as you lowered your hand. "You thought I was imaginary? Sorry to disappoint."

George still chose to ignore you. "What's the matter, little brother? Need your girlfriend to speak for you?"

Jake stiffened, and it took everything in you not to ring the bell once more. Cause you knew if you did, Jake would be the one to help throw George out, and you didn't know what repercussions he could face.

"At least he has a girlfriend," you scoffed. "I can't imagine you've ever had a meaningful relationship with how you treat women."

You spied his empty whiskey glass, grabbing it firmly.

"Wham."

Sliding it across the bar's smooth surface, you caught it in the palm of your other hand.

"Bam."

Reaching into the pocket of your apron with your free hand, you slapped his bill down in front of him, rounds and all, attempting your best version of a Texan accent.

"Thank you, Mam."

Not wanting to waste more time on him, you turned to Jake, slightly worried. Some of you didn't know how to act around Jake when he was like this. When he was so... Hangman.

You gently touched his wrist, murmuring softly, "I'll see you in a half hour?"

He twisted his arm in your grasp, sliding his hand down so he could gently squeeze yours. But his eyes screamed a different, intense, unsettling story. As if he was assessing you for any threat.

"Sure."

You tried not to let it bother you, his non-chalent reply. Trying not to frown, you let go of his wrist to serve another customer, calling out as you walked away, "It was nice meeting you, Georgie!"

Jake watched you go with a slight turn of his head, proud you one-upped his brother but wishing you didn't leave him alone.

He knew why George was here. What he wanted him to do. No amount of smirk, cockiness, or even Hangman, could save Jake from this. George was the grave reminder that no matter where the Navy sent him, whether in California or on the other side of the world, there was no end to the metaphorical leash the 'hell bringer' had on both of his sons. 

George scraped his chair back to stand. "Come on, little brother," he gruffed out, tossing his credit card onto the bar. "We need to have a chat."

—-

With Ridley's Jean jacket in hand and your bag, you placed them on the bar as you greeted Jimmy after finishing your shift. "Can you watch these for a second, Jimmy? I'm just going to the bathroom before I find Jake. We're going to pick Sadie up from Penny's and take her out for dinner."

The older man smiled. "She's feeling better?"

You nodded. "Mild concussion. She was okay after a few days and back at school. Bummed about not being able to play in soccer playoffs, though. Hence the trip."

"That girl loves her soccer. What a shame."

"Jake's is making it easier on her. I don't know what I would do without him."

He tilted his head towards the bathroom hall with a knowing grin. "Go get ready for your date."

You blushed, walking away, calling over your shoulder, "It's not a date!"

After freshening yourself up, you took a few moments to stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You saw the famous callsign board hanging on the wall behind you. You scanned the names from the mirror, looking for Jake's, doing a double take when you couldn’t find it. You turned, properly facing the wall.  

Like the sign in the bar, it was a piece of wood with the words engraved into the top, “Ladies Beware: Navigate the Hard Deck with Care!” and underneath that, “Pilots who fly solo.” Several metal slots were glued to the surface, designed so she could easily slide plastic slate with a pilot’s callsign into place. 

You recognized a few, even Rooster's, though his was listed way further down, out of harm’s way. But Jake's was nowhere to be found. 

Then you realized - Penny had taken his name off.

She didn't do that for a lot of people. You could only recall one other instance when she removed a pilot's callsign from that board. She prided herself on it, so much so she never removed Maverick's at the top of the list, even after they got back together.

You needed to tell Jake. 

With a hint of a smile, you eagerly walked out of the bathroom to find him. He was standing with George at the pool table, the elder Seresin brother lining up a shot as he spoke. As you approached them, you honed in on Jake, realizing he looked uncomfortable. Stiff, shoulders square, and his fists were clenched tight.

The closer you got, the more you heard of their conversation, and when you heard Sadie's name fall from George's mouth, you froze. Hearing him utter her name, especially in that hardened tone, was a punch to the gut. The urge to hide behind one of the support pillars in the middle of the room at the last second was too great to ignore, and you made yourself as small as possible. 

You had stumbled upon a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. George’s voice accompanied the sound of the eight-ball scattering the balls across the table. 

"Come on, man," he said, his tone laced with arrogance. "Think about it. She threw her whole life away for her niece. She's tied down now, and you deserve someone who can give you more than that."

Jake remained silent. George continued, encouraged by his lack of protest. "You're a Navy pilot, for crying out loud. You could have anyone you want. Why settle for a girl with so much baggage?"

You weren’t stupid. You knew enough about George to realize he was the golden child, the favourite used to getting his way. George would only see you as Jake’s attempt to one-up him on something. 

“You know why I'm here,” you heard him say firmly. “Dad doesn’t approve. He wants you to know if you continue on with her, you will never be welcomed back home.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your stomach. There would never be a time when you asked Jake to choose you over his family, even with what you knew. You wanted to go out there, but this was Jake’s battle. Storming out to threaten anything but a kick to the balls was out of the question. 

But when Jake finally spoke, his words were like shards of ice piercing your skin.

"Yeah, you're right."

A strangled noise escaped from you, a sound of raw pain and disbelief. You clapped your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle the sob threatening to escape. George’s reply triggered the blood rushing through your ears, the pain in your forearm from your nails biting hard into the skin. 

“You know I am,” he laughed, another clack of the pool balls sounding out. “

There was only one way you saw this - Jake played you like he played those other bartenders. 

You couldn’t hide any longer. You pushed yourself away from the pillar, swerving around to confront them. 

“So Sadie and I were just a game to you?” 

Jake turned sharply, shock in his eyes. “Liz,” he held his hands out in front of him. “It’s not what…” 

“Not what?” you said heatedly, tears streaming from your eyes. “I heard plenty!” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, confronted with your beat red face and tears. You were not supposed to hear all that. 

The shock on his face was not enough to erase the sting of his words.

"Come on, Liz. You don't understand... it's..."

"What's there to understand, Jake?" you interjected, your voice seething with a volatile mix of pain and anger. "That I'm just another one of your bartenders?"

“Liz, don’t.” 

“Enlighten me, Jake.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me all the reasons why. That bringing me flowers wasn’t a game. That getting close to my niece wasn’t a game. Asking me to give you a chance, taking me out on a date.”

 You sobbed. “Taking me up in that damn plane.” 

The thought was erupt, tearing itself from the deepest part of your mind. You couldn’t help it, the words spilling out in blinded anger. “Was my grief an opportunity for you to get into my pants? Telling me it would be alright so you could leave me high and dry? Telling me it was going to be okay?” 

There was a sudden shift in his expression, his gaze hardening. As if a switch had been flipped, the warm, understanding man you knew disappeared, replaced by a stranger draped in defensiveness and sarcasm.

"Oh, excuse me," he declared. "I didn't realize I was your knight in shining armour, rushing to your rescue the second you need all your problems fixed. The girl who never had a relationship, thinking a man would solve all her issues."

The words hit you like a physical blow, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Jake's harsh gaze didn't match his usual soft and protective demeanour. It was like looking at a stranger, someone you didn't recognize. The man before you was not the Jake you'd fallen for.

This man reminded you of your father. 

Was this his plan all along? You racked your mind, searching for any indication this had been coming. But what only stood out was Rooster's words echoing in your head where you found none. 

Did you really only add your name to the list of women Hangman had pursued?

Because here and now, those months of working through the trauma of losing Ridley didn't matter. 

Was anything about this past year even worth it? The moments you worked through when you would avoid anyone mentioning her because acknowledging her in the past tense was too much. Avoiding the things that reminded you of her. Till helped you through it.  

She would know what to say right now. She would be the one beating his ass with verbiage and scathing remarks. She would nail the moment and get it right. 

It hit you, the hidden weight of how desperately you missed her. 

Suddenly, you were that girl again, starting her first shift in that basement bar, wondering what to say to the students who saw you as a mere bookworm with no character or class - because you couldn't compare to the girl sitting in the corner writing her paper, actually having the courage to ask that busboy out. 

Or the geeks in the corner cheering as hard as they did when they beat their high score on the console, uncaring of strange looks. Or that girl, finally standing up to her 'so-called friends' when one had been spreading rumours and crude remarks about her to the others behind her back. 

He really did leave you out to dry. 

"Stay the fuck away from my niece," you managed to gasp through your tears. "And stay the fuck away from me."

You wanted to believe your assumption that Jake was merely putting on a front. Hangman, his alternate self, was his attempt at protecting himself. 

You had a hard time doing so.

There, plain as day, across his face was the most condensing grin you had ever seen as he dramatically drawled out slowly, "No fucking problem, sweetheart."

You didn't believe in thinking about everything you regretted throughout your life. Ridley was the only exception; if you had done more, moved back home after school, or gone to the police the day you kicked Tyler out, maybe she'd still be here. You couldn't change what had happened in your life, so spending time thinking about it in the present wouldn't do you much good. 

So it was no surprise to you when you followed through with your knee-deep reaction, your hand coming up out of nowhere, open and firm, slapping Jake hard enough across the side of his face, his head turning with the force of it.

You knew you shouldn't have. You weren't a violent person by any means. Next to Tyler, you never had raised a hand to anyone. You were too hurt to care you just slapped him.

That should have scared you shitless.

Rather than voice the obvious, you remained silent, allowing every repressed thought, every buried emotion to resurface.

Ridley - dead. 

Sadie - hurt. 

Tyler - lurking. 

Bradley - damaging.

It was all too much.

George's figure stood out from behind Jake amongst your blurry vision, tears creating a vignette in your line of sight. You tore past Jake, sticking your finger out only to push George square in his chest. He stepped back at the force, hand shooting out to balance himself against the pool table.

Jake wouldn't have done that had George not shown up. Had he not played with Jake's emotions.

"You need a fucking ego check and to grow the fuck up," you seethed at him. "I don't know whose got your balls on a very tight leash, but you have no right to go around and fucking up other people's relationships."

George didn't answer you, taking his hand off the table to stand properly. You pressed him again. "Does it give you some sick fucking pleasure to hurt your brother? Dad loves me best, so I'm going to remind everyone just cause I can?"

George was still avoiding your heated glare, fixating on his football ring, twisting the piece of metal back and forth. It only pissed you off further.

"My eyes are over here, Jackass! Have the decency to look me in the fucking eyes when I'm talking to you."

If nobody had been watching when you slapped Jake, you clearly had their attention now. Even with the music blasting from the speakers, every conversation in the Hard deck had gone quiet. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but you couldn't care less.

You were too far gone.

George slowly cocked his head to face you. Your breath was harsh, your body jolting with each gasp as you gave in to the anger. "My sister died, and I took in my niece. What's so fucking wrong about that? That I threw my life away, that I have no future?" 

He shifted on his feet, about to transfer the pool stick into his other hand, when you reached out and snatched it out of his grasp, tossing it behind you with a clack. 

"You're damn right I did! That's what you do for people you love. I would sacrifice my entire life so she could have hers. And I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat. I will stay on the other side of that bar for the rest of my so-called miserable life, getting catcalled and dealing with assholes like you if it gives her the best shot with the shitty hand she's dealt. You, George Seresin, have no right to judge the choices I've made in my life." 

Your breathing was harsh, ribs aching with effort. Every vein, every pore, was consumed with pure white rage. And yet, you still found yourself growling out, "You have no right judging your brothers either." 

Even after breaking your heart, you still stood up for Jake. 

"He risks his life every single time he goes up in that jet just so the whole world can fucking survive. So you can go on day in and day out and let your father control what you want to do with your life. So you can gallant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours? So Jake’s here for you to bully and control every time he comes home? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The burning sensation in your cheeks mirrored the fire in your eyes, unshed tears making them shine brighter. The salty sting of tears blurring your vision did little to diminish the searing gaze you levelled at George.

"My sister believed everyone deserved a chance. That people cared, regardless of what they did or who they were. I had forgotten that until my niece invited Jake to a barbeque, till she invited him on a hike because he was being treated differently. Despite what I heard and everyone telling me otherwise, listing off why I shouldn’t. That he will hurt me and my niece, and I still gave him a chance.”  

Squaring your shoulders and balling your hands to fists at your side, you take a step forward, a dangerous glint in your eyes. You lean towards him, your face close enough to feel his breath, your jaw clenched and muscles tight.  

"You are the first person ever to prove my sister wrong,” your voice is dangerously low, underlying anger accompanying each word. “You sure as hell don't deserve that sentiment." 

As you stepped away, George lifted his head to glance around the room, everyone's eyes pinning him down. The older Top Gun instructors had stood at their tables and chairs, arms crossed. Some of the current students in the program also stood, the others sending him the most scathing glares they could manage. Even some regulars who weren't aviators were casting him a scornful glance.

You spun, ready to leave him in embarrassment and escape this literal fucking mess, when you caught Jake's bewildered gaze, his mouth hanging open in slight shock.

You weren't sure whether it was that look or the dying embers of your outburst that made you spin back around to snarl, "So, leave your brother the fuck alone! Live your own goddamn life without judging others for the choices they make! Cause you sure as hell don't know what it means to sacrifice something for those you love. If you need an example, look around this goddamn room."

Jake reached for your wrist as you charged toward the front door. The second you felt his touch, you shook your hand loose, a wrenching sob tearing through your chest.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

You didn't bother seeing his reaction to your remark, rushing to grab your bag and Ridley's jean jacket off the bar.

The skin around your wrist burned from his touch, the rough callouses once a comfort but now felt like coarse sandpaper. You wanted to get under a shower or jump in the sea, hoping to remove the feeling of every memory, kiss, and word.

God, you let him touch you. Do things with you.

You were going to throw up.

God forbid you didn't want to walk home. But you needed to go, be anywhere but here, and you didn't have your car. Barely keeping it together as you took off toward the door, you had half a mind to look up to watch where you were going, deaf to Jake's shouts of your name.

There was Bradley, sitting in the first booth by the door. His brow furrowed as you made your way over to him, probably having witnessed the ordeal. You were too upset even to question why he wasn't marching across the bar, ready to knock Jake to next Sunday.

It had been weeks since the fight, with no communication in between. But it was a distant memory compared to this. 

It didn't matter what he implied. It didn't matter what happened in your hallway.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

You just needed your friend.

With each step you took toward him, your shame only grew greater. You couldn't even look him in the eye when you stopped, standing next to his side of the booth, hugging yourself tighter.

"Can you take me home, Bradley? I don't want to be here anymore."

Bradley's opportunity to act smug had finally arrived. But he didn't do anything other than frown. Standing up from his booth, he threw a few bills onto the table before blocking everyone's view of you. He placed a comforting hand on your back, gently pressing you forward as he uttered quietly, "Of course I can, Liz."

You kept your head down as you stepped towards the door, but Bradley, so willing to help you without so much of an 'I told you so,' made whatever resolve you had, crumble. Your knees wobbled, and your heart dropped into your stomach. You fell, and Bradley's arm whipped out, gripping your hip and pulling you tight to his side to support your weight.

Burying your head into Bradley's shoulder, you hid your face. You didn't want to see the looks of everyone in the Hard Deck, whether pity, concern, or applause, as another wave of tears wrecked your body.

Closing your eyes seemed better than reliving the truth.

And because you kept them shut, you didn't see George place a hand on Jake's shoulder, preventing him from going after you. Nor did you see the look of devastation wreck his face; the weight of every wrong decision he had ever made coming back to haunt him. 

Whether Jake turned on a dime to punch George square in the jaw, you heard none of it. You hadn't even bothered to turn back to look as Bradley carried you out the front door.

.... So... Who is going to pitchfork me first? 👀

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Part 16 - In the Blood coming soon

Wickett ;)

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[slasher-dasher]

Vincent

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Starry, starry night

Candles lit up the area around him, flickering like the stars he hadn’t seen in who knows how many days now. The smell of wax invaded his nostrils more than usual as he poured the melted material over his latest piece of art. Bo had delivered her to the workshop himself, stomping down the steps with the proudest smile on his face before leaving her in the care of his twin.

Flaming flowers that brightly blaze

Vincent wasn’t sure if she had passed out or had suffocated from the hardening wax around her face, but he did notice that at some point she had closed her eyes. It was a shame. Vincent had liked the way her hazel eyes danced like the candlelight, flicking between his face and the brush in his hands. She had tried to reach for it at first. Not in an attempt to escape, but in an attempt to get his attention. Vincent tilted his head, taking in every detail he could as she tried to speak. The colors in her iris exploded in a pattern that made him think of sunflowers. His mother always loved that painting.

Swirling clouds in violet haze

He carried the weight of two titles, both passed onto him by his mother. Artist. One that was semi-forced into his blood. He liked watching her swirl the wax in her molds, delicately carving them to seamlessly match the rest of her sculptures. How many times had Vincent wished she would look at her children like those sculptures? He remembered the day she put a brush in his hand after he had pointed at her tools. It hadn’t ended well. Shaking his head, he brought his attention back to the girl on his table. The artist ran his brush over a fresh, purple bruise on her wrist, hiding the imperfection from any ghostly prying eyes.

Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue

Vincent. After Van Gogh himself, his mother’s favorite artist. She had always adored art while growing up, but his paintings always inspired her to create when there was no other option. And here he was, continuing her legacy while starting his own. Bo had worked out the plan years before the boys found their way back to Ambrose, never stopping until he found the two again. Maybe the name was fitting. Two men with loving brothers who, deep down, knew they would do anything for. Two tragic artists with no one to listen to them. Two people with the same name, same signature, same occupation, in separate times. Vincent found it ironic.

Colors changing hue

The artist placed his tools on the rolling shelf nearby, taking a match to light some of the lesser-used candles. Waterfalls of wax dripped onto the floor, pooling at his feet with a few rusty nails he had yet to shove into another makeshift clock. While the wax dried, he gently moved her wrists and ankles into the restraints on the worktable, careful not to break the layers he’d already worked on. This was a rare sight for him. Someone who hadn’t tried to fight from the moment she came to town, just accepting that there just so happened to be a wax museum not far from where her car had broken down. It was obvious his twin hadn’t done much before bringing her down here, at most he had wrapped her wrists a little too tightly in that wretched chair before he glued her lips together. Lips that had become pale and chapped from the chill of the basement, now full of faux life again. All because of his craft. Vincent pulled a small tube of lipstick from the girl’s bag, another rare sight since Bo usually took them for the wallet before getting rid of them. The tube was set aside to be put in a much smaller batch of wax to be melted later. He would honor her color choice, it was common enough to do so.

Morning fields of amber grain

The sculpture’s eyes shot open again as a fresh layer of hot wax poured onto her torso, untouched by the substance until now. They scanned the room in a panic, realization finally setting in as the flowers in her eyes became blurry with tears. The extra light made the green halos around the edge of her iris appear almost yellow, distorting them further as the flames danced. Vincent worked quickly now, muscle memory taking over as he just tried to get this over with. His method worked, he knew this, but it still shocked him how fast pain and adrenaline could cancel each other out in the human mind. She took a few deep, desperate breaths from under the wax face, feeling hot rushes of air that did little to soothe her fear. Her eyes shot to Vincent, pleading and full of life that was snuffed out far too fast for his liking. They closed, hidden from the world for the moment, and he instinctively lowered his head.

Weathered faces lined in pain

Sleep deprivation was starting to get to him just as the heavy doors of the museum crashed open again, followed by familiar loud barking. Dinner time. Lester had likely been sent to get him, which meant Bo was in a bad mood. Then again, Jonesy wouldn’t be with him at this time if he didn’t already have food in tow. Vincent guided his hand over the girl’s eyes, opening them one last time now that they couldn’t be closed again. The artist sighed, taking off his apron to hang on a spare hook before climbing the stairs into the museum. He glanced around at his artwork, some of the newer additions glancing back at him. Vincent guided his hand over each sculpture, wondering if they knew how important they were to this town. A happy bark brought him out of his trance, not realizing he had accidentally cracked the wax of the man as he jumped. Jonesy happily trotted up to him, wagging her tail as he leaned down to pet her before following her to where Lester stood, admiring the House of Wax in all its unsung glory. The trio made their way back to their rundown home, Vincent dragging his fingers across the heavy wax door as he locked it in a silent promise to return.

Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.

Song - Vincent by Don McLean

#vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher #slasher community #slasher writer #slashers #slasher fucker #slasher fanfiction #slasher fic #song fic #slasher fandom #slasher movies #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[alreadyjackbestfriend]

Can you write something about Jack having severe writers block, and the reader does something nice to get his mind off of it? 

writer´s block

A/N: heeyy, thank you for your request <3 sorry for taking so long, hope you like it!

***

Jack has been trying, really trying to write past the three verses he's accomplished in the last few days, none of them bearing any relation to the other.

He had put out his latest album a few months ago, and now found himself on a tour break, so there was really no rush, but he had never gone so long without writing something, the last time he had been able to finish something worthy of a song was 2 months ago... exactly the last night that he saw you.

As he ran his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his clouded mind, his cell phone vibrated on the desk. Jack looked at the screen, his heart skipped a beat as a smile appeared on his face, his cheeks filled with tender warmth, all of that just by reading your name.

“hi, gorgeous” he said immediately after accepting the call.

“hey, Jack” your sweet voice made him smile even more if that was possible, even causing his cheeks to hurt a little.

“to what do I owe the pleasure of you calling me?”

you and jack were almost new to each other, only a couple of months of knowing each other; long talks, a lot of flirting and a couple of kisses, but nothing official. but he was so drawn to you, you could put a smile on his face just by reading your name, you could make his heart race just by hearing your voice.

“a little birdie told me that you’ve been really stressed”

he chuckled, though it seemed more like a sigh. just a few days ago the new year had started and the whole team had at least a few weeks of vacation, so the only one who knew about his condition was urban, who was the only one who had seen him in the last few days locked in his home studio.

“that little birdie is gonna get his ass kicked”

He heard you gasp, “why?! he just wanted to help, and so do I”

“oh, so it’s a “he””

“fuck you jack, you know it was urban”

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back. he probably hadn't laughed since New Year's Eve. he couldn't see you, but you smiled hugely, you knew what you said wasn't that funny, so his laugh meant only one thing: he really liked you.

“so, do you have an hour for me?” you asked, and he raised a brow.

“mmm let me see…” he teased, and he heard you sigh, making him laugh again, “you know I always have time for you”

"That's great, because otherwise I would have to go back home, and it would be very disappointing" you said, behind him. Jack turned around in surprise, and saw you smile with the phone still attached to your ear, but you quickly put it down and ended the call.

"how...?" he asked, surprised.

"The little birdie…" you replied, feeling brave enough to sit on his lap, and he rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"mmm, now that I think about it, I guess I won't kick the birdie's ass anymore"

you laughed out loud, while he admired you. once you stopped laughing, you looked back at him, your faces extremely close. he put his hand on your chin, and with a short movement he brought your lips together. You heard a contented sound escape his throat and you smiled in the middle of the kiss, but you stopped having control of the situation once Jack put his hand on your thigh, making you sigh, you could feel the warmth of his skin even through your clothes.

"You're amazing", he said, making you smile again, "I can already feel the verses floating in my mind"

you giggled at his words, "I'm very flattered, but my main mission was to be able to distract you a bit"

"Oh, you are," Jack replied, trying to kiss you again, but you pulled away, causing his lips to pout and his eyebrows to draw together in disappointment.

"I have something for you" you said, giving him a little peck and taking his hand, both of you went up to the first floor, since the home studio was in the basement, and you led Jack towards the living room

Urban had let you in, and left right after, leaving the place at your disposal. It didn't take long, since a large part of everything you’ll need you had prepared at home. Urban had left the light dim, just as you asked, you just had to put a couple of candles in some places, and then put a tablecloth above the carpet, next to the basket, and then you emptied it, filling the tablecloth with snacks, and a bottle of a fruit liqueur.

It was an indoor picnic, obviously it would have been better to do it in the backyard, but it was impossible, unless the goal was to freeze to death, so you improvised something similar. In addition to the candles, Jack had a fireplace, which was perfect for the occasion.

You knew that it was a much more romantic setting than what you and Jack had shared before, which were usually conversations and kisses in hidden places at some parties, so you were nervous, but you hoped that Jack would take it well.

You watched him carefully while he looked at what you had prepared for him, and after a few seconds that felt like hours, he got you close to him, giving you a tender kiss.

"I love it, thank you"

you sighed with relief, giving him a smile.

"Why the sigh?" he asked curiously, sitting on the tablecloth, copying your movements. you thought for a moment about what to say.

"I was nervous" you decided to admit.

"why?" he replied, truly confused.

"I didn't know if..." you cleared your throat, "maybe this was too much? I know we're not a couple and..." in the middle of your chatter, you saw him smile, "what?"

"nothing" he said, still smiling.

"jack" you said, looking at him seriously.

"I was just thinking how cute you are" he said, and you blushed, making him smile even more, "this is perfect, y/n, you didn't have to be nervous"

"I'm glad you liked it" you said sincerely.

Jack didn't say anything else, he just approached your lips again, and what started as a tender kiss escalated quickly, leaving you lying on the ground, with Jack on top of you. between the heat of the fireplace and jack's body, you began to feel that the heat consumed you.

"jack, we haven't even touched the food" you said, between kisses

"I'm not hungry"

"And I only asked for an hour of your time," you said, raising an eyebrow. he stopped kissing you and looked at you smirking.

"Let's make it five" he replied, kissing you again.

"Jack!" you said, between his lips and your laughter.

"I'm going to write a lot of songs after this anyway"

#jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow one shot #jack harlow fluff

[yanxidarlings]

Hello there! I don't know if the inbox is open but could I request the Nordics (separate) with a darling (romantic) who just keeps questioning why they chose them of all people as they continue to try and leave them? Thank you and have a wonderful day!

INSECURITY: NORDICS

DENMARK

matthias honestly see's his darlings insecurity as fishing for compliments - normally he would shower them in verbal affection, especially if asked, but assuming that this is just after getting caught trying to escape, he's a bit pissed. "i don't know, i could probably find someone better couldn't i" yes this little shit is using his darlings moment of self consciousness as manipulative ammunition.

his darling is probably crushed at his words, matthias feels a bit bad seeing how their face falls, but it's for the best. if things go as planned, his darling will start to put more effort into the 'relationship', and stops trying to escape.

or his darling could completely shy away from him after hearing his words, smart decision, darling, if he see's how dejected they are, matthias is going to feel really bad.

he didn't mean it, min elskede!, he was just in a bad mood, it's like when you're feeling insecure and try to up and leave!. please forgive him.

it's best not to drag this out any further, and take the apology and pampering, lest matthias starts to think his darling is attempting to manipulate him, and believe me, you do not want to entirely loose his trust.

NORWAY

lukas wonders the exact same thing sometimes. he really tried to shake his obsession, it's not like he wants to be so attached to his darling but he is.

he doesn't answer his darling initially, too busy enchanting the basement to keep them from trying to escape again. this likely puts his already distressed darling on the edge, and might lead them to think he's decided to dispose of them when he doesn't come and visit for the next week.

the darlings words linger in lukas's mind; if he hadn't already kidnapped them, he might have tried to distance himself from them and focus on his responsibilities as a big brother and a country (to no avail), but he can't risk his darling going off and telling everyone about what he had done, so, in that week he decides to put his darling out of their misery.

finally, after a week, he re-emerges into the basement, with a tray of food in his hands, his darling is soiled and starving at this point, so they don't fight back when he hand feeds them the love potion infused fiskesuppe.

FINLAND

tino's heart just about breaks upon hearing his darlings words - it all makes sense now! his darling does love him, they just struggle with insecurities, that he clearly desperately needs to address.

so, if his darling doesn't like physical affection, verbal affection or being smothered, they just made the stupidest decision of their life; tino now dedicates his days to boosting his darlings self esteem. best to go along with his self love boot cam, he'll forget all previous grievances.

but assuming 10 hours of standing naked in front of a mirror complimenting themselves just creeps them out, and they still want to escape from tino's clutches; they once again try to leave when the chance presents itself.

finland goes absolutely insane, no one can calm him down when he realises his darling isn't home when he returns from the latest world meeting - after all he did for them? were they even being sincere or was it all another ploy to escape?! throw all previous trust out the window, once he gets his darling back he's going full tiger mum.

SWEDEN

"who made you think this" berwalds instantly ready to throw hands, start a war, go viking mode. it's simply incomprehensible to him that his darling doesn't adore themselves as much as he adores them.

it must be someone's elses poisonous words corrupting his darling self image, probably denmark, or maybe prussia, germany and austria, or it could be-

if berwald hadn't kidnapped his darling yet, expect to wake up in his house the next morning - clearly his darling is being horridly abused by the people they surround themselves with to think that they aren't worthy of love.

whilst he wasn't planning on pursuing a romantic relationship with his darling, and was content in his position as their guardian angel, if it's what he thinks they need, he'll do whatever he must to ensure their wellbeing.

ICELAND

here we have the angsty teenager, who immediately takes it as his darling mocking him. fine! be that way, he didn't even like them that much to begin with (lies). once he realises how immature he's being, he panics.

did he just ruin his entire relationship with his darling over his own insecurity? emil screams into his pillow when it occurs to him that his darling was being sincere. even if they weren't, he couldn't stay away from them for that long. if he wasn't already stalking them, he's picked up the habit now: they hate him so how else is he to get his fill of them?.

after a few months of being estranged, emil works up the courage to make amends. but it isn't the same, his beloved is on edge, they don't trust him like they used to. it drives him to absolute insanity loosing the closeness he once had with his darling.

he doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, he just follows and watches them in a desperate attempt to get close to them again.

eventually, his brothers get concerned, lukas can't stand to see his baby brother so distressed, so he does what all good brothers do and puts icelands darling under a love potion. to emils horror. at first he thinks they've come around, but is quick to become suspicious of the sudden affection he's receiving.

emil will demand lukas undo the love potion, when his darling is back to their senses he's so embarrassed, he stutters apologies, as the door opens.

norway walks in with a suitcase, "here's all their stuff" "WHAT"

isn't norway a great big brother kidnapping icelands darling for him.

GREENLAND

way to reinforce kunuk's belief that he and his darling are soulmates, reader. just when he thinks his darling can't get any more perfect for him, they say this. it's kinda disturbing to see the heart eyes he gives them as they pour out their heart to him, probably sobbing too.

he immediately counters with his own belief that he isn't good enough for his darling, but he loves them so much that he's gotten past that to bring them together (kidnap them).

if anything his darling made him more attached to them, he goes from being attached at the hip with them to being their conjoined twin; if kunuk wasn't open with them before, he sure as hell is now. if he was, all boundries between him and his darling fade at this point.

kunuk also uses his darlings insecurity as a way to isolate them from others; no one understands them like he does, as no one understands him as they do, so what's the point of going to america's birthday bash when he and his darling could stay home and cuddle?

#yandere hetalia #yandere nordics #yandere denmark #yandere norway #yandere sweden #yandere iceland #yandere greenland #yandere finland #yandere aph denmark #yandere aph greenland #yandere aph sweden #yandere aph norway #yandere aph iceland #yandere aph finland #yandere hws #hws #hetalia #aph #aph headcanons #my headcanons #hws denmark #hws sweden #hws norway #hws greenland #hws finland #hws iceland #included a greenland oc in this one lemme know if i should keep including him

[avatarmerida]

Girlfriend Material

Mini sequel to this

———

Hunter was beyond excited to give Willow his latest creation. He had truly outdone himself this time, consulting multiple books, blogs, and online tutorials. He had pricked his fingers so much that each one was now graced with a colorful bandage to attest to his dedication. Most of it he had done by hand, working well into the night to make sure it was done before the week was over. There was no special occasion that the gift was for, but the anticipated look on Willow’s face was motivation enough.

When Gus left the basement to “get a drink of water” and have Hunter a dramatic wink to signify he would not be returning, Hunter leapt up from the couch to retrieve her gift from his sewing station. When he called her name to show her, her jaw dropped.

“Oh my Titan, Hunter it’s stunning!” Willow exclaimed, jumping from her seat and rushing over to take his creation in her arms. It was the Emerald Entrails signature color, lightweight with a quilted texture and “Park” in large letter across the back and a small bee patch on the end of the sleeve to represent Clover. She admired every stitch, every detail, every part of the jacket an unmistakable indication that it could be made for no one else by her by no one else but Hunter. She slipped it on, unsurprised that it fit her perfectly. “How do I look?” Willow asked sweetly, twirling around like it was a ball gown.

“Perfect,” said Hunter, excited to see her excited. “As always.”

“Oh my Titan, did you hand stitch this?” Willow exclaimed again, looking at herself in the mirror and spotting “Captain” purposely displayed just above her heart.

“Oh, yeah. But, it was nothing.” he lied, it has been one of the most tedious parts of the project. “I still haven’t showed you the best part!”

“Oh! It has pockets?!” Willow gasped as she put her hands in them, feeling like she was on the cover of Flyer Derby monthly.

“Even better.” Hunter said with a smile.

“Double pockets?!” Willow said with a louder, deep gasp.

“No- well, actually kind of,” he laughed. “It’s reversible.”

Willow gasped once more. “Shut up!”

“It’s true!” Hunter said, feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin in the best way. “See for yourself.”

Willow carefully slipped it off, and found the liner was a lighter green the same color as her eyes and littered with white, wide flowers. As she turned it inside out, she saw there was a matching bee patch resting on the opposite sleeve. And it also had pockets! How did a jacket manage to capture every part of her so perfectly?

A true labor of love.

“Hunter thank you so much, I love it.” She lunged forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. “This was so sweet. I’m never taking it off, it’s so comfortable.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, returning her embrace as a wide smile spread across his face. “I’m glad you like it, it was my first time making something with girlfriend material.”

“Wait, what?” Willow asked, taking a step back to look up at him with wide eyes, wondering if she heard him correctly.

“Oh, I wanted it to be extra special so Camila helped me find this fabric, and they had it in two similar colors that both reminded me of you and since I couldn’t decide which one to get, that’s how I got the idea to-.”

“Are you saying my jacket is made of… girlfriend material?” Willow cut him off, giving him a playful eyebrow raise. She was able to connect his interpretation of the fabric’s name with her attempt to flirt with him last week. Never had she been so grateful for a misunderstanding.

“Um, yeah? But I don’t know if-.” Before he could finish explaining that that might not be the technical name of the fabric, Willow took him by the hand and was pulling him up the stairs. “Uh, where are we going?”

“I’m going to show everyone my new favorite jacket and I need you to tell them what it’s made of.”

#huntlow #winter toh #willow park #Hunter toh #toh #huntlow fanfiction #the owl house #my fanfiction

[avvail-whumps]

Hi!

I loved your latest chps of guns of hire. Can you write something in Roy's Pov? Especially what happened between chp 21 and 22. Kind of like what was his reaction and what his did/say to others. Even if it's in Joey's Pov or omniscient . I just want to know what was going on when Leo passed out.

Also I'm comparatively new to tumblr so idk much stuff. If any mistake happened from my side. I truly apologize. 🙂

When Leo sagged unceremoniously in his embrace, Roy felt a twinge of something, akin to annoyance, worm it’s way into his chest. He could feel his blood soaking into his gloved hand, trembling body losing all of its strength, and got to work lowering him down onto the ground.

Leo went down like a rag doll, his legs curled awkwardly under him and his body twisted into Roy’s chest.

The mercenary hummed, keeping him close as he stared at the matted blond hair under his chin, having almost lost the golden colour it had when he’d first saw him. He brushed it back, eyeing the damp sweat on his clammy forehead, breathing thin and ragged.

He was skin and bones now.

The contract had been a slow five week tale that Roy wasn’t pleased with at all. He’d wanted to put a bullet between his clients eyes simply for his arrogant attitude, and the fact that he’d attempted to weasel his way out of the initial fifty now, fifty after agreement.

Roy didn’t have it in him to deal with people like that. He didn’t think he’d ever had it in him to deal with people to begin with. Most were just money to him anyway. Maybe that was the nature of being a contract killer, but he didn’t care.

His little lion, on the other hand.

That had woven into a completely different story before he could even realise. The distinctive urge to have something, someone, all to himself for his gain and pleasure. The notion that people were little money bags with value by their head didn’t seem to resonate for Leo.

Roy hadn’t intended to keep him alive to begin with.

What had been the point? The secretary was never meant to be in that building to begin with — his client had wanted Jacob dead, and Roy planned efficiently to make that happen. His contracts weren’t meant to go awry, but the unpredictability always got his adrenaline going.

That terrified, tear filled look on his face when he’d walked out of the office had burned itself into his mind. His little pleading voice and the way he’d hesitantly obey when he was asked. Some people were a pretty picture when they had a gun to their head. The secretary had been no exception.

He knew it would have been easy to extract any information he needed out of him when he was securing him tightly to the chair in the basement. It frustrated him a little to have to put in some extra work that was above what he was payed, but he finished his contract regardless. Leo was a loose end he just needed to tie up, and he’d been wanting to use his brass knuckles for a while.

Blow off some steam, maybe.

It was a little surprising that Leo had actually been innocent. A bonified “wrong place wrong time”. Roy had shrugged and stored the information away without a second thought.

Oh well. The secretary had seen his face.

The gun was looped securely in his belt as he assured him his story checked out, deciding that he could at least give him a merciful death. Tell him to close his eyes, watch him shiver in anticipation when he pressed the barrel in between his eyes. He might have made a little desperate noise when he realised, but Roy would have been ready to pull the trigger before it could get any further than that.

But then Leo had looked up at him with something like hope in his eyes. Glimmering through the surface, just barely, like a dim fire ready to chew on more fuel. What was it he’d said again?—will you let me go?

It was then he got this thrill. A thrill straight down his spine, adrenaline sparking in his very veins. So he decided to keep him.

There was something about Leo that kept that distinctive thrill going; maybe it was truly because he was pretty when he was in pain, or maybe it was because Roy liked the idea of having something belong to him. Something that was his, and his alone, to make and break. He wanted Leo to know that too. He wanted him to believe it.

The door creaking open jolted him out of his thoughts. He craned his head round to see Joey standing in the doorway. For a man who barely reacted emotionally on his face, he could see the way his eyes widened slightly at the sight of Rafi’s mangled corpse on the ground, and Leo’s rapidly deteriorating condition.

Joey looked almost stunned into silence. “Roy, he’s...” Shuffling of feet became more apparent as the other two joined the scene. Roy ignored them, only interested in his lion. He gently scooped him up, setting him down on the bed.

“What the fuck?” Bran snapped, his jaw clenched and his eyes wide in shock. He was staring at Rafi’s body. Sean, the bearded man, looked distant, but his eyes had hardened inexplicably. “What the fuck, Roy? You fucking killed him.”

The mercenary scoffed lightly under his breath. “He deserved it.”

“He de—” Bran stopped abruptly, raking his hands through his hair. He laughed bitterly, but Roy simply got to work stripping Leo of his shirt, and tossing a silent glance to Joey and Sean. Joey was less hesitant to help than Sean, but regardless, the message was clear.

He dies, and you’re next.

“You psychotic piece of shit,” Bran snarled, anger bubbling over. “Do you think you fucking own us like you do that pathetic thing? That we have to bend to your every will?”

Roy raised a brow. He didn’t bother turning around to face him when he spoke.

“Rafi broke the one rule I gave you all,” he muttered, unable to fight the urge to stroke his finger in the crease of Leo’s brow. He was frowning hard in his state of unconsciousness, grimacing, chest rising and falling with little wheezing puffs of air.

“He ain’t fucking dead, is he?” Bran shouted angrily, hand waving through the air. Joey was fixing up an IV for him, and Sean was standing between them, eyes flickering over to Roy in discontent.

“He’s right,” he grumbled. “Rafi might have taken things too far, but he didn’t kill him.”

Bran was fuming. Practically steaming from the nose. When Roy ignored the comment and continued to admire the pained face on his lion’s features, he blew up.

“For years, we stuck our fuckin’ necks out for you,” Bran snarled, his voice spitting venom. His eyes had flared in a fiery rage. “Rafi too. And that’s how you’re gonna fucking repay us? Repay him? You’re a fucking joke.”

Roy hummed, his lips curving into a small smile. Seeing Rafi ontop of Leo upon entering the room had made him act somewhat irrationally. It had been a split second, a moment of seeing the dying struggles and convulsing body (the one that belonged to him, and only to him), and the gun was in his hand before he had a chance to stop and think.

Even if he had, the conclusion would have been the same. Rafi with a bullet in his head. Maybe it was the possessive urge to keep other people’s hand off of him. Because he’d kept Leo for himself, and no one else.

Roy gave Leo one last glance over, before rising to his feet. He turned and met Bran’s fuming gaze with a cold one of his own.

“Do you want to be next?”

Bran bristled venomously. “Fuck you.”

“Do you think that means anything?” He cut off, his eyes narrowed. “The fact that you took pity on me when I was sixteen? Do you think that makes us friends, Bran? Because I couldn’t care.”

“Of course you fucking don’t,” Bran scoffed. He was shaking his head, fists clenching and shaking. Roy’s gaze didn’t let up. “I’m out of here by the end of the week. I’m done.”

The big man surged out of the door, and with a darkened glare, Roy settled his gaze on the remaining two. “Anyone else?”

Joey looked away, and Sean had his hardened eyes pinned elsewhere. Roy made a huffing sound, and shook his head from side to side in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, and decided to go get some fresh air to clear his thoughts.

The violin he had brought with him was still standing against the wall by the front door. It brought a small smile to his face.

. . .

When he returned back to Leo’s room, he noticed that Rafi’s body was gone. The blood had been mopped and cleaned away, including the beer can and spillage that must have happened during his struggles.

His eyes instantly darted to the bed, where Leo was sleeping away soundly, covers tucked up to his chest. Joey and Sean had treated all his wounds as much as they could, wrapping his ribs and changing old bandages for newer ones.

His hair was still slightly damp, but all the dirt and grime had been washed out.

Roy sat on the edge of the bed, gently tangling his fingers through it. He looked calmer like this. No crease in his brow, no grimace on his face. Roy had missed his little lion while he was away.

A soft keening sound hummed in Leo’s throat, and Roy watched as his eyes dazily flickered open. They were unfocused and hazy, barely able to pry themselves open. Roy felt him stir, and his hand gently carded through his hair.

Leo clumsily looked around for him. “Roy?”

His lips twitched. “I’m here, lion.”

Weak fingers fumbled for his shirt. He shifted a little closer, watching wordlessly as the secretary’s breath quickened, and he weakly tried drawing himself closer.

“Roy...” He whimpered, choking on a tearless sob. “Please, please. Please, don’t go.”

He hummed, his eyes shimmering. He had missed this. As much as he enjoyed when Leo would have a little bit of fire lit up inside of him, the thrill always intensified when he was like this. Clinging onto him, refusing to let go. Begging for him to stay; the way he was so eager to obey him sometimes. Roy was confident that Leo didn’t even realise just how adorable he was at times.

He always reacted so nicely to his touch, leaning into it keenly without even realising, knowing he would only ever get this from him. The thrill surged.

Roy leaned down, gently cradling him into his chest. His lion kept mumbling and murmuring in that soft, broken voice of his, shaking and trembling like a leaf in the wind. He was hardly conscious, but maybe that was what made it so exciting.

“Please don’t leave me...” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Please...”

Roy’s lip twitched into a smirk. “I’m here, lion.”

Leo whined softly. “Don’t go...”

He was dragged back into unconsciousness not a moment later, and Roy gently eased him onto his back once more. He tugged the blanket and duvet over him, stroking the hair from his face with feather light touches.

As his thumb softly stroked the scarred initial on the inside of his wrist, Roy quietly thought to himself, yeah, I’m glad I didn’t kill him.

#guns for hire special #leo and roy request #whump #whump series #whump tropes #whump fic #whump scenario #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whumper #whumpee #leo and roy #multiple whumpers #writing #my writing #ask #guns for hire requests #avvail whumps

[sibillascribbles08]

Wanted to do some sappy nonsense so here's some jasonnie but like, when they become parents.

“That’s everything. That’s everything, right?” Jason paced back and forth on his side of the head office. “Howard, did I miss anything?”

“Umm.” One of the yōkai’s long ears twitched as he looked at the tablet in his smaller pair of hands. “No meetings with interested investors or new partners. Holly Blue handles all financial meetings. The engineer managers are in charge of any new tech presentations. Only Holly Blue can contact either you or Donatello with an emergency for the next few weeks. Is that all of it?” 

“I don’t know, maybe?” He sighed and finally collapsed in his desk chair. “We’ve never had Donnie and I both out for this long before.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Howard clicked the two massive teeth of his lower jaw together. “Almost all of us have been working here for a while now, sir. We know how to keep the place from catching fire, so to speak.” 

“I know.” Jason's hands moved under his glasses to press against his eyes. “I’m just so stressed on top of all this. I mean what if…” He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to speak it into being.

That after months and months of trying to successfully bring a kid into the world, this attempt that was only days away from success could still result in failure. 

Jason tried to keep that thought as far away as possible. Because he knew as devastated as he would be if that happened, Donnie would be even more so. He already fell apart more than once just trying to get an egg to last more than a day. The amount of failures stacked up to a staggering amount, to the point Jason didn’t even have the stomach to scroll through the data.

But Donnie did. He pushed through it because he didn’t want to give up. And with this so close, if it fell apart… 

Jason thought about the night where all he could do was cradle the turtle’s head against his chest as he sobbed until he passed out. Jase didn’t want to imagine it being worse than that. 

He was so excited but so terrified and both feelings combined together made it feel like his heart wanted to rattle its way right out of his chest. 

“Apologies,” Howard’s voice distracted him. “Do you need a moment? I can come back later to further discuss—” 

Jason’s phone buzzed on the desk once, then again. Not consistent enough to be a call, it must be a text. It did it twice more as he picked it up. 

He looked at the notifications to see the texts from his husband, going from the first to the latest.

>JASE >EGG >HAT CH >HATCHING >LAB 

Jason’s eyes went wide and his heart stopped. He kept staring at the text on the screen, knowing what it said, but his brain wouldn’t connect with the rest of his body. 

“Sir?” Once again Howard broke him out of that trance.

He shot up in an instant, almost knocking his swivel chair over in the process. “Lab!” He shouted and sprinted for the door. “Egg! Hatch!” 

“What?” Howard’s ears went straight up. “She’s hatching?”

Shit, right, they were in the middle of a meeting. Jason turned back around. “Look, after this we can talk again and go over—”

“Don’t be worrying about that!” Howard shrieked and pointed to the doorway. “Get down to the lab!” 

“Right, right,” Jason took off for the elevator. He sometimes questioned his husband's desire to install ones that moved so fast, but in this instance he was so grateful for it. Even if the ten seconds to get from the upper floors to the basement still felt impossibly long. 

He ran out of the elevator the second the doors opened wide enough and went for the main lab door. He practically tripped over his own feet trying to get inside, but didn’t stop. Donnie stood next to the incubation table, and their gaze met in an instant. 

“Did I miss it?” Jason gasped for air and headed over.

Donnie ran up to meet him, grabbing his arm. “No, no, come here. Look!” 

Jason let his husband practically drag him across the floor, truthfully it was faster. They both skidded to a halt in front of the table and Jason didn’t hesitate to press his face against the glass container. 

The egg in question was more oblong than round, evidently it yielded better results over time, but it still was never as big as Jason expected. He always imagined their kid coming into the world the size of a newborn human, but maybe their bundle of genetics didn’t want to turn out that way. 

The egg moved, only shifting slightly within the thermal blankets surrounding it. The heat lamp above it made the shell almost glow, but the cracks along the edge were still visible. 

“Our daughter’s in there.” Jason mumbled. 

Donnie wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Jase’s head. “Yeah.” 

He knew that. He’d seen it before, the many times Donnie would run a scan to check on things. Once his husband even joked about them being akin to ultrasound pictures. But this time…

“She’s actually moving.” 

Donnie tightened his grip. “Yeah.” 

Jason wished he could just press himself through the glass. “Donnie, this wait is going to kill me.”

His husband laughed, the motion vibrating through both of them. “I know, Jase.”

“I want to reach in there and get rid of the rest of the eggshell.”

“Well we can’t, it wouldn’t be good for her.” 

After all that staring, the shell only lifted slightly further than it had earlier. 

Jason dug his nails into the glass. “Going to go insane.”

“How do you think I feel?” Donnie lifted him up and pulled him back. “Come on, we can take a minute to set up a chair. We might be here for a bit.” 

Jason let Donnie be the one to grab one of the comfy lounge chairs from the break area while he grabbed a couple of pillows and some waters. They put the chair as close to the table as it could get, and Jase let his husband sit down before curling up on his lap. 

They both stared, no longer able to see the fine details but close enough to watch her move. Jase grabbed the waters so they could stay hydrated but, truthfully, neither of them looked away long enough to do so. 

Still, the silence quickly became unbearable. “Do you still want to name her Holly?” 

Donnie held one of his hands, gently playing with his fingers. “Yeah, if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, did you ask Holly Blue?”

“Ah, I might have wanted to keep it a surprise. I hope she doesn’t mind.”

“I doubt she would.” Jason dared to look away from the egg for a moment to study his husband’s face. 

Donnie’s eyes were still glued on the glass, jaw tense. Jason reached up with his free hand to run his fingers along it. His husband glanced at him but only for a second. Then the tension left his face. 

“It’s not setting in, is it? That we’re going to be dads” Jason asked.

Donnie chuckled, though he almost looked frightened. “Well, that’s only one thing I mean, you know, getting out of there could take way too much energy. What if she—”

Jason sat up so he could hold his husband’s face with both hands. “Hey. She’s made it this far. She’s going to be fine, okay?” 

“But we don’t know that.”

He tightened his grip. “Donnie, we are not going to doom spiral this. I can’t believe I have to be the one to say that in this situation. Doom spiraling is my job. Anyway, you can’t just sit there and picture the worst case scenario. We just have to let it play out.”

Donnie glanced away. “And what if it does go wrong?”

“Then we’ll handle it together.” Jason tugged himself even closer to kiss his husband on the corner of his mouth. 

Donnie wrapped his arms around him and buried his nose against Jason’s neck, taking a deep breath. “Right as always, Love.” 

“Yeah, well—”

A crack loud enough to interrupt the conversation came from the container. The conversation was immediately forgotten. Donnie stood up in an instant, still holding onto Jase, and brought them both closer to the container. 

Part of the shell was actually lifting! Then dropping, then lifting up again farther and farther each time. 

Then it suddenly fell when a tiny hand shoved itself out, at first clenched into a fist before flexing the fingers. 

Jason couldn’t help but laugh at the image of it. “Man, she really wants out of there.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Donnie chuckled as well. “But Jase, Jase! She has four fingers!”

Did she? Jason leaned in more to get a better look because the hand was so small—she was so small—and finally counted all the digits. 

He didn’t even get the time to marvel over it. Another massive crack split across the shell, and then suddenly she came tumbling out onto the plush towel that sat at the bottom of the container. 

Jason gasped. There she was. His daughter, their daughter, barely pushing herself up and trying to wipe the remaining gunk off her face. A softshell like her dad, no surprise there, but her plastron didn’t cover her stomach. 

Jason practically flung himself out of Donnie’s grip. “Donnie can we—” He stopped speaking when he realized how much his voice was shaking, but tried again anyway. “Can we—”

“I know, I know.” Donnie laughed, in a way that indicated he had too many emotions in his chest for him to deal with. But with his hands free he could type on the monitor and unlock the container. 

The glass lifted and the second it got high enough Jason reached toward her. But then he froze, hands hovering right next to her. “Can I… I mean, would it hurt her?”

“No, no, just be gentle, obviously.” 

Jason still didn’t scoop her up in an instant. He brought his hands close enough to bump into her. Only then did she blink her tiny eyes open. She reached out and touched his palm, and after a couple of seconds she leaned against it. 

The adorableness of it all made him want to scream, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He just let out a high pitched squeak before finally tilting his hand to let her lay flat on his hand and pulling her toward his chest.

She was so small. Only with her in his hands was it fully sinking in. He could rest her in one palm if he wanted to but he used both hands to give her some more support. 

The emotions in his chest were too overwhelming. Tears blurred his vision and all he could do was try to blink them away because damn it, he couldn’t see. They were getting in the way. 

Donnie’s chin rested on his shoulder—he must be kneeling on the floor. “You okay?” 

Jason took a deep breath to steady his voice. “She’s so small, Donnie.” 

His husband laughed but his voice cracked as he did. “I know. I know. Can you imagine how small she’s going to look in my hands?”

“I don’t think I could handle that right now. I…” He just realized his legs felt weaker and weaker by the second. “I need to sit down.” 

Donnie’s arms wrapped around his middle and gently tugged him back so Jase sat on his lap. The turtle’s head still rested on his shoulder. 

Jason just stared. It was still barely sinking in. Holly sat in his hands and he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. He’s a father. His daughter is sitting in his hands, curling up to try and stay warm no doubt. He dared to bring her closer to his face and only then noticed the very tiny black strands on the top of her head. 

“She has hair.” Jason whispered. 

“Wh—” Donnie started shouting and then snapped his mouth shut. “What?” He whispered this time. 

Jason moved her closer to Donnie’s face and smiled when he heard his husband’s delighted squeak. 

“Hah, I knew she had more of your genes than you thought.” 

Jason leaned back, relaxing against his husband’s chest. He watched Holly roll over, watched her breathe, as long as she kept breathing that was a good sign.

“We should probably let everyone know she’s here,” Donnie said.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “But I don’t want to move right now. I don’t want to put her down.” 

Donnie held up a hand. “May I?” 

Jason very carefully and very delicately rested his hands over Donnie’s before letting Holly slide off his palms and onto his husband’s. 

The baby softshell stirred, blinking a few times and even pushing herself up to look around. 

God, she looked even smaller. She didn’t even fill up Donnie’s palm. Tears burned at his eyes again but this time he could wipe it away. 

The tiniest noise came out of her mouth, the faintest of squeaks. Jason had to grab his shirt and pull it up over his mouth to scream into it. He glanced at Donnie to see his husband practically doing the same thing. 

But then she did it again, and again, reaching out for something. 

Jason frowned. Was she hungry? He carefully picked her back up, and in a matter of seconds she curled up again, silent.

“Ah, you’re warm.” Donnie tilted his head as he smiled. “Or warmer, anyway. Now I’m just jealous.” 

Jason turned so he could lean his side against Donnie’s chest instead. “Just put your hand under mine then.” 

His husband did, and then Jason lowered them so they rested against his legs. 

For the next hour all they did was watch her sleep while Jason kept trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was a dad now.

—-------------------------

Jason’s hands had never felt so empty.

For the right reasons, of course. Holly eventually woke up, making those faint squeaks. Donnie said it’d be wise to make sure she drank something. Jason helped get her some water. Thankfully they wouldn’t have to do something like syringe feed her, but he did almost panic when she shoved her face into the water dish. Thankfully just an awkward first attempt, she got the hang of it pretty quick. 

After that, Donnie decided to inform his family with a video call. He suggested Jason let his father know too, but so far he hadn’t managed to pull his phone out. Part of this still didn’t feel real. Like he was just experiencing a blissful dream and soon enough he’d wake up.

But eventually he got sick of his empty hands, so he pulled out his phone. 

It did take a few rings for an answer, and his father sounded out of breath. “Jase? Is this super important?” The man laughed. “Me and um, the partners were just…” 

Jason blinked. “Are your pants off yet?” 

“Well I’m wearing a skirt so—”

“Right. Well, I don’t know. I’ll let you decide if it’s important that I inform you that you’re a grandfather now.” 

The silence that followed made him smile. He could easily picture the utter shock on his dad’s face.

“Huh?” The question came out so high pitched that the man had to clear his throat. “Come again?”

“I’d love to.” Manny shouted in the background. “But I have yet to do it the first time.”

Jason burst out laughing.

“Manny! Don’t interrupt!” His father yelled back. “Jase. Jase. Are you serious? She’s here?” 

He kept smiling, so wide that his cheeks hurt. “Yeah, she is. Her name is Holly.”

“Holly! Of course it is.” His voice got a bit more muffled, probably turning away from the speaker. “Guys, we’re grandparents!”

“What?” Angie’s voice shrieked. “Jae you ass, put him on speaker!” 

His father turned back to the phone. “Is she there right now? Can we see her?”

“Donnie’s showing her off to his family, but I can text you photos.” Jason rubbed his cheeks. “Am I actually on speaker?”

“Yes,” Manny answered. 

Now his cheeks tingled from embarrassment rather than numbness. “Right, well, uh, I wanted to also say that…” His hand moved from his face to the collar of his button up, tugging on the material. “I get it now.” 

“Get what?” His father asked.

Ugh, did he really have to say this in front of Manny and Angie? But it’d just be rude to shut them out at this point. “Do you remember that talk we had after I moved back in with you? And you told me that when I was born you um… you know, how you felt at the time?”

“Yes?” 

“Yeah, I get it now.” Jason tugged his knees closer. “I couldn’t wrap my head around how holding an infant in your hands could shift your perspective, but I get it now.” 

Angie let out an “aw,” before it got interrupted by someone. 

“You alright, kiddo?” His father wound up asking. 

“I mean, yeah.” He tilted his head back against the chair. “Like, I don’t feel bad or anything. Just very, very overwhelmed.” 

Jae-Won laughed. “Yeah, I felt that too. And do you want me to tell you a secret?”

“What?”

“That feeling you get every time you look at her? It’s never going to go away.”

“Huh?” Jason almost shouted into the phone. “How the heck do you deal with it then?”

His father kept laughing. “Let me finish. It’s not going to go away. What happens is that you just grow around it, and it becomes your new normal, and maybe sometimes you’ll be so used to it that you’ll forget it’s there, but other times you’ll be reminded.” He paused for a second. “I’m really proud of you, kiddo. Welcome to fatherhood.”

Jason sighed and pretended he wasn’t smiling again. “Thanks.”

“Now hurry up and send pictures!” 

“Yeah!” Angie shouted in agreement. 

“Okay, okay.” Jason put his own phone on speaker as he moved to his gallery. “You guys are not going to believe how small she is.” 

“What?” His father said. “You mean she’s not—Oh my god!” 

Jason kept laughing at their collective screams of shock followed by squeals of adoration, to the point tears burned in his eyes again. 

He hoped Donnie came back soon. He wanted to hold Holly again and tell her he loved her over and over until she understood what the words meant.

No matter how long that took.

#scribbly fics #jasonnie #rottmnt

[slasher-male-wife]

aight this is kinda angsty or you can make it idk happier?? Bubba and Thomas thinking the reader is attempting to escape in the mean time they were just have a brain fart and no idea what they were doing

So much Thomas today but I’m not complaining. I think I know what you mean by that. Sometimes I’ll be going for a walk outside then I end up at this elementary school nearby or like in a different neighborhood or something completely. I’m not the biggest fan of angst but I think I can like figure this out.

Bubba Sawyer

You’re outside on the porch reading a magazine Drayton got you back in town. You’re busy looking over all the new trends and styles and the latest music. You find this one outfit you really like. The pants are so amazing and the shirt looks really nice. You find the pattern for it on the back and you neatly rip out the page. A loud crash and yelling comes from inside the house and you drop the paper. A gust of wind blows it off the porch and you start to chase after it. “God damn it.” You huff chasing after it. You’re so focused on the page flying away from you that you don’t notice how far out you’ve gotten by the time you finally grab it. As your folding it you feel Bubba put his hand on your shoulder and you jump. “Jesus Bubba you scared me.” You see a look of worry on his face, a meat cleaver in hand. It takes a few seconds before you realize what he thought was happening. 

“Bubba I just dropped this page. I’m not gonna leave you. Why would I want to leave you behind?” You ask putting the page in your pocket. He still looks worried. “Bubba come on I swear I wasn’t trying to leave ok? Let’s go back to the house” You grab his hand and he accepts. You two walk back to the house and the yelling is still going on when you enter. 

“Y/N the hell were you doing that far out?” Drayton asks. Nubbins and Chop Top are well being themselves in the other room. 

“I just ran off a little too far ok?” 

“You’re not gonna be leaving this house for a long time! I swear you and my brothers are gonna be the death of me!” He goes on to shout about taxes and family life while Bubba takes you upstairs. “I’m really sorry about that Bubba. I was running after a page I wanted, I’ll make it up to you somehow ok?” You say walking to your shared room. He nods and you smile. You stand on your toes and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you understand Bubba. Now how about I show you some of the pretty dresses in here. Maybe I can make you one.” 

Thomas Hewitt

You’re headed outside the front door to get something from Hoyts car when you see a cat. You have barn cats here but this one is different. It’s a grey cat that you’ve never seen before. “Hey kitty what are you doing out here?” You ask walking over to it. It meows and starts to head off. You look back and decide to follow it. You don’t notice that you’re going pretty far on the trail that leads back to the road. You’re mostly just staring at the cat who looks back every few seconds to make sure you’re following it. You’re pulled out when you feel a tug on your wrist. You look and find Thomas dragging you back to the house. You look at how far out you got and you know what he was thinking.

“Tommy I’m sorry I just got kinda carried away by the cat I wasn’t trying to leave you.” He looks back at you with so many emotions in his eyes. You can tell he’s worried and pissed but you feel his grip loosen when you explain yourself. Once back in the house he takes you to the basement with him. He rarely does this with you. You found this only happens when he’s worried about you, mad with you or in need of help. You hope he’s just worried. He rarely gets mad at you but you know he must be now. He sits you down at a table and hands you a book you read whenever you get down there. “Tommy I’m sorry please don’t be mad at me.” He just presses his finger on the book and walks away. You feel tears form. You hate when he’s mad at you, but you understand why. 

You get to reading the book and about an hour later he comes back to the table. He gives you a few gentle pats on the head and you look up at him. “Are you still mad?” He shakes his hand side to side. “Can you forgive me Thomas?” He thinks for a moment and nods. A smile grows, you get up and give him a hug. “Thank you honey. I’ll be more careful outside.” 

#thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer x y/n #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #tcm #tcm the beginning #slasher #slashers #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[tanglepelt]

Run Ghost Run 11

A03 Prev next

Danny wakes up and the immediate problems with that

**

Everything hurt. Just like he had taken a beating from Skulker again or after when Vlad tried to steal his DNA. Danny’s eyes didn’t want to open, they were so heavy, and he was so tired. Waking up exhausted is never a grand time. He didn’t want to get up. Sleep just sounded better, just five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

But something wasn’t right. This wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t even tuckers couch. No, it was too small. Too hard. It wasn’t even the floor at school.  He had never fallen asleep before.

Stiffening as the memories came flashing back. The war, Jack and Maddie, the scalpel hitting his skin, the cuffs holding him down. Gotham herself and then his latest kidnapping. His breathing was more rapid. He needed to calm down.

What if he was being watched? He needs to be calm. Calm his breaths, do something. He needed to act asleep. If he was lucky no one was around, he didn’t hear anything. That was a good sign. Danny needed to figure out a plan. Come up with something sensible. Unlike the last few days.

Never once had he thought he would end up around a crime lord. That just doesn’t happen, Amity doesn’t have any gangs, that was all stuff in action movies. Did Amity even have legit cops? He’s only ever seen the two. Danny just let himself be taken by a crime lord. Who knows what they could have done to him? They may both are hiding from the government but come on. When Jazz finds out he’s so screwed. There is no way she won’t. Jazz always seems to know everything.  

He should have fought more.

So, what if his powers just didn’t cooperate? It’s no excuse. Despite his best effort to get out of reds grip. The man was too strong. All his struggles went unnoticed he hadn’t seemed to even bat an eye. Waiting him out wouldn’t work. Not with his threat. Being found by the vigilantes was one of the worse outcomes. His powers had only managed to make the area colder. No ecto blast, no lasers, no intangibility he couldn’t even shapeshift. The more he pushed the worse he felt. It had become too painful to struggle, the more he tried to use his powers the more it spread.

His human side was still too injured that struggling itself had hurt him. Every attempted twist or turn sent waves of pain through him. Whether physical or magical it was a problem.

He had been stuck.

Take a chance with a crime lord and hopefully make it through the next day or be found by the vigilantes.

The vigilantes were too big a risk. They had worked with the police before. The police and government worked hand in hand, following the laws. They enforced them, batman and crew always turned them in. Getting their rogues arrested. By law, he was a criminal for existing. The ones ordering him to be handed over to the government. Experimentation or extermination. He’d be whisked back to a lab in no time.

After a single escape, he didn’t expect another chance. They get him and he is as good as gone.

Why did he have to pass out? He hadn’t even been trying to duplicate himself. He needed to dip. Get out of whatever basement he’s going to find himself in

He didn’t even want to open his eyes. What if they took his kidney? Tuckers talked about stories like that before. It’s happened in his horror movies.

It felt like all his organs were still there. He had experience now on what they felt like all messed around with. An experience he would like to never experience again.

Out of everywhere he went to why here. This place was a mess.

There are too many vigilantes here. Batman had worked with the government before. He couldn’t trust anyone here. He wouldn’t risk getting caught again. A crime lord already can’t be trusted. Movies made that much clear.

He had let his guard down before the mugging. Lost in the new space, he didn’t pay attention as he tried to find his way around. A mistake he wouldn’t make again. Red would have never found him if had just been more careful. Even if both parties hate the government he couldn’t be trusted. An enemy of your enemy only causes more problems.

Danny could do this. Scope out the hopefully not secret lab. Get his bag, he’d need the ectoplasm. Another boost. Get everything kickstarted all again. Then never come back.

Screw Gotham. Screw Lady Gotham. This was the final nail in the coffin. He wasn’t sticking around to end up in one.

Ignoring the pain. That was so much worse than just a day prior.

He opened his eyes and jolted up. Quickly scanning the room in search of anything to help.

His backpack wasn’t in sight. Looking in every direction it wasn’t in clear sight. That bag had everything he had with him. He wouldn’t leave it behind.

At least this place wasn’t a lab or basement.

It just appeared to be an old apartment. He was situated in a living room. A rundown-looking apartment, run-down couch, and rickety furniture. It looked like everything would creak or moan if he moved. Being sneaky was never his forte. Well unless he was invisible and intangible, he was great at it then. Another look and there were no pictures on the wall. No weapons in sight. While it was old furniture the place looked completely unlived in.

There were no bars on the windows. Or anything indicating locked doors. That doesn’t mean they weren’t locked. Could just be all on the outside of the doors. Vlad’s pulled a trick or two like that before.

Red wasn’t anywhere visible. Which was probably… maybe a good thing. One less problem to think about for now. He couldn’t even see out the window. It was one of those frosted ones, there was light. Either he’d barely been out, or it’d been a whole night. Hopefully the first, losing a whole night meant who knows what happened.

Okay… No way to know unless he figured out what was going on. Where he was and when. Maybe another shot of ectoplasm or two. Try and jumpstart his powers again, he has to do something. It was all getting more real.

Get up, get his bag, and get out.

That’s all he had to do. Super simple and easy. Right?

If only it was that simple. Getting up was a chore. Having to push himself up from the couch, he didn’t have the energy. It was like trying to push a car off him. It took everything just to do a simple activity. Then of course as he stood up something creaked. Maybe the floorboard it doesn’t really matter what. Now all he could do is hope the crime lord didn’t hear it.

This was not going to be easy, but then again when was it ever?

No new bodies appeared, and no one stormed out of the room. No new weapons in his face, so maybe he got lucky. He could do this. If he could seal away Pariah, he could handle this. He just had to put one foot in front of the other and start. That was the key. It was going well until he tripped over his own feet falling to the ground.

Not a fun trip, the floor was not as exciting as the museum.  

Maybe he could just melt into the floor. It sounded better than getting up again. The fall must have been enough to draw attention.

When he rolled onto his back. The guy was right in Infront of him, looking down at him.

Great

 *

Jason had a kid passed out on his couch, a town functioning under a hidden martial law, confirmation a government agency was after the kid, and to top it off the kid was a confirmed ecto entity.  He knew he had been held in a lab. The same place Steph and Cass had been. The kid was injured.

Trying to keep home in the safe house was not going to be easy. The kid jumped off a roof to get away once. It was purely by chance he came across him. The fact he hadn’t left Gotham yet was a shock. Then the fact he got an acceptance of the situation was concerning.

He didn’t give the kid much of a choice, the kid only got two. Him or the others. The cards had been in his favor, not being involved with the government had its advantages. Red Hood also didn’t star in any searches for vigilantes.  If Danny didn’t wake up panicked there would be even more concern.

He choose this safe house for a reason. It’s not a nice one, it lacks anything personal, and it makes noise. His weapons were all stashed in the main bedroom, even the hidden ones. No pictures or anything that could link to Jason Todd. If there was and the kid saw pictures of anything related to his personal life it could go bad. Knowing the identity of a criminal was enough to get people killed.

He knows where to move to not make the floor creak and not let the door squeak.

If Danny used his powers, he couldn’t do much to stop him. Just follow him. There were a few trackers hidden away on him. Just in case.

Jason's running theory the powers were on the fritz was even more apparent based on some blood results. Danny had just left a bloody sweatshirt on a roof. The results showed more than just human DNA. That wasn’t a shock.

Something in his system had matching properties as the Lazarus pits. Not a direct hit, not quite the same but close. Somehow Danny’s DNA seemed to have two sets. A pure human side and the other. That part of the blood apparently was under attack. Even with the blood being dried whatever was going to attack that specific property. Danny was likely to need a proper doctor. One specializing in metas or something.

Couldn’t do much about it now.

Jason has to figure out how to convince the kid he is safe here. Everything else would follow.

Danny just stayed asleep through the night. It was only when the kid first showed signs of waking up, he moved out of the living room. His stiffening up was a sure sign he was realizing his situation. Letting him wake up alone in an open space hopefully will lessen his nerves. Nothing in his sight should be concerning. Nothing was locked up. Danny’s backpack was conveniently in another room.

Hopefully, that was enough of a deterrent to immediately bolt.

Jason would give him enough time to look around and not be crowded. When he heard the thud of a body hitting the floor he did head out. Danny clearly wasn’t ready to move. So out he went to offer his assistance.

The kid was face down on the ground. He had slowly rolled to be laying on his back. The movement seemed taxing and difficult.

Danny was then looking straight at him. Jason held his hand out to offer to help the kid up. Danny just got defensive. Saying he didn’t need anything but his bag from him. Trying to get up and failing. Refusing to take his hand and get up.

That was enough of a sign to back off. Forcing anything wasn’t going to go anywhere. Jason just sat down on the couch and grabbed his phone. There wasn’t anything new. Bruce was likely dealing with the justice league now.

“If you need help just let me know” in a simple disinterested tone.

Danny was stubborn he’d give him that. Seemingly accepting a new life lying down on the floor. About an hour passes and he finally caved. The kid re-situated on the couch he grabbed the bag and just threw it on the other side of the couch. It had a few new additions Danny didn’t need to know that. The kid just grabbed it and put it in his lap.

Now to figure out how to get a better check-up on the kid. Jason was pretty sure Danny did something new or something was acting up. Try as he might Danny wasn’t very good at keeping his breaths calm. It could just be nervous energy but add in the flashes in his eyes and with the fall it's likely both.

“You pull something in the fall.”

A silence that was kind of expected. No new movements just a glare in his direction.

“I’m pretty handy with my first aid if you hadn’t noticed” Danny definitely hadn’t. Only just now looking at his wrist.

“why”

“Rope burns are the worst. Always annoyed me” Keep it simple sweet and to the point. Nothing unnecessary or attempts to draw the conversation out. It had to come from him.

“No, why help me?”

“cause you were hurt. It’s obvious you’re not from around here, kids are off-limits here. No one is supposed to touch them. You’re in my territory now, couldn’t just let you stay on the street. You needed some help. Simple as that” Danny looked confused at that. Another bit of silence before Danny spoke again.

“Then I’ll leave and I won’t be your problem anymore”

Time to take a gamble. No way the kid makes it that far if he can even get off the couch.

“I'll make you a deal, you walk out of here on your own you can go. Walking without falling that is. If you don’t, you let me check properly for injuries and treat them. Then you stay another night”

With how quickly Danny agreed he was almost concerned he was gonna lose. He didn’t even get three steps hitting the ground.

“a deal is a deal. I can help you up and it will just be a quick checkup. Just to see if there is anything that needs to be done. Just need you to ditch the sweatshirt for a second.”

This time the kid did take his hand. He just kind of looked defeated and seemingly accepting his fate. Even actually cooperating by taking his sweatshirt off. He only got pushback once they both saw the red. The kid had to have done something. There was nothing around that could have cut his stomach.

Trying to assist he could handle it himself. That he could restitch it without him. After arguing back and forth for who knows how long he got somewhere.

“You can’t freak out”. There was so much dread and concern in that statement.

After several assurances he wouldn’t freak he finally got somewhere. Whatever he saw he had to keep his cool. The way he was reacting was not good. So, the bandages slowly came off. A y becoming apparent.

That wasn’t a from dissection.

He had clearly been fighting it.

Someone vivisected this kid.

#Danny Phantom #dp x dc #fanf #phan #dc x dp crossover

[cbsxreader]

Can I request yandere CBS trying to clean up reader in the bath after an unsuccessful escape attempt. Please and thank you.

Yandere Christian cleaning you up after an escape attempt

NSFW (Yandere themes, injuries, implied sexual encounters)

Ps.:You call him 'Brutal' in this story

You had tried to escape again, this time you almost made it. As you ran through the dark and vicious forest, you could see a small town or a village in the distance. Empowered by your 'lover' chasing you, you suddenly found all the strength in the world to get back to civilisation. But Brutal caught up with you before you could get noticed by anyone else.

After getting you back home, he gave you a painful beating and an awfully loud lecture before he decided to let his steam off on something else. Brutal had locked you in a cold, dark room with an old, uncomfortable cot in it and then left.

After a couple hours of crying into the mattress and not moving an inch, you heard the door being unlocked. Some light shone onto your shivering form. You were afraid to move, heartbeat immediately fastening and tears threatening to fall again. Brutal's footsteps neared closer, you closed your eyes, awaiting whatever he was about to do to you. Nothing. Tear streaks ran down your cheeks as you braced yourself.

"Get up." You heard his deep voice.

You pushed the upper half of your body up and slightly scrambled to move your legs to the edge of the bed. You placed your bare feet onto the cold floor tiles and stood up. Your arms remained at your sides and you avoided his eyes, looking down.

"Up. Here." Brutal said in a more stern tone.

You took a deep breath before you looked into his eyes. Your breath got caught in your throat as his red eyes bore into yours.

"Now listen here." His voice cut the tense silence "Take those clothes off. Or else Oi'll rip them off ya."

You were at the verge of breaking down again. If you don't take your clothes off, your body will be rotting in his basement. If you do take your clothes off, he'll fuck the living hell out of you before leaving you in your room again. You weren't looking forward to neither of the outcomes. But after your latest attempt, you gained a bit of hope. You slipped up a few times, yes, but if you had avoided your mistakes, you could have been free. And it was enough for you to choose the second option and have a chance at survival.

You took in deep breaths, calming yourself down, and started to take your clothes off. You nervously draped your clothing off of you and dropped each item in a pile. Brutal's grin grew wider as each piece of clothing came off of you. It unsettled you, but it was still better than getting killed.

In a few moments, you were completely naked. The cold, still air made you get goosebumps all over you and your nipples hardened. You closed your eyes and furrowed your brows, bracing for him to do whatever he pleased to you.

Brural hid his teeth but continued to smile. He placed his left hand on your waist and his right hand rose to your chin and made you look up at him "Look at you, so beautiful for me~" You opened your eyes only to notice he was looking at your chest instead of your face.

He seemed to notice you opening your eyes and looked back up at you "Come on, Roo, Oi've got something prepared for you." Brutal whispered barely loud enough for you to hear him.

He hooked his arm around your waist and lead you to the door. His arm made contact with yours and you couldn't help but raise your arms up and cross them over your chest. This kind of behavior usually got you in trouble, Brutal really didn't like it when you hid yourself from him. But he either didn't notice, or was too eager about whatever he had planned and didn't care. You knew you couldn't get used to it, maybe he's just in a better mood than earlier...

You soon reached the bathroom and before you could ask what he was going to do, he already opened the door. You were greeted with an...unusual sight. The dark, worn-down bathroom was accompanied by a clean bathtub filled with water instead of blood, some shampoo bottles, cleaning supplies and a single scented candle. You were confused, to say the least.

''So? Aren't you going to get in, Love?'' Brutal spoke again.

His voice made you snap out of your thoughts. You took in another breath and headed towards the bath, his arm slipped off from your waist. This wasn't too bad. At least...not yet. When you got close to the bathtub, you could see that the water was actually clear and you felt yourself become slightly less tense.

Your fear spiked again when he let out a dark chuckle. That was the sound you feared the most, because it meant he had an idea. An idea to do something to you. You kept your composure since you knew you were going to go in that bathtub one way or another. You carefully climbed into the bathtub. "Please don't undress, please don't undress, please don't undress" echoed through your mind. The water was strangely warm and relaxed your muscles, but you didn't want to relax. You wanted to be ready for anything.

You didn't even hear him when he came up behind you. Brutal was just suddenly there. He grabbed your scalp with a strong grip. You already expected the worst, but it turned out he was taking small twigs, leaves and other small things out of your hair.

Brutal took the shampoo, squeezed some of it on your head and massaged your scalp. The sound of foam getting pushed around fillied your ears. He got his long fingers entangled in your hair, still having a good grip on your head.

While massaging your head, he noticed something. He thought it was something he should take care of, but it turned out to be his own doing.

"Stay still, or else I'll cut yer head off and stick it on a pike." He threatened you, holding a knife to your throat.

The knife retreated back to him, leaving you wondering what he was about to do. Then you felt it, on the back of your neck, just below your hair.

The cold blade cut your skin, blood quickly making an appearance. You held in a sob, streams of tears ran down your cheeks and chin. He pushed the knife a tad bit deeper and started to carve something. Some time passed before you felt the blade leave your skin. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in and winced at the feeling of sensitivity from your fresh cut.

He then locked you in a room which later turned out to be asigned to you. After crying yourself to sleep, you woke up when the bleeding had already stopped. You found a piece of a shattered mirror and used it to look at the nape of your neck. Tears threatened to fall again when you saw "CBS" in stoic lettering carved in your skin.

Brutal knew he had to make sure everyone knew who you belonged to when he kidnapped you. The sick bastard smiled to himself, admiring his work. You could just feel it.

He continued to apply the shampoo for a few minutes before his hands left you. You saw him take what seemed to be a small cooking pot. Brutal scooped up water into it and, knowing his plan, you closed your eyes shut. He poured the water on your head before filling up the pot again. This time he entangled his hands in your hair to really wash the shampoo out. After a few moments of rinsing, he put the pot back down.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Oh you know, Oi just wanted to be close to ya'~" Brutal slid his hand down your body and stopped at your thigh.

"After you tried to leave me..again.." His voice was suddenly darker and he posessively groped your thigh.

You let out a small whimper, that voice meant he was upset. And when he's upset, he gets aggresive. And when he's aggresive, you get hurt.

He squeezed your thigh even more, before his hand suddenly relaxed and you could hear him take a deep breath and let it out. Did he..actually hold himself back from hurting you?

His hands suddenly left you as you heard noises that sounded like plastic bottles being pushed aside in a search for something. You decided not to risk seeing something you weren't meant to see.

Brutal was visible in your vision again. He had a cotton pad and a blue and green medicine bottle with him. He opened the medicine bottle and poured a small amount of it onto the pad, dying it a bright red colour. Curiousity has killed the cat before, so you didn't question the medicine.

Brutal lifted your leg out of the water and turned his attention to your heavily bruised knee. He took the cotton and lightly dapped the bruise. You were confused, why was he dapping the bruise if blood had already stopped? That confusion was replaced by surprise as you saw the small gashes close and your knee became good as new.

You were so caught up in wonder that you didn't notice Brutal tending to the cut on your arm. Same thing happened. Lightly dapped it, wound quickly closed and you felt like there had never been a cut on your arm. This repeated as he tended to other wounds.

Brutal finished with your wounds and put the cotton away. "Well, I think that's about it."

You got out of the bathtub with no hesitation while he searched for two towels. You stood there, dripping water onto the floor, before feeling the texture of a towel on your skin. He got every single inch of your skin dry.

Brutal gave you the two ends of your towel and you wrapped yourself up. He took the second towel and went behind you. A moment of silence.

"How do you wrap this on your head? I've only ever just let my hair dry naturally.."

● ● ●

Brutal must have been in a WAY better mood than before. Not only was he carrying you bridal style to your shared bedroom but he also let you dry your hair and brush your teeth. You still had your arms over your chest though. You had spent enough time together with him that you knew he was trying to see your vulnerable side by doing something nice.

Brutal pushed the door to the bedroom open with his foot. Once he had gotten so angry that he made the door unhinge, so there's that. He carried you to the bed and placed you down. You were facing away from him, but the sounds of him peeling away his clothing were too recognizable. Oh no...Tears pooled in your eyes as you felt the bed dip from his weight.

But, instead of his hard cock poking at you, he hugged you from behind. Brutal got as close as possible and you could tell he had kept his boxers on. He buried his face in your neck and let out a content sigh.

Your confusion spiked up again. Isn't he going to violate me? In any way? There was always something behind his actions, both kind and cruel, and you knew it. You couldn't stay quiet for long.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" You whispered.

"Heh, you'll get your brains fucked out in the mornin', love. For now, I want to admire how beautiful you are like this."

You wish this night never ends.

Again, I'm sorry this took so long to finish :,)

#christian brutal sniper x reader #yandere #freak fortress x reader #tf2 freaks x reader #tf2 freakshow x reader

[peterpanfromlemonland]

Don't Hyde From Me (ch. 6 Beauty Inside the Beast)

CW/TW: Lots of fluff and angst, casually running from their feelings, some smut, sub!Tyler, very good boy, dom tyler, p in v (wrap before you tap unless you have fetus deletus measures)

Don't Hyde From Me chapters

The two of them sat on a couple of cushions and a picnic blanket, enjoying their breakfast while watching Disney’s Beauty and The Beast. Coffee by their sides as Belle sang about her quaint little town. Tyler couldn’t help but smile as Hoa sang along softly, the girl thought she was being sneaky and he couldn’t hear her. She looked so sweet when she was like this, he’d wish to have more moments like these in the future. Hoa had already finished half of her caramel macchiato, she was visibly shaking from the large amount of caffeine she had consumed in under 5 minutes- Tyler flashed an awkward and concerned smile at her as he slowly moved the caffeinated beverage away from her, only gaining a hiss as the girl snatched it in her gremlin clutches.

“My coffee.” She glared as she took another sip, bringing a laugh out of the boy. She chastised him for talking during the best part of the scene, like a toddler telling a story. Tyler couldn’t pay attention to the film that was playing when the girl in front of him was way more interesting, she was writing down notes about her observations on the hyde all while singing along with the characters- the boy marveled at her ability to multitask.

“What are you writing about me?” He tried to sneak a peek at the notes, trying to get the latest gossip.

“Shoo.” she playfully shoved him away, “Just the fact that you haven’t gone full hyde in a while, you’re protective, territorial…” the girl went on about her discoveries and certain findings she’d made. When he was given the chance to kill he didn’t, that was the most interesting of discoveries she had so far. All this talk about studying hydes brought Tyler back to the first time he and the girl met. It was sometime during the winter break, Hoa was one of the few students who stayed on campus during the break. The school had locked poor Tyler up down in the basement where they could conduct experiments of sorts on him.

Every day or so, the girl would make her way down there and chat. Doing her research, pushing his buttons, trying to decipher if he was safe to be around or not. The first time Tyler had laid his eyes on her he couldn’t help but laugh, the principal had sent down such a tiny and weak student to be in charge of him- he knew she would break easily. The boy thought it would be amusing to hyde out and scare her off, that attempt was in vain.

“You’re not that scary.” Hoa said as she adjusted her glasses, “You know that right?” The hyde just snarled, trying to reach out and claw at the girl. The chains did very little to stop him, just as he came close to striking her she let out a bolt of electricity from her palm; shocking the boy enough to where he collapsed to the floor and reverted back to human form. She sighed and looked away, the principal’s second in command putting a blanket over the boy as Hoa left.

Tyler couldn’t help but smile at the memory, she was so cold to him yet look at her now. She was practically curled up next to him with her coffee, he couldn’t help but stare; she knew that he was capable of killing her at any given moment- if he wanted to- yet she was so calm and close to him. It felt nice. He noticed that she hadn’t made eye contact with him ever since they left the cafeteria, did he do something to upset her? Tyler wanted to reach out to her, and wanted to apologize.

“Hoa?” His voice was shaky, “Are you… Did I do something wrong…?” He could feel his heart breaking in every word. Hoa was silent, her gaze never leaving the film, she was biting down on her lip to the point she drew blood. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” her words came out as a whisper, it was sheer luck that the boy was able to pick up what she said- must’ve been the effects of being bitten. “I’m just- I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.” She liked Tyler, a lot- and seeing him improving at controlling his urges and impulses made her more than happy- yet given the situation they were in she couldn’t tell him. She didn’t want them to take him away, she was doing everything in her power to keep the boy around. She was scared of David, scared of losing Tyler, scared of her family. Scared of what would happen if she told the boy about how she really felt.

“Princess,” Tyler muttered as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “You have nothing to be scared about, I’ll protect you.” The words flowed out of his mouth without even realizing it, he felt the bond he had with Laurel fade away when his hand brushed up against her cheek. This isn’t happening is it? 

“I promise.” He flashed her a calm smile, his hand on her cheek. She turned to look at him, a gentle smile washing over her face as she gently placed a hand on his. What were they? Friends? More than friends? The two of them continued watching the movie even after they had finished their breakfast, Hoa dancing in her seat as Tyler chuckled softly as memories of his mother- happy memories- emerged from the depths of his mind. He missed her. Yet here he was, with a vampire who had the same energy as his mother. He’d protect her at any costs.

“What are you staring at?” Hoa caught the boy off guard, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Tyler stuttered for a response, he didn’t realize he was staring at her. How long has it been? He pouted and stayed silent, no words could form and spill from his lips- she cornered him and this left him feeling vulnerable, something he wasn’t quite used to due to his father never opening up to him. But he enjoyed the feeling, he felt vulnerable yet he felt safe.

“You.” Was all that he could utter, his heart wouldn’t slow down and he feared the worst, how could someone like him be with someone like her?“What are you thinking about?” She tilted her head quizzically, “Surely it’s not about killing me.” She chuckled, the boy shook his head and slowly inched his way closer to her. When asked what was on his mind; it wasn’t the movie, the music, the coffee, or the way his ankles and wrists weren’t in pain anymore. It was her. She was all that was on his mind, he couldn’t help but think about holding her close in his arms, he wouldn’t mind it if she did take one of his eyes- he would do anything for her. It was pure infatuation, like he was caught in a spell of sorts and he couldn’t get out- no- he didn’t want to get out. He liked it here, with her.

“All that’s on my mind right now is you.” 

Hoa blushed at this comment, forgetting about the movie. Who needs sappy Disney romance when romance finds its way to you? This time she was the one to initiate the kiss, Tyler obliged gleefully- the warmth of her blood graced his lips; he wanted a taste. She took some of his blood so it was only fair he took some from her. Without a second thought the boy’s tongue darted out to flick against her lips excitedly and lapping up any blood, catching her off guard, Hoa squeaked in surprise- she was as red as a batch of freshly picked cherries- she sheepishly leaned back to try to get her bearings but the boy was too quick. Too eager. Tyler chased after her lips with his own, the metallic taste of blood still fresh on his tongue, he wanted more. He needed more.

He slipped a hand in hers, fingers intertwined, heart racing out of his chest and into his throat. Tyler quickly pulled her close and crashed his lips onto hers again, leaving her nowhere to run, he was surprised when she kissed him back with the same energy. It only excited him more, without thinking he slowly slid his hand up her waist, taking in her warmth and strawberry perfume. It was intoxicating, addicting, he could feel his member twitch with anticipation while thoughts of her ran rampant in his head. He wanted her to mark him, drain him, hold him, he just wanted to be close to her. The boy felt her fangs brush up against his lips, as if she wanted to bite him yet she was unsure. He wanted her to bite him, he showed her that he wanted this while he slowly flicked his tongue against her sharp teeth- purposefully pricking the tip of his tongue on one of the fangs, dripping his blood into her mouth.

Hoa pushed him away suddenly, fear and panic in her eyes, “What are you doing?!” She uttered, out of breath.

“I want you to drain me.” Tyler’s pupils dilated with lust, “Please?” He whined, he begged. This riled something inside the girl, the way he whined and begged so desperately aroused her. The dimly lit fire in the pit of her stomach was being stoked by the way he pouted, the way he whined and reached out for her.

“Are you sure you want this?” Hesitation and worry in her eyes, “Once I take a full pint, there’s no going back.” Tyler nodded swiftly and without hesitation, his eyes lighting up with excitement he could hardly sit still. His cock twitched in the harsh fabric of his jeans, he squirmed trying to get the friction he so desperately needed. Hoa sighed and shook her head, a smile spreading across her face as she leaned close; Tyler instantly hooked his lips to hers, letting out a soft moan when she allowed his tongue access to roam her mouth again. The girl slowly ran her slim fingers through his caramel colored hair, his curls wrapping around her every appendage. Who knew a monster could have such soft hair?

Hoa let the boy roam as he pleased, not giving him what he wanted until he was sure of it. Sheepishly flicking her tongue against his, she slowly pulled away, she was unsure of where he wanted her to bite. Unsure on where she wanted to bite. Her thumb tracing his lips slowly, no she already bit there, her hand gently rubbing his neck. He was so warm. She could feel the flames ignite in her when he tilted his head, giving her easier access to his neck; the girl leaned in and pressed her lips against his neck- she could feel her hunger for blood become unbearable. When he felt her lips gently press against his neck he couldn’t help but grind into her, he needed her to touch him. 

“Easy there, Barista Boy.” she giggled softly as she palmed at his aching boner, “You sure you want me to mark your neck?” She warned him that once she marked his neck there was no going back. Tyler didn’t care, he needed her, it couldn’t be that bad if she marked him. Right? The boy whined, urging her to bite him already, he needed a release, he wanted her to use him. Hoa parted her lips ever so slightly, gently sucking on the exposed flesh of his neck and preparing him for the bite, all while messing with the boy’s zipper. He knew what he was getting himself into and frankly he just didn’t give a shit. As long as she would be by his side through all of it. The boy groaned softly once he felt the small sharp pain of her fangs digging into him, the pain shortly turned to pleasure as she started to drain him. He could feel the ecstasy and see the constellations as he felt his cock spring free from the restraints of his jeans and boxers, his member twitching erratically as he bucked his hip into the air in search of her touch.

Hoa’s lips left his neck, thin streams of blood streaming from the bite mark. He whined at the loss of contact, he tried to chase her warmth but she stopped him. Leading the boy to the bed she grabbed his chains and locked them around his wrists, his eyes widened in shock as he tried to protest but was shushed when she placed a finger against his lips.

“Be good for me?” Her voice came out as sweet as honey, “Please?” She held his arms above his head by the chains, her eyes clouded with lust as she started to unbutton his shirt. The boy whimpered in anticipation but followed her every word, he worshiped her. He wanted to be good for her, to behave for her. Hoa smiled softly at his response, kissing his lips before she wriggled out of her bottoms. A flow of precum dripping down his length as he watched her remove her clothes before him, he tried to reach out to her to touch her but she chastised him. No touching yet. “Hands to yourself, Barista Boy.” She smirked as he pouted, she was enjoying this as much as he was. Once she was free from all her garments she straddled the boy, Tyler bucked his hips up into her impatiently. He felt that if she didn’t touch him soon he would explode, Hoa sighed before sinking herself down on his length slowly, he was bigger than she had expected. A sharp exhale left her lungs as she finally managed to slide down every inch of him, he moaned in response to having her tight core squeezing around him- swallowing him whole. She was so warm and tight that he almost came from the touch of her. He thrust his hips up into her, too excited and needy to care if anyone heard them, his breath heavy and ragged as his chest slowly rose and fell.

“Please.” He almost cried, “I want you.”

“So impatient today,” she clicked her tongue teasingly, “Didn’t I tell you to be good for me?” She quickly rolled her hips against his causing him to cry out in pleasure, he was moaning her name and clenching his fists- desperate to cling onto something, anything. Just as his moans left his lips she chastised him again, placing a finger to his lips and warning him that if he made another sound she would stop. He obeyed reluctantly, he just wanted to finish inside her and please her. He wasn’t making this easy at all, the adrenaline rushed in her veins while she started to bounce up and down his twitching cock- she could feel he was close.

“Are you gonna cum?” She asked, her tone somewhat mocking him, “Do you wanna cum? Hm?”

“I wanna cum!” He hiccupped, the pleasure too much for him to handle. Her warm hands were gliding over his now bare chest, she gently placed a hand over his heart and kissed his nose. He whined when she drew herself farther from him. 

“Don’t finish without my permission,” she smirked, the look on his face was filled with desperation and want, he was so pathetic. “Can you follow my directions like a good boy?” Tyler nodded, his breathing uneven, he wanted to be a good boy just for her. She smiled and kissed his lips softly before returning to bouncing on his cock, strings of precum decorating the walls of her pussy as she bit her lip to stifle her moans. Tyler wanted so badly to touch her, to grab her and fuck himself into her until they were both satisfied. She would slowly pull herself off his length, leaving him exposed to the cold air of the room, before quickly sliding back down hard. It was too much.

“H-Hoa!” He whimpered, not giving a damn about her request to stay silent, his cock throbbing uncontrollably, “Please- I wanna-” Before he could finish his sentence she was shushing him, cooing softly as she caressed his cheek. This was enough to drive him to the edge as thick, hot ropes of white shot up inside her. Splattering and covering her insides with his seed, Tyler bucked his hips up as he chased his orgasm, he didn’t care now that he had disobeyed her. He got the release he needed. Unaware of the devious smile that was on her face. With one last thrust up into her core the girl collapsed onto him, moaning into his neck as she reached her orgasm shortly after. To him it was pure bliss, if only he could hear how pathetic his little whines sounded. The two of them lay there for a bit, regaining their breath as their minds cleared, the boy kissed her cheek- eyes still clouded with lust and want.

“Did I say you could cum?” The girl reprimanded before she took off the restraints around his wrists, “As punishment, you get to clean up down there.” She repositioned herself so that she was sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the bed, motioning that the boy get on his knees before her. He obeyed every command, his cock covered in both of their arousal, she ran a hand through his hair and smiled down at him while spreading her legs. Revealing the mess he had made inside her, his cum glistening as it leaked out of her cunt, he felt his cock twitch again at the sight of it. Before she could give him any commands or directions he was already lapping at the mess between her thighs, his tongue greedily. The sounds that left her mouth were music to his ears, he tried his best to burn it into his memory. 

“So eager,” Hoa giggled through labored breaths, “You didn’t even wait for my command and you’re already licking up our mess. Such a good boy.” There it was again. Her praises only encouraged him to go faster, deeper, he wanted to taste every part of her. A gasp of pleasure escaping her lips as he flicked his tongue over her swollen clit, she placed a hand on his head to steady herself while he took his fill. He plunged his tongue deeper inside her, poking that sweet sensitive spot, earning a mewl from her as he did his job. 

“My good boy, huh?” Her voice laced with want as he could feel her walls tighten around him, she was close again. Tyler nodded, his tongue leaving her core to kiss at her inner thighs. She was beautiful. He let her catch her breath before letting his tongue assault her glistening cunt. He had already cleaned up the mess inside her but he didn’t want to stop now. Not when she was so close. Tyler harshly gripped her thighs, knowing full well he’d leave a mark, he didn’t care. He wanted the whole campus to know that she was his, that he was her good boy. With one last jab of the tongue she came undone. She rode out her orgasm a second time, this time on his tongue. The boy moaned at the taste of her, he would never grow tired of her- he wished she’d never grow tired of him. His cock leaked precum as she made sounds he’d never even heard before, she grabbed a fistfull of his hair as she rolled her hips against his tongue, slowly coming to a finish. 

Before Tyler could say or do anything he was already pinned on the bed. The girl fell between his legs, her slick tongue wrapping around his cock. He couldn’t help but moan out her name again as she took every inch down her throat, bobbing her head up and down and making sure to run the tip of her tongue along his sensitive tip, he felt his second orgasm build up- not slowly like the last one, but rapid like a wildfire. She sucked his cock while swirling her tongue around every bit of him, taking in his taste- like salted caramel- she was too caught up in the moment that she let her guard down, the boy took this as his chance to push his cock deeper down her throat. To make her gag on every inch he had to give.

“Fuck,” his head thrown back in pleasure as he held her down, enjoying the sounds of her gagging and choking on his length, “Princess- I-” he lost all control, he was roughly fucking her throat with no remorse. As if he were getting revenge for the way she had teased and humiliated him while she had her fun with him. The room was filled with wet sounds of lust and pent up rage, Tyler wanted to cum down her pretty little throat- sure her mouth was good for sarcastic and snarky remarks but god was it better around his cock. She glanced up at him with his cock in her mouth, the sight was just enough to drive him to the edge and with one last thrust, his cum overflowed in her throat and mouth; she tried to swallow every drop but there was too much. She choked on his seed, looking down at her, he felt powerful- he could stare at her like this forever. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up,” he finally said as he lifted her off the ground and started carrying her to the bathtub, “Am I still your good boy?”

#tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin x oc #wednesday fic #wednesday netflix #angst #dom tyler galpin #sub tyler galpin #just pure smut