#scarecrow loves his husband

[nevertoomanyspiders]

yeah shrug

#doodles #tin man as a barista wouldn't leave my head because his head as a moka pot is such a fun image #dude looks like those well-groomed bearded hipsters with ponytails #scarecrow loves his husband #tincrow #scarecrow of oz

[reiding-writing]

hi red !! i'm sending through a rec for your climacteric event hehehehe <3

spencer reid x fem!reader with the colour prompts red 1 ("You're bleeding."), green 2 ("You're safe here, I promise."), and purple 1 ("You know you're my best friend, right?") please? LOVE YOU LOADS RAHHHH

SCARECROWS [CLIMACTERIC]

1. “You’re bleeding.”

2. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

1. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”

WARNINGS: reader injury, blood duh, mentions of being stabbed <3

spencer reid x reader || hurt/comfort || 1.6k || event page!!

a/n: you adding the direct quotes made my job so much easier in finding them rip 😭 thanks for the request ml <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

Sometimes you wondered why you joined the FBI.

If by making one different decision you’d be in a completely different career in a different part of the country with a husband and children living in a two story house with a white picket fence.

Spencer would probably fill you in on the butterfly effect, how a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the trajectory of the wind and spin into a tornado, or in your case, leave you stranded and unarmed in an overgrown cornfield with your only company being the crows flying overhead.

It was arguably, definitely, your fault, but what were you supposed to do when the unsub was running off into the night after you’d finally tracked him down.

He’d slipped under the radar for too long, you weren’t going to let it happen again.

Though you weren’t going to lie, you were starting to regret not waiting for the rest of the team.

How were you supposed to know that the welfare check you were sent on would turn into a chase?

They were twelve minutes out last time you checked. You didn’t have signal anymore, who knew how close they were now.

All you knew was that you were a sitting duck with an empty magazine in an unfamiliar location with a light level so low you could barely see your own feet.

You’d lost the unsub a good few minutes ago, and you weren’t about to stand around with nothing to protect yourself with, so you started running back the way you came, hopeful that it would bring you out back at the farmhouse, with floodlights and a phone signal.

You weren’t that lucky.

You never were.

—

“Oh my god—“ Emily sounds like she’s seen a ghost as she cups her left hand over her mouth, her right lowering to her side until her gun is limply resting in her fingers.

Her face is a mix of relief, astonishment and absolute horror, and as the team follow her gaze they mirror one by one until the whole group is frozen in abject shock.

You were alive, thank god, but you were also stumbling backwards out of the corn field like a final girl in a horror movie, completely disheveled and torn up with your attention completely focused on the rows of stalks in front of you like you were afraid something was going to pop out and finish you off.

The sight was enough for Spencer to feel like he was going to throw up his stomach, although whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t exactly sure.

Either way he was pocketing his gun and practically sprinting in your direction the second he got a full view of you, no care for what you were running from in his mind whatsoever.

At least you were okay.

“Hey-” His hand barely grazes over your shoulder before your instincts kick in and you swing your elbow outwards with the intent of sending it straight into his face.

It hits him directly underneath his nose, sending his neck back sharply to stop any worse injury occurring under the force of your arm.

It doesn’t deter him though, and he doesn’t so much as even cover his nose from the pain as he takes your arms in his hands to swivel you in his direction so that you can see that you aren’t in danger.

“Hey- Hey, it’s just me you’re okay, you’re safe here I promise,”

The flicker of absolute terror in your eyes makes him swear his heart is going to shatter, and even as he watches it fizzle out under the realisation that he wasn’t someone to be afraid of that small pit in his stomach didn’t disappear.

You looked bad.

Your hands were grazed and raw, you were covered in mud, half of your shirt had been ripped from the hem and tied around your left thigh — presumably as some sort of makeshift bandage, and you were so much paler than you usually were, all of the colour completely drained from your face until you looked almost translucent under the mix of moonlight and blared foglights.

“You’re bleeding— Did I do that? I’m sorry—” You reach up your hand towards and he swerves to take it in his own with a shake of his head, clasping his fingers gently around your shaking palms, careful not to irritate the angry red covering them.

“Don’t worry about me, are you okay? What happened?” His eyes roam anxiously over your frame, lingering specifically on the torn piece of fabric around your thigh that is slowly but surely turning from a charcoal grey to a dark maroon the longer you stand talking.

“I- He ran and- and I followed him and then I lost him and- I don’t- He doubled back on me and I didn’t-” Half of the words coming out of your mouth were almost completely incoherent, and he could see your pupils refusing to dilate even under the direct beam of one of the SUVs’ headlights.

“Okay okay, calm down, take a breath for a second,” Spencer gives your arms a small squeeze to cut off your attempt at an explanation, glancing over your shoulder where the team is still grouped together, with Morgan and Hotch on the phone — presumably for an ambulance and some backup respectively— and the others watching you cautiously, unsure whether they should join in on Spencer’s examination of your health.

“How did you hurt your leg?” You follow Spencer’s gaze downwards towards your thigh, and it’s like the second your eyes recognise what it is you completely loose control of all of your motor functions from waist down.

“Woah—” Spencer takes the sudden change in your weight distribution in his stride, or at least he tries to, shifting his arms underneath your armpits to stop you from hitting the ground underneath you and supporting your weight with his own as he stumbles a few steps backwards. “Guys—”

Emily is at your side immediately, alleviating some of your weight onto herself so the two of them can hold you upright.

“He had a weapon…” You wince under the searing pain in your leg, the adrenaline wearing off fast and hard now that your body knows it’s no longer in danger.

“What kind of weapon?” The concern seeps from Spencer’s voice to soak into your skin, leaving your heart to accelerate under the knowledge that you were injured bad.

“A uh… fork, like a gardening fork… He stabbed me with it…” Although more coherent now, your voice was slowly fading into small mutters and whispers, like the exhaustion in your body was catching up to your mind and making even your tongue too languished to move. “I’m really tired…”

“Hey no- not yet-” Emily shakes her head with a conviction. “There’s an ambulance on the way, you have to stay awake until then,”

“But…”

“Emily‘s right, stay awake you’ll be fine,” Spencer sounds like he’s more trying to convince himself than you as him and Emily support your weight back towards the cluster of SUVs, and the added weight of your head resting against his shoulder doesn’t help his anxiety whatsoever. “Hey, come on…”

He lifts his shoulder slightly to shift your head and you let out a soft noise of discontentment. “I’m awake I’m awake, just conserving my energy…”

“Just keep your eyes open okay?”

You give him a small hum as the two of them sit you down on the hood of one of the cars, and Emily leaves you in Spencer’s care to check with Morgan on the arrival of the ambulance.

“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” You turn your head a little further into Spencer’s shoulder as he becomes the sole pillar of your support, blinking slowly in an attempt to keep your eyes open.

“Don’t say that to me right now,” He shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, a dark line forming between his eyes as the skin pinches together in his worry.

“But you are though,”

“You can remind me of that after you’re in the hospital,”

“I hate hospitals,” You let out a small, fatigued huff, rolling your eyes at the prospect. “I’m gonna be in there for god knows how long and I just wanna find this guy before he hurts anyone else…”

“Well, he has hurt you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Spencer’s tone contradicts itself between concern and relief. You’re alive, but you’re not in good shape. “We need to make sure that you’re okay before anything else,”

And in an act of holy divination — or just coincidence if Spencer was concerned — right as he mentions making sure that you’re okay the blaring lights of the called ambulance come into view, joined by a shrill, sharp ring that seems to echo over the field.

You all but hobble over to it once it’s parked, successful only in the fact that Spencer is actually supporting more of your weight than you were.

At least he stays by your side the entire time.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

[thesuperiorrobin]

➳ Reminder that all of these are Female reader insert

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── one shots ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✶| Headline |

➳ Dating Damian Wayne was It’s pros and cons, cons being the press follows you almost every where when you’re alone or with Damian.

✶| Truth hurts |

➳ you find the truth about that scar on his chest

✶| He has feelings? | part two |

➳ Damian has been coming home late after his patrol, coming home smelling like strong feminine perfume. His brother follow him one night and they are in for a surprise

✶| Her laughter brings me joy |

➳Damians is in loved with the way you laugh. His brothers tease him about it

| “I promise I’m not scared of you” |

➳scarecrow uses you as bait and an experiment for his fear toxin leaving you in fear of someone precious to you

✶ | Is that my shirt? |

➳ playing with Titus a fun but sometimes he gets a little to competitive

✶| “Kind hard to focus when you look like that” |

➳ Damian find you staring at him while he does his daily workout session

✶ | “I don’t like sleeping alone anymore” |

➳ Damian confronts you after acting weird this past couple of days only to find out you haven’t been sleeping, but for what reason?

✶| “He’s only soft with you ” |

➳ Damians really whipped for you if he’s nice

✶ | “He lost his virginity!?” |

➳ the batfamily notice Damian acting off these past couple of months and come up with weird ideas as to why

✶ | “Don’t say a word about this” | Ft: Alfred|

➳ Pennyworth has to keep yet another secret

✶ | Media is stupid |

➳ you and Damian play with social apps—giving people taste of your love life

✶ | “Dance with me ” |

➳ you and Damian dance together at one of Bruce’s Galas and the attention is set on both of you.

✶ | lipstick Stain | part 1 | Part 2 |

➳ a TikTok trend that leads to the media coming crazy

✶ | “Crazy idea let’s make out” |

➳ teens being teens Y’know?

✶ | punished by my body |

➳ period are never fun. Especially when they keep you from killing you for seeing Damian.

✶ | untitled |

✶ | Rainy days |

➳ Damian realizes that the rain rain always put you in a mood—getting moody once you fix your attention one the thunder rather then his lips

✶ | Thoughts |

➳ Damian is neglecting his duties as being your husband—I’m result puts bad thought in your head that make your two confront him about it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Headcannons ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✮ Damian Wayne, the blood son of playboy billionaire Bruce way. Damian Wayne doesn’t live up to the playboy title like his father back in the day

✮ Fem!Reader having a crush on Damian Wayne

✮ Boyfriend!Damian Wayne

✮ Hispanic!Fem!Reader

✮ Damian Wayne doesn’t get crushes

✮ husband! Damian Wayne

✮ bat boys type

✮ random Damian Wayne headcannons

✮ Platonic reader

✮ Quality time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── scenarios─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

❀ Damian Wayne hates galas , more then he hates his brothers.

❀ Damian ‘Clingy’ Wayne

❀ his bed is more comfortable

❀ “I loves you’s” coming from him

❀ Damian’s not a big fan of holidays

❀ thinking about league of assassins! Damian Wayne

❀ he’s sick to his stomach every time he looks at you

❀ never question why’s your hair is always up

❀ Damian doesn’t get sick often but when he does…

❀ argument | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Random─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✄ incorrect quotes!

One, two, three, four, five, Six, Seven(Jason Todd)

✄ Instagram!

One, two, three

✄ message between you two!

One, two

This is a years worth of writing that I managed to put on one page 🥲

Just let me know if any of the links aren’t working

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian x reader #batman x fem!reader #damian al ghul x reader #batfamily #batfamily x reader #damian scenarios #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x you #masterlist

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | 0.1 | J. Seresin

masterlist | next chapter

You’re thinking of the past, right as the future is about to change forever.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, childhood friends to lovers, country singer!Jake, smut, pining, blissful ignorance, other warnings to follow. wc: 3k (18+ minors do not interact)

A U G U S T 1 9 7 4 / F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 1

Driftwood — small town southwestern Texas, situated in Lockheart County. Springs, stony hills, and steep canyons. It’s good land, occupying a tiny patch of earth in the middle of the Edwards Plateu. That’s what they all say: good land, good soil. Large acreages of wheat for miles around, grown annually for harvest and winter through spring livestock grazing. The remaining two-thirds of the region is rangeland devoted to cattle ranching. Ranches in this region often seem older than the landscape itself. Lockheart County’s livestock industry is nationally appreciated, it was, even back then. Ranches here are huge, they’ve been there for generations. The town of Driftwood, itself, sits in a valley. It holds on to the people who settle there just like it holds onto the weight of that thick, summer heat all through the day. So hot that even the trees bend and furl like they’re seeking shade too.

Back then, Driftwood was even smaller than it is now. Post Office, Church, two schools, a fleet of locally owned stores on Main Street and a few other buildings for the fathers who weren’t ranchers or ranch hands to work.

On that day in early August, most of Driftwood’s thousand person population were nestled amongst the pews of St. Augustine’s Church, just outside of town. It’s a mile and a half from Main Street, and a mile and a half from the furthest fence on the Seresin Ranch. Their house is a sprawling thing that Bill’s grandfather had built — they haven’t got that kind of money now, and they didn’t on that morning in August. They’ve got three boys, who were squirming around the front pew, melting into the aged wood below them in their smart white button ups. They’ve got another boy too, standing behind Pastor James, holding a processional candle.

Jake’s their youngest. He was nine back then. Small for his age, especially when you stood him next to his brothers and their broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was beyond blond, lightened from the sun. His cheeks dusted with brown freckles and his eyes always narrowed into a type of John Wayne kind of squint. Jake loved John Wayne back then. He loved the cowboys on his bed sheets, and the fact he could see the cattle from his bedroom window. All he wanted back then was a pistol on his hip and a one-way ticket to El Dorado.

Mary-Lynn Seresin grew up in Driftwood, just like her husband had. She had known Bill since she was a little girl, and she had always known that she would marry him one day. Her nails were polished pink that day, sitting pretty atop the procession card as she fans herself with it. Two pews behind, you could still see a droplet of sweat bead from her neat blonde hairline and trail into the collar of her blue polka-dotted Sunday dress.

On that particular Sunday, the fans had packed up and stopped working. So, all six hundred of you who could make it out to St. Augustine’s we’re trapped in there — not just with Pastor James’ storytelling, but with the thick heat pressing down on the entire valley feeling like it had all been shut in this one room with the rest of you.

At the front, Jake Seresin’s cheeks were red, his hair was beading with sweat and his scarecrow, twig-like arms were trembling around the cross. He struggled with its weight and you had watched his green eyes flash out towards the crowd, briefly landing on his mother. Mary-Lynn gave him a proud nod. Bill was staring at the stagnant ceiling fans above their heads. You, were staring right at Jake.

Eight years old yourself, just eight weeks younger than Jake is, you have known that little grass-stain your entire life. In fact, Mary-Lynn and your mother found out that they were expecting just days apart. They had been in the same high school grade as girls, had married men who were good friends, and back then your mother had worked in the town’s hair salon five days a week. They grew very close through their pregnancies. Your mother was the first one to send flowers when Mary-Lynn went into labour a month and a half early.

Jake’s John-Wayne-Squint deepened through the heavy air, watching you like you were both about to draw pistols and settle this like men — right in the middle of Pastor James’ final verse. Your pigtails and your white Sunday dress weren’t fooling him. His robes and the heavy cross in his hand weren’t fooling you. Clearly following his brother’s gaze, Daniel Seresin turns and peers at you over his shoulder. He’s the closest in age to Jake, but he’s still five years older. Thirteen then and too grown up for childish squabbles like those, he just turned back to the front and shook his head.

The first three of the Seresin boys were all born within three consecutive years. Matthew, Noah and Daniel. They’re each tall like their mother, blonde like her too, and have inherited their father’s linebacker shoulders. Noah was fourteen and about to be a freshman in high school. After he fixed the chain on your bike at the beginning of summer, you were full-blown head-over-heels in love with him back then. You thought you were anyway.

Jake, however, had been in your class since Kindergarten and you had been forced to share your toys with him for even longer than that.

His arms trembled before you and your mouth had twitched. Neither one of you was listening to the service. It was almost over. Just a few more minutes until Pastor James wrapped up and the people of Driftwood and poured out of this sauna and out into the dry, morning sun.

Quickly, you shot a look at your mother sitting at your side. She was listening intently, staring right ahead with her neatly steamed clothes and her hair-sprayed hair. You’ll always remember the heavy smell of her rose-scented perfume. Every time you inhale it, you’re sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her fix her face in her vanity. Then, you looked to your father on the other side of you. Exactly the same. Pleased, you turn your attention back to the youngest Seresin boy.

Scrunching your nose, you had sat forwards just slightly and stuck your tongue out at him. Quite the diss back then. Jake’s green eyes had widened, sweat beading down his back under his white shirt and his service robes.

Driftwood is a safe place. It’s a fantastic town to raise children. The schools aren’t overcrowded and cars don’t speed through the centre of town. Country roads are a different story. But no one bats an eyelid, especially not back then, when their children are out of sight.

Mary-Lynn was busily detailing the events of her dinner party that coming Saturday to a group of women that are invited. She’s quite the hostess still. Your mother stood amongst them. Neither one of them were concerned about where their children were in the slightest. Until, that is, the sounds of muffled screaming filled their ears. The mothers of Driftwood rush to the commotion in their kitten heels and pretty dresses. Your mother was the first around the corner. She would recognise the sound of her baby’s screaming anywhere. But you weren’t the one in trouble. As usual, you had been causing it.

Your white dress grass-stained and muddy, dirt under your fingernails and covering your formerly white, frilled socks. You were kneeling. You haven’t yet noticed the crowd of women rushing in your direction. You’ve got Mary-Lynn Seresin’s youngest son pressed into the dirt, kneeling on his back and twisting his arm uncomfortably behind him.

“Say Uncle!” You demanded.

“You’re so dead! Get off!” Jake struggled under you, screaming with all the force that his growing lungs would allow. His voice must have been audible across the entire valley with how he was hollering. Freckled cheek pressed into the dirt, his white shirt was destroyed and he was in the middle of ruining his shoes with how he was scrambling for purchase in the dried dirt.

Quickly, your mother had grabbed you under your arms and hauled you off of the boy, spinning you to face her.

“What do you think you’re doing young lady?”

“He started it! — He said my dress was ugly!”

“It is ugly, you look like a girl!” Jake huffed from behind you as he had stumbled onto his feet and taken a look down at his church clothes. Slowly, he had lifted his gaze to look at his mother. Sullen and worried looking, he began to pout. It wasn’t working. Mary-Lynn had raised three boys by then, she knew when they were trying to play innocent.

The thing about growing up so close together, is that approaching double digits was a confusing time. It was around that age that your mother began to put her foot down when it came to all of those tom-boy activities. Girls might roughhouse and come home with holes in their jeans and mud on their faces, but young ladies didn’t. The dress was her idea.

Jake’s comment had been passing, just a whisper as his family had headed into church ahead of yours, but he was right — you did look like a girl. Back then, that wasn’t a compliment coming from him. So, you had cornered him outside and pummeled him into the dirt. Fair is fair.

“Mary-Lynn, I am so sorry about her — send me the dry-cleaning bill. I’m sorry, we should go.” Your mother had sighed in a hurry, frowning down at your ruined clothes, then looking towards Jake’s. You’ll always remember the smile on Mary-Lynn’s face after. Not pity, because she knew you were in a lot of trouble for this. Just fondness. She had gently patted your mother’s forearm and shaken her head.

“Let’s finish our chat. They’re already filthy. Let them play.”

Looking up at her, you hadn’t understood why she was siding with you back then. You had just almost broken her son’s arm for sport. As you grew, Mary-Lynn Seresin was always on your side. In her kitten heels and dresses, she remembered being a dirt-covered little girl once too. No one was telling her son that it was time yet, to be a man. There’s no harm in letting you be young a little longer.

Your mother had looked uncertain, but people in Driftwood always looked to Mary-Lynn for advice. She had somehow managed to keep four boys in line perfectly, her parenting expertise was studied by those around her. Finally, she had given you a brief nod.

You remember spinning on the delicate almost-heel of your church shoes, rounding on Jake, ready to brawl. You have no clue where the stick came from, but he was armed when you had turned around — but Jake always fought fair. He tossed you a stick of your own and took aim. Green eyes narrowed, he was trying to look down his freckled nose at you, but you were taller then.

“She’s gonna marry that boy someday.” Mary-Lynn Seresin had huffed with a wistful smile, watching the mud-caked children tear off through the field once again. This time, with sticks in hands and violent intent plastered across their dirty faces.

You’re not eight anymore. Jake’s not nine. This time of the year, you both happen to be twenty-six. You aren’t trying to kill him with a stick anymore either. You’re sitting at your favourite bar in Driftwood — there are four now — watching your best friend up on stage. He’s always confident. He has been since he hit that growth spurt when he was twelve. Since then, Jake has been unstoppable. But on stage is when he really shines.

The Dark Star feels like an old bar. It’s packed every Friday night. It smells like malt and smoke and Jake’s been playing here every Saturday since he was seventeen. This is the last time that it will ever be like this, and you don’t even know it yet. Jake’s in the middle of an original. People around here know him, they know his music. They might not get all the words right, but he always gets people singing.

Jake isn’t small for his age now. He grew into his nose, and he inherited those big shoulders, his skin’s tanned from his days out at the ranch. He’s strong and funny and kind. Sometimes it catches you off guard, when you turn your head and find a man in place of the little boy you once knew.

You’re in a booth, talking numbers. It turns out that you had inherited your mother’s knack for business strategy, and Jake’s way with words had rubbed off on you long ago.

You don’t look like the little girl Jake had once known either. If he was concerned about you looking like a girl before, then you can only imagine how dismayed he must be when he looks at you now. Breasts and everything.

“It’s more than potential, Stu — you saw how crazy people were for him when he was opening for The Ashford Band.” You tell him, fingers curled around a brown glass bottle. This is already settled, the deal is already done. You knew from the second that he walked in that you had Stu Adler suckered.

This is a deal that you’ve been mulling over for a couple of months now. Getting Jake on his first headline tour. His debut album came out last week and it’s doing well, but the record label is tiny and the publicity deal is even smaller. Jake’s making pennies compared to other people in his genre, but you’re about to change all of that.

“Six months is a long time on the road. It’s a different lifestyle,” Stu’s dishwater grey eyes flicker briefly up from the plunging neckline of your top to meet your gaze. He’s an older man, with a once successful career in Los Angeles. Now, he spends his time scrounging small towns for talent. He’s just a stepping stone in your plans for Jake. “You’re sure he can handle it?”

Stretching your legs out, you scoff incredulously at the accusation as Jake’s last song dwindles behind you. The beer bottle is cool against your lips. Stu swallows, watching your lips purse around the rim to drink. You know he’d die for the chance to get his wrinkly, old dick in your mouth — it’s why Jake’s about to get the best deal of his life.

“Jake? — Of course.”

“Can you?” Stu asks. The light on you for once makes you cringe. Even so, your poker face doesn’t falter. Calmly staring across the table at him, a small smile on your face. “Y’know, he’s going to need a manager that I can rely on. I.e. — one that he won’t dump, sweetheart.”

This only makes your smile grow. “Jake is like a brother to me. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

It’s that lie that secures the deal. Six months, a hundred and sixty dates across the US. Mostly small venues, but it’s his first headline tour — and it’s all because of you. Because of that one little white lie. Letting Stu think that he’s got a chance with you. Letting him think that you’ve never fucked Jake.

You have. Twice, already by this point. Once, after senior prom. Your date was an asshole and his was cruel. You’d parked his truck out in the west pasture of the Seresin ranch and got a little too drunk under the stars, and wound up with your legs hiked up over his shoulders. The second time was Thanksgiving two years ago. Your family joined his. All of his brothers have fiancés or wives now. Sharing Jake’s bed in his childhood home that night, neither one of you was drunk. You were just lonely, and maybe bored.

Tonight, there are a couple of different factors at play. Sure, by the time that you and Jake collapse down onto that red, velvet couch in the Dark Star’s ‘dressing room’, you’ve had plenty to drink. You’re not quite as lonely as you were that thanksgiving, though.

You turn your head and he’s grinning at the ceiling, chest heaving from the energetic final song. His arms stretch along the backs of the couch, his eyes closed for a moment. You watch him silently.

“You’re incredible.” Jake’s half-cut on an unhealthy mix of tequila and vodka, but smiling, eyes still shut, chin still pointed towards the sky. He gives his head a small shake. “A hundred and sixty dates.”

A smile plasters itself across your lips. As drunk as you are, it’s nice to be complimented for your hard work. “Yeah, we’ll see if you still think I’m so incredible when you’re living off of burgers and beer and still have eighty shows to go.”

The smell of cigarettes lives within the fibre of this room. Part of the furniture, nestled amongst the cracks in the red painted walls. There’s the couch that you’re sitting on, and an illuminated vanity against the far wall, and then a coat stand. It’s not much of a dressing room, but it’s fine.

You just wish it would stop spinning.

“I mean it.” His fingers rest atop your denim clad thigh, patting platonically. You hear him sigh from beside you. He squeezes at the supple skin under his hand. “Thank you.”

“Jake… since when do you have manners?” You ask him. Both of you are sitting with your eyes shut on this old, probably dirty, velvet couch. It’s five in the morning. The two of you might have gone a little overboard with celebrating. Wayne Mayhew, the owner of the Dark Star might have threatened to kick you both out of his bar if you didn’t finally get off of his damn stage ten minutes ago.

But there’s a high buzzing between the two of you that feels electric. Wordlessly, you know Jake feels it too. That this is the last night. Here, in this shitty hometown bar. Everything is about to change. After this tour, nothing will ever be the same again — for either of you.

Jake’s thumb trails back and forth in just one small pattern, reminding you that it’s there on your thigh.

It’s been on your mind all day, for no reason at all. That Sunday in August in 1974. Your ruined church dress and the fat bruise on Jake’s cheek the next day when you had seen him at the market. The start of it all.

Those late night drives and all the evenings you studied together. Jake’s football games and his band practices — back when he had thought he wanted to be in a band. Him drying your tears and making you laugh. Growing up together, talking for hours and hours about all of the possibilities. This was everything Jake had ever wanted, and he’s thanking you.

Your eyelids weigh double what they normally do — heavy as you blink open your eyes and turn your head. This time, he’s looking across at you. The tips of his fingers brush the inseam of your blue, low-rise jeans. His face is calm, he isn’t saying anything and he’s far from doing anything either.

Scrunching your nose, you poke your tongue out at him. Across the couch, Jake lifts his brows. The corner of his mouth twitches. He’s got stubble now. Stubble, and chest hair and an Adam’s apple. But that look, that glint in his eye that’s just daring you to try him has always been the same.

Jake’s fingers twitch, pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Dim lighting, fifteen year old red paint on each of the four walls, and that perpetual cigarette smell — it’s hardly a romantic fantasy. And this is far from a good idea.

But it’s Jake. Confident, loud Jake who gets shy when he’s around someone he really likes. Funny, smart-mouthed Jake who under it all is a great listener. Goofy, habitual Jake who has the nighttime routines of a fifty year old housewife.

Strong-willed, handsome, Jake, your best friend — who’s looking at you like you’re his next meal.

…

@fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot

#jake smut #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin fic #jake seresin #Glen powell #Jake hangman Seresin #top gun: maverick

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Soft Yan!Jonathan Crane’s innocent/naive wife finding out about him being The Scarecrow

ugh I love yan! Jonathan

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲

Warnings- Yandere themes, manipulation

“I’ll see you later, love.” He said, giving you a kiss and quickly leaving the door. He was always in a rush, so it was nothing unusual.

You sighed when he left, staring at the wall for a little and getting up for what you usually did when you were left home alone.

Jonathan’s work was busy- time consuming. You knew that, you always missed when he was gone.

After cooking, watching tv, you decided to get up and clean some. It was late at night, Jonathan should be getting home any second now.

Cleaning up the room, you spotted something in the closet. It was a case in the corner, something about it was odd.

You looked around, wondering if you should open it or not.

You decided to anyways, curiosity getting the best of you.

You opened it up, a little button inside along with a mask. Furrowing your eyebrows, you picked up the mask and you didn’t hear the door open, or your husbands footsteps walking towards the room.

He called your name,then he looked down, seeing you looking at the mask, hands trembling, face covered in fear.

He sighed, shaking his head and slowly walking towards you.

You looked up at him, hands trembling, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Jon.. I’m sorry! I didn’t-“

“Sh.” He said quickly. He took the mask, and looked back at the case to make sure you hadn’t inhaled any of his fear toxins. He was now crouching down to your level.

“Did you touch that?” He looked to the button.

You shook your head, and he put the mask back in the case, stuffing it back in the corner.

“I suppose you were gonna have to find out one way or another. C’mon.” He said, standing up and holding his hand out, helping you stand up.

You both sat on the bed, he held both your hands in his, messing with the band on your finger.

“Sometimes, there’s bad people at my job. People who deserve the pain. You understand that, right?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes I have to use those bad people for things. Experiments, Guinea pigs, basically. I use them so we can better understand fear.”

You knew about his obsession about fear all too well.

“But, you don’t have to worry about any of that, okay…? As long as you stay inside, here, you’re safe with me.” He kissed your forehead.

You slowly nodded, you trusted Jonathan with your life. So you could trust him with this.

And he made sure you would stay, he started to install cameras without you knowing. He put more locks on the outside of the door.

“It’s all for your safety, okay?” He said with a reassuring smile, giving you a kiss. The weird part was you believed him. You never let your curiosity get the best of you after that, because you believed him.

#jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane batman begins #jonathan crane the dark knight #jonathan crane cillian murphy #cillian murphy jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

#stardew valley #elliott x reader #elliott x farmer

[blueparadis]

❝ BACKWARDS ❞ + BYAKUYA KUCHIKI.

( cw. )—› f!reader, angst, stranger to (fre)enemies to lovers, canon typical elements, slowburn, widower!byakuya, soul society arc spoilers, arrange marriage , mention of death,smût descriptions. word count :: 3.2k | redirect to blog navigation.

( syn. )—› after an emotional whirlwind, byakuya was given a chance to recuperate his irrevocable losses but little did y/n know that it was not what he asked for and he could never have what he wanted to ask for; hence, she had to face all kinds of retaliation from him.

( notes. )—› submission for ‘a change of pace’ collab by @mekiza . also, please accept this Sawn ( @swanphantasm ) ; it is because of you that I became aware of how handsome ( and sad ) he is. well . . .he is not my favorite but i like him a lot, so much so that i wrote that same cliche trope with him. forgive me </3

Words do not express emotions and thoughts precisely. They always become a little different when they are expressed; a little distorted, a little foolish, and a little bitter at some times yet life still goes on carrying a bevy of misunderstandings. It has to go on at least for Byakuya, who was stripped of love and time. Time to grieve, give and forgive, time to heal, and time to fall in love again.

Another bright day washes over the lush green spread of the garden despite the despondency and the agony of losing his wife, Hisana Kuchiki, to illness, to mere illness . It has been a few months since he became the head of the family even though his grandfather was still alive. His grandfather thought it would be better if Byakuya became the head of the family while he has still time, time to supervise him to keep up the family's reputation at hard times. 

And so it began: the hypocrisy of rules. 

Ginrei Kuchiki, the former head of the Kuchiki clan, when death was knocking at his door declared that Byakuya needs to be re-married. He knew that even if he was the head of the family he had no freedom to exercise his wishes and desires. He was just a scarecrow now , not the head of the family. He wanted to protest. He was aware that he would have to re-marry since he is the only one to carry the family line but he did not know that it would be so soon. All he wanted was time but everyone was running sort of it. His grandfather once said that decisions made in haste yield no good. What happened to that now, huh? However, there was one thing he was free to do, and that is, to choose his wife regardless of the family background and bloodline. 

“You should be grateful that Byakuya has agreed to marry you even with all the rumors. He could have chosen a wife from the younger line of pure women” Y/N’s mother spoke as she kept on brushing her daughter’s hair, body shaking with excitement and tension brimming at her fingertips. She was not trying to hurt her. She only stated facts. Everyone knew about it. Y/N did too. Shihnōin Clan was one of the four noble families in the soul society. And the fate of the clan was hanging by the thread since Y/N’s previous marriage was full of woes. With no male heir she was the one to carry the bloodline. Even the distant families warded off when they had an ounce of the knowledge that Y/N was the reason for her husband’s death, for her own doom. And her father made it clear that she is too young to stay unmarried as soon as her husband was buried. No time to lament, nor to grieve. Tragic, is it not?

No. It is not. It was anything but not tragic. Sure, people talked, spun lies, and spread rumors but that is what they do, that is the only thing they know to do. Some said she poisoned her own husband; some said she was a witch of dark magic; some even go as far as saying that she had a secret lover who belonged to the low caste who killed her husband; But it did not matter what they said, it did not since if anything they helped to her to earn sympathy from the kinder souls, and Y/N’s mother made sure her daughter had no problem to have a stable life, finding her a proper husband and sealing the fate of Shihnōin clan with the Kuchiki clan. To people, it was more of an alliance, to the respective families, it was more of a marriage of convenience than a marriage. But to her it was a re-birth while to him it was just duty. 

It was the fourth of January when her heart beat again hearing the sound of carriage. He is here.  

Y/N could hear low voices from downstairs. Plain and prosaic but she could spot Byakuya’s voice out of them all. He specifically requested to see y/n alone and her parents did not express any objections. If she had not been married before, they would never have let her alone with a man, but as it was they thought they did not have to defend her virtue anymore. And Y/N could never tell them how wrong they were, that her previous marriage was never consummated. How shall she ever say that to him?

Byakuya was decent enough to knock and Y/N made no hurry to open the door. She bowed down, greeted him with a smile, and retreated towards the couch standing, waiting for him to follow her lead. “I hope you're aware of the circumstances of our meeting today. ” He seemed so restrained and controlled,  as if his emotions were bottled up so deep inside, not even he could reach them. It is a wonder how much of it was the result of his wife’s death and how much was his natural disposition. 

“Yes,” she said, hoping he could not see how nervous she was. She gestured toward the couch to the left. “Would you like to sit down for our talk?”Byakuya nodded. She sank down on the sofa, and he took the armchair across from her. She would have thought he would sit beside her, but he seemed content to keep as much space between them as was acceptable. 

“I assume your father told you that our wedding is planned for February 14th” Y/N  searched for a flicker of sadness or wistfulness in his voice, but there was nothing. She rested her hands in her lap, linking her fingers. There was less chance of him noticing her trembling that way. “Yes. He told me a few days ago.” Byakuya was courteous enough to give her the attention she needs. If all these were in his hands, he would not have been here. “I hope you're okay with this. With o-jii-sama’s health deteriorating and me being the head of the family, things are a little hasty. . .” Words became too heavy to reach her. She was bubbling with excitement that maybe, this marriage won't fail like the last one, maybe he won't flee with his secret lover while staging his death ( like her previous husband did ), and maybe he will see her as a woman enough. . . 

“Why did you choose me?” Y/N asked out of the blue unable to keep up with his calm demeanor anymore. She had been wondering about this ever since her father had told her about his agreement with Byakuya. She knew it was a question that she was not supposed to ask, not like this. Byakuya’s expression did not alter. 

“Of course. Many suggested your cousin but I didn’t want a  wife who’s barely of age. Unfortunately,  most women in their twenties are already married, and most widows are older than me or  have  children,  both  unacceptable  for a man in my position as you will probably understand.” She nodded. There were so many rules and etiquettes when it came to finding the right spouse, especially for a man in his position, which was why so many were shocked when y/n was announced as his future wife. Byakuya had stepped on many toes with that decision. “So you were the only logical choice. You are, of course, still quite young, but that can’t be changed.”

For a moment She was stunned into silence by his emotionless reasoning. She was not as naïve as she used to be, but she would have hoped at least part of the reason why Byakuya had chosen her was that he was attracted to her, found her pretty, or at least fascinating to some extent, but this cold explanation destroyed that small flicker of hope. 

“I’m twenty-five,” she exclaimed in a surprisingly calm voice. Maybe his aloofness rubbed off on her. If so, she would be known as the ice queen in no time. “That’s not young by our marriage standards.”

“Yes,  still five years younger than me” He sounded as if she was forcing him to marry her, as if one of the rumors, as they say, that y/n is a witch is true. His previous wife was barely a year younger than him and they had shared good five years of married life until she died due to illness on a fine morning on a spring day. 

“Then maybe you should look for another wife. I didn’t ask you to marry me.” The moment the words were out,  y/n  clamped a hand over her mouth, then met Byakuya’s gaze. He did not look angry, he did not look anything. His face was as it always was. Stoic and emotionless . “I’m sorry. That was very rude. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Byakuya has been sitting in the same manner as he did when he first took the armchair instead of the couch. He left the chair and walked towards her. With his hands now inside his slacks, his frame loomed over her. He took out his right hand, fisted, and kept the small velvet box on the side table. “Right. You shouldn't have.” Byakuya said as he noticed her eyes were still on the carpet. “But it's okay. I understand your concern.”

Her gaze flickered toward his right hand and her stomach plummeted. He was still wearing his old wedding ring. Another strange burst of disappointment filled her. If he wore it after all this time, he must still be in love with his dead wife, or was it a simple matter of habit? He noticed her gaze and for the first time his stoic mask slipped but it was gone so quickly that she thought she imagined it. Byakuya did not bother to explain and there was a knock on the door so he did not have the time either. With the exchange another set of pleasantries he left without a proper goodbye. 

The wedding day came sooner than expected. She barely had the time to count days. And as the elders of the family discussed, it was small with no engagement ceremony but with just close family members and friends. Y/N did not object, actually, no one asked for her opinion except her husband. But it would make a great fuss if she were to bring her opinions to light. Moreover, she had more serious things to worry about. If Byakuya came to know that she still had her virtue intact, it would be just a matter of minutes for her before Byakuya puts all the puzzle pieces together to get the whole picture. He is a cold, clever man. So, mercy was the last thing y/n expected from him. Her previous husband, her not-so-dead husband fled with his lover because the rules and the customs would have kept them apart. And, if Byakuya had any clue of what happened at backstage he would turn the world upside down, at least he was expected to do so.

Y/N was finally able to catch up with her life when she was in the carriage with her new husband. There was no time to decipher him with all the people around. This night was going to be her first proper wedding night but Byakuya made sure that there was no chance of it at all. He did not seem tired, or interested in her. She could not pin any moment where she caught him looking at her, not even once. Dread and relief filled her at the same time. By now it is okay to accept that she was the problem, not her fate, or him. Perhaps, she can keep the secret of her previous marriage enjoying the little freedom she has left in her life. 

The next morning was gorgeously sunny. When Y/N came downstairs she already found Byakuya on the other side of the dining table, with his breakfast and a rolled paper on a tray by his side. God knows, what news it holds? At least, not the one she was anticipating.

“I hope you slept well.” Byakuya broke the stifling silence that had made her think of all the possibilities that could end her life thinking of the contents of the letter. “I’ve already informed the staff to be here. Yesterday was an exception. Hope you did not have much problem without the staff not being around. They will be here at your beck and call, so you do not— was he mocking?

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Is something bothering you?” she nodded letting him know that there was no reason at all with a flimsy smile on her face. She could barely focus on eating the food. Byakuya noticed it too. “I thought you needed time.” his voice was coaxed with an apology. Of course. Byakuya would give her the very thing he was deprived of, for it had been his necessity too; Y/N’s glance switched to him and then to the food again. He did not look sorry though.

“As I said, That’s very kind of you.” She grabbed the tea cup and was ready to leave since there was no one to keep tabs on her etiquette and as such. If he wanted the marriage to work, then why should she keep trying all the time? all these hopes and anticipation would be the death of her if not the secret she is carrying with her.

“There will be a social gathering. On March 14th. You’re expected—She looked over her shoulder as the sound of the dragging chair made it to her ears. Byakuya hesitated before he spoke the rest, “I would like you to come with me.”

“Sure.”

Sure. Byakuya had his reasons to act the way he is acting. He was aware of the details of her marriage. Before visiting her, he made sure to do a background check and he did regret it when he recognized her previous husband. He had seen him in the land of the living. And, now he was not sure where exactly her loyalties lie: to him or to the man who left her. For now, he had no time to think about it. There were some grave matters that he had to handle.

Crest-fallen, a week prior to the gathering Ginrei Kuchiki took his last breath. There were lots of preparations and ceremonies to be done, but at the same time he could not afford to miss the meeting and so it all came down to y/n who had to shoulder most of the responsibilities while Byakuya just paid a visit to the meeting.

Time flew by as if someone were stealing it from them. Even though they spent the days under the same roof, Byakuya barely had a chance to speak to her or make things right. By the time he came to bed, she had already fallen asleep or was too tired to stay awake. Byakuya has been a light sleeper anyways. He often waited for her to be perfectly asleep so that he could slip under the same covers as hers. Y/N was too disappointed and angry to notice the small changes in him, in his gestures. Not that she tried, she did but Byakuya brushed her off every time. It was such a slow poison for her. She had made up her mind not to consummate this marriage unless they were asked for a child but fate never goes along with the human will. It opposes, always .

“You’re early,” Y/N said as Byakuya entered the room. Seeing her in a flimsy nightgown he looked away from her. She scowled when she noticed him looking away. 

“Could you wait for me? I need to refresh myself. I want to talk about something.”

Ah! finally, it's happening. She gave him a simple nod and slipped under the covers. Perhaps it was about an heir, or shifting into a different house or maybe a visit to other families or so; Y/N had no idea that her secret was going to slap her in the face.

“I see. How long have you been aware?” Y/n asked still facing away from him while Byakua was seated on the bed. “Since before our marriage.” Y/n turned and sat folding her legs, covering herself so that he does not have to look away while talking. “Ah! That’s why the cold shoulder.”

“No. No. I was just—

“Just thought that I might have a secret lover too?

Byakuya closed the gap a little, “Well, do you?” 

“Does it matter?”

Does it matter? Of course, it does. Byakuya did not respond not yet but Y/N could see his jaw tightening, muscles stiffing at the mere possibility of a ‘yes’.

She interjected, “Yeah! Thought so.” and left the bed, his sight heading towards the bathroom but Byakuya grabbed her hand and pulled her in his lap. She gasped loudly at such a sudden swift motion but more than so his bold voice declaring something so unexpected something so unbelievable that it turned her on more than it should. “Yes. it matters. It matters to me because I would be bothered, so much that I’m incapable of bearing the thought of losing you.”

Her breathing was heavy since not only his deep raspy voice stilled her motion but also made her thinking come to a halt. Byakuya slipped his hands under her gown earning a huge gasp as his lips touched her bare shoulders. Her body responded quickly, she arched feeling his cold and calloused fingers on her breasts, pinching her areola. “Tell me,”, his voice coated her skin with goosebumps, “do you want this, with me?” She turned her face, eyes holding the tears back, blurring her vision. She was burning with desire. How could she not?

“Yes.” Byakuya’s hands traveled down to her core, rubbing gently on her clit over the cloth. It was already damp. She could barely process all of these while his voice hinted impatience again, “then, tell me where you involved with him, in his act?” 

Her grasp on his thighs tightened as she struggled to stand up on her feet. With all the dim lights around it was not of any help. Byakuya pushed aside the fabric and touched the outer lips with more pressure than before. “Do you not want me?” Y/N has torn apart between keeping her self-respect and submitting her to him. She had tried countless times to get his attention, tried every lewd way to lure Byakuya that made her feel like nothing but a cheap whore.

“Do you not want me?” she managed to utter thinking of all those nights when she had to go to bed feeling like a mistress rather than a wife.

Byakuya verbalized holding her in his embrace tightly. “Yes. I do. I really do.”His voice reeked of agony and loneliness, his touch was so desperate yet so gentle. Y/N read him wrong, he was not playing games anymore. 

—

⌗ :: @sailewhoremoon @massivementalitynut @tokyometronetwork @underratedcharactercorner

#bleach x reader #bleach x female reader #bleach smut #byakuya smut #byakuya x reader #byakuya x you #byakuya x y/n #byakuya kuchiki #bleach byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x reader #byakuya kuchiki x you #byakuya kuchiki smut #bleach fanfiction #kuchiki byakuya #fanfics #fanfic #anime fic #anime fanfic #anime x reader #anime x y/n #anime x female reader #anime smut #manga x reader #manga smut #bleach tybw #bleach tybw arc #bleach spoilers #smut fanfiction #smut fic #smut fics

[quandaryqueen]

Mr. Freeze 2.0

Harley Quinn Series Jonathan Crane X Spouse Reader

The Riddler was particularly alarmed when an old coworker and friend's spouse reached out to him after a long time.

It's been a long time, I know I know 😭

"So... You're telling me you wanna bring 'im back to life?"

"Yes." You answered firmly.

"Well, honey, I'm not the man for the job."

Now Edward thinks that it's not in the realm of impossibility at all, when there's crazy shit everywhere in Gotham but why him? There's the Lazarus Pit, the fucking nutjobs with powers, why don't you go bother them?

"I believe you have abundance of abilities that would be of help to me and you're the most intelligent man I know."

Edward raises a brow with a lopsided grin. Ohohoho, now you were pulling the flattery card— those were always his favourite. He doesn't need them at all, he has a pillar of support holding the weight of his confidence, but it does not hurt to hear the others state the obvious.

The Riddler replies, coyly dragging his words. "I don't know about you, but there's Lex Luthor--"

"As if that man ever achieved anything. He just throws money and expects his inventions to come to fruition—" You're not wrong. But that's not quite what he wants to hear. "— But you, you actually make progress."

"Hmm... Right. Tell me everything." Edward leans his arm against the table.

And you have told him everything. He always knew there was something more about you that meets the eye-- I mean, you're fucking married to Jonathan Crane. How could the most generic, sane-looking person be with someone like him? As they say, you are what you love.

Y/N L/N-Crane, Gotham Uni graduate with a degree of Psychology. No discernable background relevant to Edward, other than being affiliated with Jonathan and in turn, associated with the rogues. Scarecrow had put out a note to his other coworkers not to harm you, lest they want to make their lives a living hell. Now that he's dead, his threat was no longer effective, but out of respect and not really having any problems with you, they still abide by it. It is not like they can still use you against Jonathan anyways, but Edward digresses.

"So you're saying that you want to become the next Mister Freeze and bring your dead husband back to life?"

You chuckled, seems like the first time you did after all these times but it never sounded natural in your ears. Funny that he say that, Mister Freeze had actually lent you his equipment suited to preserve Jonathan... Or at least, what's left of him.

Freeze empathizes with you losing the love of your life, he understood just how painful it is. By this, he pulled you in to cope the way he does, locking your spouse's corpse in a low temperature pod in hopes of finding a way to bring them back. It wasn't healthy, but it is only what you have. But you figured it did not had to be that way, to endlessly cry before an embodiment of your grief preserved in a pod for the rest of your days. No, you were determined to bring him back, just as Freeze was.

Meanwhile Edward is particularly stoked you reached out to him, stroke his ego and consult him about a project you would be making— of course you should consult him! He's the smart one, forget the professionals, clearly he is most superior! Oh resurrection? Oh he might just work on it as well. Count him in! Oh he hasn't worked on a new project for a long time, this would be good to dip himself in the water again.

"When do we begin?"

~•~

You are a bright chemist, as Edward had come to discover, no wonder you caught Jonathan's eye despite graduating with a psychology degree. You are no Edward Nygma, of course no one can be as briliant as Edward Nygma, but he has to qualms to point out certain aspects of you he considered impressive. He can admit that you know your stuff pretty well without bruising his ego.

You thought of everything. You ruled out the Lazarus Pit as an option to resurrect due to its unpredictable nature and not to mention, the madness that comes with it. In general, magic was out of the option because you would not fuck with the unfamiliar waters, no that is not your field at all, what use would your science background do other than hanging prettily on your wall? Of course you would make use of it.

Is it possible to bring one back to life? The life long question in which science and the supernatural has their very own answers to. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley had answered the question of what would happen if one were to play god and control life itself, but your do not want to play god nor create life, you just want your Jonathan back. Besides, it did not go well for Doctor Frankenstein but maybe it was the point of it all, to dare tap into the impossible, borderline unnatural, supernatural even, breaking ethics, ruining the natural flaw of vitality of everything. But perhaps it was Frankenstein's neglect, lack of self-awareness, responsibility and accountability that caused him his downfall. Oh, and he's a fucking dropout.

It was wild how you can compare fiction into your life in a manner that is not figurative. You are here planning to bring your Jonathan back to life on a Tuesday night in Gotham City in your basement after having tea with the Riddler. You were no architect and an engineer, and so Edward was called in to design some things from you, perhaps gain feedback from him. He knows his stuff despite not having a degree of it at all and you trust him... Funding was not a problem at all, you have a few materials kindly provided by Victor Fries. After he had passed and successfully healed Nora, he had you in his mind. The low temperature preservation pods, various chemicals, the lair, the freeze ray, the suit... Riddler was not far off when he said you might be the next Mister Freeze. Hopefully not for long.

"Right, so that's the design. Promotes a good flow of necessary fluids, the vital signifier, control panels, Jonny boy's fishtank..."

Looking over a blueprint, the design was doable for Edward to construct in a matter of days and enough for you to make important phone calls for willing participants to contribute a little helping hand for this little project of yours.

So how do you plan to bring him back to life? A mix of both. You meant it when you said you would never fuck with the supernatural, but you also recognise the limitation of science. His body is beyond saving but you will be stopping at nothing to bring him back. You planned to clone his body and give him his old memories. Obtaining his old memories and consciousness is something science cannot do and you turn to the last thing you dreaded to even think about.

Klarion the Witch Boy was out of the option, too unpredictable in your taste. Zatanna does not fuck with this particular side of magic and not to mention, how she would not even involve herself with the likes of you. John Constantine, too drunk to function, moreover, how he'd attempt to fuck every breathing thing... Doctor Psycho specialises in the human mind, but would he be capable of transferring memories and consciousness to another body? You want Jonathan fully healed in a different body as himself, not a clone with his memories. Would he be willing to help? Why would he help you? Would it possible for you to see your Jonathan ever again, or is it just a copy of him you are creating? Fucking hell, is he even capable of such a thing—

"Hey, hey," fingers snapping grounds your back. His hand is on your shoulder. Edward was a touch offended when you began dazing off, how dare you? Though he bit back the remark slots on his tongue by the sight of you flinching. "Stay with me okay?"

You blinked, grounding yourself back to the living realm. "Right..."

~•~

"So what was it like with Crane?"

"Pardon?"

In the midst of you tweaking some gears into the machine, Edward sounds off behind you, having been bored out of his mind after finishing his handiwork early. He found himself drumming the screw driver against a pipe, texting Clock King (he was unfortunately offline), when he laid his eyes on you. With no connection other than Jonathan, he gives it a go. Could be fun to reopen some wounds.

He repeats himself. "What was it like with Crane?"

"Mundane at best. I was the closest thing he has to normalcy since his workplace is catastrophic."

"How'd you met?"

"Uni."

"Why did he chose you?"

"Dunno."

"Why choose him?"

"I have questionable standards."

"You aren't much of a conversationalist, are you?"

"Yes."

Edward should be irked, but he isn't. He was that bored.

"Come on, work with me on something here. I don't like being bored," He sighs, draping himself on his seat, limbs sprawled out. "Monosyllabic much?"

"Occasionally. That was five syllables just about now." A lopsided grin was present at the last sentence, but you relent. "What was he like in the workplace?"

Ahhh, there it is. Edward could work with that.

"Maybe the most tolerable I find. He wasn't much of a bitch, but he can be a bit talkative."

"And you aren't?" You snorted, eyes still fixed on the contraption you were building.

"Touchè," Edward smirks. "The most that stood out to me the most though, was that one Villy's three or four years ago. Ya know, when you were outed in the public?"

You remembered. The ordeal was not easy for you, nor Jonathan. You've been together for a decade and married five years into it. You have been kept away from the public's eye and Jonathan was adamant to keep it that way. One day, someone spotted you. With a single picture, you were in the middle of the spotlight, front page, headlines. What was supposed to be a private matter, came to light when a single photo was snapped with the two of you holding hands, wedding bands visible. The Villy's were just around the corner and you were hot shit, you were nominated to be the best couple, despite your civilian status. Harley Quinn, who was Joker's then-girlfriend, did not take it well.

"The Villy's, you know how rigged it is right? And yet you won the best couple with no strings attached." Edward says. Back then he was amused at the fact that the couple who want nothing to do with the spotlight winning.

"Joker and Harley proceeded to make our lives a living hell. Nothing life-threatening, just general inconvenience..." You sighed, the memories resurfacing. Then you retract your statement. "No, I almost died on laughing gas. Couldn't breathe, was laughing too hard, broke a rib. Jon had to sedate me and make an antidote, then took me to the hospital for my broken rib."

"I remember. I overheard Jonny telling Bane about it." Edward noted how Jonathan was close to crying when he told Bane. He felt a little sorry for the guy, before going about his day. "Was Harley that did that?"

"I don't know." You shrugged.

"Has she apologized for it?" Harley has been going about her 'character arc' lately, with her break up with the Joker, her get together with Ivy and all that.

"No." There you were again, monosyllabic— a sign that the topic was getting a touch too personal.

"Do you still miss him?" It slips from Edward before he can even think about it. He was met by your deadpan gaze, before you gesture at the device you have been working on. The 'Bring my husband back' machine. Oh duh.

"So how are you and Clock King?" You opted to divert the conversation. At least then he'd be more elated to talk about that.

Edward grins, his expression shifting into something so dreamy. "He is so good to me. Just. The best. Just this morning I woke up to breakfast in bed, he is just a sweetheart. I just know I have to marry him."

"You guys should have won the Villy's," you dropped, whilst still tending to testing the mechanism of the device, before readjusting another set of screws.

"Right?" Edward exclaims. "If Harley and Ivy didn't show up up stage, that should have been a disqualification and the runner-up winner should have gotten it. But of course, Joker had to be a self-centred dick." He groans, rolling his eyes. "CK was upset but he got over it. The Villy's rigged anyway and we don't really need it."

"If I were a rogue though, I would have voted for you." You briefly looked up, seeing just how lit Edward's eyes were at the matter of his boyfriend.

"Why thank you," he limps a hand at your direction, before fishing for something in his pocket. With his phone in hand, he began pressing some keys before he holds it in front of you. "This was our third date. He baked us some sweets and we had tea. He is soooo good at cooking and baking ugh, I'd bring some if I can. You just got to try them."

You find yourself smiling at the sight of the happy couple posing in front of the camera, Edward's hand draped on Clock King's shoulder. Good for them.

The contraption was complete and functioning, though you can't find it within you to feel successful. Edward, on the other hand, was his usual self— taking pride of what he has constructed.

"Not bad for a psychologist slash chemist. I might make an engineer out of you yet." Edward gives you an impressed, lop-sided grin as he looks down on the mechanism you made.

You only give him a smile, void of any emotions whatsoever.

"Quick question," Edward knows it within himself nothing about his query is quick. "Do you think old Jonny boy would want to see you..." He vaguely gestures at your form, darkened gaze, bloodshot eyes, exhausted, lethargic, tired, every synonym of it just to drive a point. "Like this?"

Edward gets up, giving you a firm pat on your back, before picking up the apparatus. He proceeds to install it the main machine to get it to run. The 'Bring back my husband' machine whirs to life, the cogs and gears turning, pumps shifting. Edward takes a step back to admire his— er, your (plural)— your handiwork.

~•~

The day came, the apparatus was complete and in order. All that was needed to be done was to do something out of your control and put of your abilities. You settled on cloning the body— you've already made calls to Dr. Psycho for an appointment, transfer everything from John's old body to his new one and to ensure this would not be a case of a clone with Jon's memories, you had to reiterate that.

It was risky. You were unsure. There's no doubt that resurrection is not possible, everyone who had died around you had came back, though not all of them came back right. A seed of doubt was sewn in your mind, though pushed back.

The question did not come from a place of concern (or so he thinks), he just wanted to fuck with your mind. With all the uncertainty lingering in mind, there's bound to be an interesting reaction. He was met with yet again, your dead gaze. Somehow Jonathan in his little pod was looking livelier than you are.

"No."

There was an air of finality to it, wanting not to elaborate further as you step forward to tend to the machine. There was nothing wrong with it, you just wanted to avoid him and his prying. Edward getting under your skin had never gone unnoticed, but it was best to disregard him, lest it should egg him on to poke further. You were above snapping at him, not to mention, you don't even have the energy to take his jabs to heart.

Exhaustion glazed eyes glanced at the body in the tank. An imitation of your husband sloshed in it. This wasn't him, you knew, but you just wanted to have something in his absence.

You won't deny that he had successfully made that seed of doubt in your mind to flourish. It didn't take your psychology degree to think that everything you were doing was in the place of grief. Self-awareness and all that, yet you still proceeded to lend the effort of constructing a machine in hopes to bring him back. It's all in the grieving process.

'Goodbye, my darling.'

Edward found himself raising a brow in shock, when you unplugged the machine, shutting it down. All your efforts, down the drain. All his effort. And yet he didn't feel it was all for nought. He stares at you, waiting for you to say something.

"Jonathan wouldn't like this." All you can do was shrug, he chuckles at this.

"And here I thought you'd be replacing Mr. Freeze." Edward remarks with a smirk. But then, one question remains.

"So, what now?"

#dc x reader #dc jonathan crane #harley quinn 2019 scarecrow #harley quinn series scarecrow x reader #harley quinn series jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #edward nigma #the riddler

[pastrydragon]

What do the rogues smell like? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I know you probably asked this as a joke but I thought deeply about it anyway so here you go!

Riddler:

Lemon and lavender soaps.

Edward's dad was a hoarder and so Edward has a thing about his space being clean.

when he got his first apartment he kept it obsessively clean and as a side effect of this the place always smelled like the lemon and lavender cleaning products he'd scrubbed the place with.

And since this was the first place Edward ever felt safe, he ended up associating those scents with safety.

So all his soap and cleaning products to this day are either lemon or lavender scented, so he inevitably ends up with a near permanent air freshener like scent.

Scarecrow:

Pumpkin pie now but used to smell like chemicals.

Harley got him a basket of pumpkin spice everything as a gift for his birthday one year after he developed a toxin variation that was particularly pungent and he wasn't gonna waste perfectly good hygiene products!

And he has a genuine love for pumpkin taste so he keeps cans of it around to put in his pancakes every morning.

So yeah, The Master Of Halloween smells like thanksgiving.

You can still smell the chemicals if you get close though.

Mad hatter:

“Iris Poudre” by Frederic Malle, he doesn’t care that it’s a women’s perfume, he wants to smell like a sexy flower garden and everyone else can mind their own business.

Under the perfume he smells like whatever tea he drank that day and possibly like whatever sugary treat he baked to go with it.

Unless he's been in his lab all day, then he smells like metals and plastic.

And once in a blue moon when he needs to do some intense testing, cool ranch Doritos.

Except he never brings food down there with him so how....?

Mr. Freeze:

His condition causes him to have a permanent fresh snow smell which he was pleasantly surprised by.

Like the other scientists on this list carries a kind of "laboratory smell" with him.

His suit smells... weird. Like you can smell that a person was there but there's no sweat smell and its honestly a little off-putting. Luckily he cleans it very regularly.

He used to wear “Angel’s share” by Killian because Nora has good taste and wasn’t gonna let her husband smell like detergent and nothing else.

He'll start wearing it again when she wakes up.

Penguin:

“Tobacco Vanille” by Tom Ford mainly. The man wants to ooze class.

He also wears it because he always has a cigar after his lunch and dinner so he needs to wear something he knows won't clash scents with his Arturo's.

And if you're thinking that smell is strong, that's on purpose.

Oswald has a small group of birds in his atrium that he cares for personally out of affection, and because of that if you get right up close to him you’ll smell bird cage. Not great.

He might also smell like seafood after meals but not really in a bad way, more in a "Well fuck, now I'm craving Red Lobster!" way.

TwoFace:

“REPLICA jazz club” Because before he was Twoface he was a snazzy lawyer who wanted to smell like how big band music sounds.

There's also the medicine he puts on his acid burns which smells exactly how you’d expect it to.

The two mixing together isn't unpleasant but it is a bit confusing to get a whiff of if you don't know who it's coming from.

It smells kinda like an expensive hospital room.

He might also smell like Bloody Mary's if he's had a bad day.

Harley:

“Tutti Fruity Candy” by Bath and bodyworks

Unless she’s going to one of Oswald’s fancy parties, Then she wears “Into The Night”…. Also by bath and bodyworks.

She also smells a bit like bubblegum.

She smells like how a slumber party feels I think.

Just smells like fun!

Catwomen:

Has accumulated an impressive collection of expensive perfumes as gifts from various gentleman friends over the years and uses them almost at random so literally no one knows until she shows up.

She also smells a bit like cats.

Poison Ivy:

ROSES

Like a very aggressive rose smell.

Like you aren’t allowed to wear rose scented perfume in Gotham because it makes people try to evacuate the area.

Ivy could smell like any flower she wanted of course.

But who doesn't love roses?

Bane:

Harley strikes again and got him Dr. Squach products because he's Mr. manly man and she thought it was funny.

He shares John's "waste nothing" philosophy and used all of it, then bought more because he liked it.

His favorite scent is alpine sage but he changes it up sometimes.

He also smells like 24 hour fitness, because obviously.

He might also smell like peanut butter protein shakes.

Bookworm:

Musty dusty book smell.

He smells like a socially awkward moth eaten carpet.

He smells like an old arm chair with a cat sitting in it.

He smells like cocoa butter because he is an ashy bitch who needs to be moisturized.

Please buy him some cologne.

Killer Croc:

Waylon's home may be in the sewer but his home also happens to be beachfront property, so he smells like ocean mainly.

With all his free time between heists and such, Waylon often takes on elaborate cooking projects with a focus on BBQ and smoking meat. Which means he smells like a plethora of kitchen spices, smoke and herbs.

Maybe it's the alligator skin, maybe it's the jackets he wears, but he always smells a little like leather.

So the entire effect is "Bar and grill by the ocean with those really nice leather booths"

Please make him into a cologne.

Music Meister:

He avoids scented products to avoid irritating his respiratory system in any way.

So He just smells like a clean human.

Possibly lemon and honey from trying to soothe those vocal cords with weak tea.

Joker:

Is also a basic bath and bodyworks bitch, he wears “Among The Clouds”. 

He does class it to the roof for formal events though and switches to "English Promenade 19" By Krigler.

If you catch him without any scent on he smells slightly acidic and some other rogues would describe him as smelling "sickly". He's not physically sick as his doctors can attest, in fact his chemical bath raised the PH across his body so he can't even get most diseases anymore.

Because of this he can tend to overdue it on the scent to hide the sickly and chemical smells.

Like Jervis, Joker often smells like his baking projects. (Except the project is almost exclusively some sort of pie.)

#pastry writes #headcanon #batman villains #batman #gotham rogues #batman rogues #edward nygma #riddler #scarecrow #Johnathan crane #jervis tetch #mad hatter #mr freeze #victor fries #nora fries #penguin #oswald cobblepot #twoface #harvey dent #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #catwomen #selina kyle #poison ivy #pamela isley #bane #bookworm #Killer croc #waylon jones #music meister

[blacknidstang]

Sometimes i'm just rewatching early early days and I'm like holy shit what the fuck was wrong with them. Got tempted to rewatch Scarecrow?? Their dramatic lil breakup that felt like both of them were expectingbthe other to chase after them??? Dean's "i can cope without you"??, Sam's smile when Dean says he doesn't have his geeky sidekick??? I can't take it anymore. DEAN STUTTERING WHEN HE WANTS TO TELL SAM THAT HE CAN GO ON HIS OWN??? SAM'S "I'M SORRY TOO??" "SAY YOU'LL TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF"????

and the fact that after this, after this moment of Sam knowing Dean loves him anyway and is ready to let go, Sam is dazed when the call ends?? Like he frames Dean saying goodbye as if they will never meet again when they are just supposed to be temporarily separating paths so Sam could find dad. SAM ACTS LIKE HIS HUSBAND HAS SENT LETTER BIDDING HIM FAREWELL AS HE GOES TO WAR.

And then just,

After all this talk Sam's ready to drop everything he was so determined to do to run back to Dean?? Bc nothing ever matters more than that?? Do you even comprehend their level of love and need?

#even the johndean moment with dean literally GULPING when he hears dad's voice??? #i feel sick watching this episode #it was only s1 and these two were acting like most dramatic smithen yearning dysfunctional romantic pair #wincest #sam&dean #spn

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

When the militia sees darling guiding the medic to Jason or notices her being affectionate when he’s in his armor they’re internally crying and screaming like “this is so unfair how’d the knight pull and I can’t? 😩😩😩”

Coping and sneeding over the fact that their boss who is unstable and kidnapp-y pulled a cute civ like Darling while they've had nothing but their hand for the past year in Venezula for their training

Tho there's at least one militia member who is canonically married to another dude that doesn't know about him being in Gotham on this assignment, so I think that specific dude would be like "Man...she reminds me of my husband...I should give him a call or shoot a text when I get the chance to let him know I miss him and love him"

I can also def see a very motherly and sweet Darling somehow getting these mercs to talk about their personal lives a little because she's just so sweet and disarming. So she and the Married Militiaman are chill with each other in a "your boss is my boyfriend/my boss is your boyfriend" relationship. Jason allows it since he knows Darling won't try to escape, and the militia are more inclined to protect her if they care about her and she isn't just The Boss's Girl. Plus he and the militia do seem to care about each other to an extent, with how many of them stayed loyal to him even after he ran out on Scarecrow. Like if you use the voice synthesizer to imitate the Knight's voice after the Jason fight, the militia will go "It's the boss! I knew he wouldn't abandon us"

And then you can lure them to traps. Lol get kaboomed by your ammo box idiot

#.dc #.arkhamverse #.arkham knight #.jason todd #yandere dc #yandere arkhamverse #yandere arkham knight #yandere jason todd #thots #.myshit #fem darling

[kkskdeaddove]

KakaSaku Dead Dove Week Wrap-Up!

We had 16 stunning and deliciously dark written submissions for the inaugural KakaSaku Dead Dove week and 2 breathtaking, mind-altering art submissions.

Please read the tags before checking out the full works. If something is going to make you uncomfortable, don't read it. You are responsible for curating your own fanfiction experience!

Thank you to everyone who participated, encouraged, commented, read, kudosed, and cheered on our amazing creators! Looking forward to future kksk dd events 🖤

Without further ado, here is the wrap-up!

appreciation by Anonymous 

The one where the Land of Waves arc goes badly, but Momochi Zabuza's soft-spot for child-tools doesn't stop him from doing what has to be done.

The Hatake Heir by BelleDayNight

As the sole heir of the Hatake clan, Kakashi has known since he was five years old that he would marry the daughter of the Harunos. Sakura on the other hand is blissfully unaware that the man that will one day be her sensei is in fact her betrothed. There's a reason no man asks Sakura out on a date-- her husband has been quietly scaring them off for years...

Not a Love Like Mine, a Ruin by stargliders

Their captor hummed in contemplation. "This is my show, and whatever I say goes. I think I’ll start by shutting that smart mouth of yours for good." Kakashi closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "Take me instead." "But you…you can’t," Sakura said. The words she desperately wanted to tell him refused to come out. (I love you. Please, don’t die.)

take me down (won't you take me down) by xylazine

In a moment of reckless bravery, Sakura volunteers to be taken by none other than the demon of Konoha. Little does she realize how much she's in for.

Please, Please, Please (Let Me Get What I Want) by twofortea

Kakashi-sensei looked so different when he was sleeping.

Consequences by gremlint

Kakashi fucked around, and now he's going to find out. Or: the consequences of neglecting a brat's aftercare.

Hold On Tight by Typhlobasia

Konoha’s Official Exam for Head Interrogators, part two: required practical section, Combined Test of Shinobi Mental Perseverance. This is something Sakura knows she wants to pass for her team; she can persevere, can earn her title, do her part protecting the village, make Lady Tsunade proud for all the efforts she invested into her student over the years… But, seeing her moon-lit reflection in the hitai-ate on Kakashi’s forehead, her friend and former sensei towering over her as she is strapped into the interrogation chair, Sakura’s old fears slither their way back in. “So, Sakura…” Her eyes snap to his, hopeful. Pleading. Kakashi takes a small step forward on the stone floor, the sound of it sharp and echoing in the dim room, “shall we begin?”

Wolf in Scarecrow's Clothing by Fusionblitz28

In which Yamanaka Ino doesn't protect Sakura from bullies and becomes her first friend. Nor does Sakura obsessively crush over Uchiha Sasuke. Rather, her ANBU in shining armor and crush are one in the same person. Eventually the polish fades to reveal something rather unlike its original condition. Maybe it's always been that way and Sakura was too naive to see it sooner. OR; Sakura falls in love at five years old. With none other than one Hatake Kakashi. Kakashi exploits that.

La Petite Mort by rosebrided

“I love you, Sakura,” he whispers like she can hear him even now, the words coming out in a wisp of a breath. And then he adds, “Forgive me.” - In which Sakura is gone from this life, and Kakashi struggles to cope after discovering her body.

That Shattered Soul by twofortea

The bright green of her eyes had dulled, her expression made vacant. She was like a broken doll, a preview of what Sasori planned to turn her into.

cat nap by xylazine 

Curled around his pink kitten, Kakashi the cat slips into a rather person like dream.

breathe me by twofortea 

Every time the nightmares started up again, he found someone new to bury himself in. He lost himself in another person, another nameless face, another warm body—buried the nightmares in warmth, life, lust.

On The Brink by gremlint

Kakashi and Sakura have the unfortunate luck to be captured by some rather imaginative enemies. What they experience will change their relationship forever.

Dancing With a Ghost by stargliders

There was nothing else they could do. The talk therapy had failed. So had both rounds of electroshock. (The lightning Kakashi wielded all these years—had it made him immune? Even as Sakura watched his toes and fingers rattle against the table?) But a doctor in Kirigakure, Shizune explained, had recently invented a procedure that settled the overactive zones in the frontal lobes of the brain. Maybe, just maybe, he could be happy again.

Living-Dead by Komorebi_3

Obito Uchiha decides to send a clone to the 5 Kage summit and observe Naruto and Kakashi in the shadows after revealing information about Itachi and Sasuke. He finds himself a bit bored with the turn of events until a certain pink-haired Kunoichi strolls in confessing her love to Naruto. Everything about her reminds him of Rin and his already fragile state of mind just spirals out of control from there. Or, Obito becomes partially delusional and kidnaps Sakura for his own sick pleasure, but of course Kakashi Hatake can't let that happen so he volunteers to be taken instead.

No Good Deed by Heartensoul

Kakashi had given Sasuke so many chances to make it right—to do right by Sakura. Now, he was going to take matters into his own hands.

compulsion by xylazine

Kakashi has driven her mad with need for years until Sakura finally snaps and takes matters into her own hands.

Clone bang art by @spnfox

Captured by enemies art by @spnfox

Thank you all again! See you next time 😈😈😈

#kakasaku #kakasaku dead dove #kkskdd2024 #dead dove #dark fics #naruto events #naruto #masterlist #event wrap up

[earthbound-girl]

Romp in The Barn (Stardew Valley Fic)

(NO MINORS!) Cute Fluff and a look into Domestic life with Sam plus a tame smut scene.

“What?” Sam asked looking quizzically at Sebastian.

“Yeah, did you not realize they did that?” He said as he laughed at his friend's expression.

Sam couldn’t believe that he never realized it. When you and him had kids, he left the naming up to you, It was the least he could do since you took his last name when you got married and He leaves the care of Starry Farms up to you. He giggled to himself. He just couldn’t believe that the person he married was this cute and nerdy.

“Well thank you for the info, Seb. But now I need to get back to my kids.” And also ask my cute spouse about their names. He thought.

“Alright then. See ya. Thanks for the laugh!” Seb said over his shoulder as walked back to his house.

Sam started his way down the path to yall’s. He couldn’t wait to get back to his kids and you.

A Few Hours Later

You get back to your home, after a few long hours of feeding your animals and taking care of crops. The worst part of farm life was the long list of never-ending chores. But it was better than working at a soul-crushing office job. You sit down on your couch and sigh in relief. You couldn’t stay for long, you still had to go to town and see if the townspeople needed any help, along with picking up more seeds from Pierre’s and then going to Willy’s shop to replace your fishing rod. At least you had your horse, Milly now, which made traveling so far easier and faster.

“Ama!” You snap out of your thoughts and look towards your firstborn child. They looked so much like you but had the personality of their daddy. You smiled at them.

“Yes, Sweetie?” you asked.

They came running to you and scrambled into your lap.

“Look at what I made!” they exclaimed as they showed you their latest crayon drawing.

In the drawing was a family, your family. Sam with his spikey hair drawn in yellow, you with your signature hat holding your newly added baby, and then them in the middle with a huge heart surrounding all of you.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful sweetie!”

“Tank you ama I made a new one, so baby Nicolas could be in it”

“Aww, I’m glad you wanted to include your sibling, baby” You kiss the top of their head. “Have you shown your daddy yet?”

“No, not yet, dadda is busy with baby.” They say as they keep gazing at the drawing.”

You set them down and get up off the couch. The break was over, now it's parent duty.

“Well let us go find him and show him.” They look up at you and smile super big before taking your hand and heading to their shared bedroom with their little sibling. You head inside to see Sam cradling your baby in his arms. He has taken to his father role so well. He is such a doting dad and loves his children so much. He sees you come in and he sets the child back into their crib so they can nap.

“Hi dear.” He walks to you and pecks your lips quickly.

“Did you get everything done on the farm today? If you didn’t, I won't be mad!” he teases you.

You roll your eyes at your husband and smile up at him.

“No not yet, I just came in for a break. Then Rosie wanted me to show what they drew.” You give him the drawing and his eyes light up as he looks at it.

“This is so good! Great Job Rosie! This is going on the fridge!” Your child smiles at their dad and starts jumping up and down yelling “YAY!”

“Oh Oh, sweetie, shh, your little brother is trying to sleep okay.” You put your fingers to your lips.

“Oops, sorry momma. Yay.” The say in a tiny whisper before running downstairs to put their drawing on the fridge.

You and Sam giggle softly as you watch them run out the room. You hug Sam and put your head on his chest. He kisses your head.

“Long Morning?”

“You have no idea. The cows had another baby, and I ran out of hay for the chickens, so they were not too happy with me. So, no eggs today. Then I forgot to set out a scarecrow and the birds came and ate up some of the seeds I just planted.” You vented.

“I’m sorry dear. If I knew more about farm work, I’d help you out more.”

“I know Love. But you take care of the housework and our kids. Plus I didn’t marry you cause you know about farming.”

“I know, you married me cause of my rugged good looks and rockstar status!” He jokes at you. He loves when you smile and laugh at him.

“Damn right, Love.” You laugh at him.

He leans down and kisses your smiling lips. His kisses always made you feel better. They made the day's woes melt away. You were so lucky that he said yes when you asked him to marry you, though if you asked Sam, he would say he was the lucky one.

Your lips part and he puts his head against yours. “Do you feel a little better?”

“I do. Thank you, Sam.”

“Anything for you dear.” He smiles at you.

“Oh by the way, I went for a walk before the kids got up and I saw Seb… and he said something I need to ask you about.”

“Oh what’s that?” you asked.

“Seb told me that you named our kids after your favorite fictional characters. Is that true?’

You part from Sam and look down before you start to giggle and that turns into a quiet laugh, so you didn’t wake your sleeping baby.

“You didn’t realize that Sam?” You laugh out.

“Well, I knew that they were unique names. I just thought that it was a distant family member's name.”

You grab Sam’s hand and head down the back stairs to ya’ll’s bedroom. As soon as you are out of the baby’s room and have the door close so you can’t wake them up. You lose it and let out a very loud laugh. You laugh until you have tears in your eyes and looking at Sam’s puzzled expression made it worse. You turn your back to him and calm down, as much as you can before turning back.

“Sam. I love you so much.”

This made his expression even more confused and you almost start laughing again. “I love you too?”

“I mean it Sam; I love you so much. I love that you can make me laugh this much… and also that you just don’t question my weird ways.” You hug him and hold him tight. Even though he was still confused, he couldn’t help but hug you back and hold you just as tight.

“Though Sam, I can’t believe that you didn’t realize that I named them after certain characters. I even told you I was.”

He holds you out a bit. “When? I don’t remember this.”

“I think a few weeks before I had our First and a few days before our Second. Though I will admit that we were busy with something else.” You blushed.

“Oh, no wonder I don’t remember. You were distracting me with your wild ways.” He says as he wiggles his eyebrows.

You rolls your eyes. “Well now that you realize, are you upset?”

“Of course not, I trust you. I love how nerdy and cute you are, and this just made me love you even more if that’s possible. I could never be mad at you for being you. Though, I should ask are you mad at me for not remembering.”

“No, never. I can never be mad at you Sam. But. I think you need to be punished for not seeing my true nerdiness.”

“Oh no. Not punished and what pray tell would my spouse propose as a punishment?”

“Well for one, You have to watch my favorite (Y/F Show/Movie)” You state

“Dear, that is not a punishment, especially when we watch almost the same things.”

“I wasn’t finished. We watch my favorite (Y/F Show/Movie) while I..” You pull him close and whisper in his ear. “cockwarm you.”

You hear him giggle darkly and he pulls his face back to look at you.

“And… that’s it? Dear. I can handle a little cockwarming but I know that you won’t. You can’t sit still long enough. Are you sure this isn’t a punishment for you then for me?”

“I can too. I’ve been practicing. And this is a perfect opportunity to see if that practice paid off.”

“And when have you been practicing?” He asked you. You look at him and see his eyes are dark. You love seeing him get like this. Sam is usually a gently lover and wants to make you feel good. But sometimes, like moments like these, his eyes will get dark and he will get a bit dominant.

“Whenever you and the kids go visit your mom.” You admit finally. His gaze holds you and you can feel your underwear getting wet.

“Mhmm. So sneaky. And when was I going to know about this?” He mused.

“The next time the kids spent the night at your mom’s.” you whispered. Your skin felt hot, and you started to breathe a bit heavy. You wanted to whine. You wanted your husband right here and now. But you reeled yourself back, remembering that you had one child in the living room and one asleep upstairs. Sometimes being a parent sucked.

“You know mom has been wanting to see the kids. Why don’t I drop them off tonight and we can see if your secret practice helped?”

Fuck. Fuck. So hot. Need him now. Want him now. Wasn’t this supposed to be his punishment? Why am I the one over here getting so needy!?

“O-Okay.” That’s you can say.

“Seem’s like I’m not the one being punished now. “ He lowers his face down and gives your neck hot quick kisses. You can feel yourself getting lost in Sam’s touch, you wanted Sam. He feels the same. You want nothing more then to stay in this hot love haze.

But this gets interrupted by your child, who starts to yell for you and your husband.

“Ama! Dadda! I’m hungry. Can I have cereal?”

You both freeze and stay still. He pulls back and sighs. “Looks like we are being called.”

“Yeah. But at least we will have tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me either”

You both part and you look in the mirror to make sure you don’t have hickies and Sam has to readjust himself before he goes out to take care of your child.

You hear your husband and child laughing and the sound of cereal being poured. You try to distract yourself, trying to stop your heart beating so fast, your skin to stop feeling so hot. Once you get like this, its hard to stop. You either have to take care of it yourself or… or… You start to come up with a plan.

A couple of minutes later, you exit your bedroom and see your child sitting in the living room with a bowl of cereal watching tv. Normally you would just gaze and smile at you how cute this scene is, but right now you need Sam.

“Hey Sam. I forgot I need some help in the barn. Can you come and help really quick?’

He puts his cup down and says “Sure.” Then he looks at your child. “Sweetie, are you okay? Cause I need to go help mommy in the barn.”

They barely look away from the screen before saying “Okay dadda.”

You and Sam head outside to the barn. Your heart is pounding and you need him. You need Sam to help you.

“Dear, What is it that you needed help with?” He asked after going inside the barn.

You shut the barn’s roll up door. Before walking back to Sam and reaching up to bring his face to yours and kiss him hungrily. You have to stop so you can take a breather. Sam is breathing just as hard and looks at you with those blue eyes you love so much.

“I need you Sammy. I couldn’t wait till tonight. So please. Please fuck me.”

“In here?”

“It was either here or the Coop and here there is a lot of soft hay and less eggs.”

Sam giggles.

“You are just too cute and when you are this needy, so fucking hot.” His backs you up against a wall and starts to kiss you hard. You moan in his mouth and his tongue plays with yours. He leaves you breathless and he pulls back.

“Fuck angel, you are just so sexy.” You goes straight for your neck and starts to leave a trail of hickies. After he examines his work, he pulls off your shirt and starts to kiss and suck your nips. Leaving them swollen and sensitive. He kiss down your body and stops at your bottoms. He slides it off you and sees how wet you you are for him.

“So wet. You are such my needy spouse.” He licks and kisses the wet spot, eliciting a moan and a whine from you,

“S-sam p-please. No teasing!” you stutter a plea.

“I can’t help it dear. Seeing you like this, makes me just want to devour you slowly.” He kisses the wet spot one more time before sliding off your underwear. Even though he has seen you so many times like this. He is still amazed by you. He loves you so much and he is going to show you what you do to him. He hurriedly loses his pants and underwear. He turns you around and pumps himself a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He uses your wetness as lube and smears his cock before slowly entering you.

“Ahh, Fuck! Sam! Sam!” You hold onto the wall as best as you can. Its so good. So good. Everything is hazy and all you can feel is Sam. All you need is Sam.

“Hah, Fuck. Angel You always feel so good. Feel so amazing.” He bottoms out inside you. He holds for a few seconds, before he backs out and thrust it back deep inside you.

“HA! SAM!” That thrust made your knees buckle and almost drop.

He does it again and again. Holding you tight so you won’t fall. Until he finds his rhythm and is thrusting in and out hard.

"Baby! Baby! God you feel so good!” You hear him moan out. The sound of his thrusts echoes around the empty barn. You are so glad that you live deep in the woods.

You both are reaching your climaxes. A couple of more thrusts. Your hole pulsing with every thrust.

“Cum! Gonna Cum!” You moan out.

“Fuck yes! Cum! Cum for me angel! Cum for your husband! Not! Far! Behind!” He thrusts to punctate his sentences.

You feel it. You can feel it building. It starts in your stomach and goes straight to your head. “AHH, SAM!!”

You tip over the edge and your hole tightens around Sam’s cock, taking him with you.

Angel!” He releases deep inside you. All his love is now inside you.

Sam collapses against you. Holding you as you both ride out your orgasms. All that can be heard is the sound of your heavy breathing. Sam’s head rests on your shoulder and he roll your head to him and lay your head on his.

“I love you Sam.” You whisper in his ear.

“I love you too, Sweetie. So much.” He kisses your shoulder. He slowly pulls out.

You always feel so empty when he pulls out. Especially after such hard loving sex like this. Sam turns you around and kisses your forehead, your temples, and finally your lips. He hugs you tight.

“You are the love of my life. I’m so happy we are married. I’m so happy I have you. Then you made me even more happy when you gave us our kids. I seriously love you.”

You tear up and hold him tight. He kisses you one last time and gets dressed quickly before your child comes out to see you in such a state. Sam steps out and you hear. “Oh hey Seb.”

You freeze in place before quickly throwing on your clothes and check to see if Sam was just joking. God you hope Sam is joking. He is not. Standing on the other side of the barn is a stunned blushing Sebastian and in his hands is a hoe. Your hoe specifically. One that you were going to go pick up from Robin today.

Well, shit.

#stardew valley #stardew valley smut #stardew bachelors #stardew valley sam #sam sdv #sam stardew valley #sdv farmer #sam x reader #sam x farmer #earthboundwriter

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Batman interrogating Jonathan Crane’s wife: “He’s insane, why are you with him?? You know all that he did??”

Jonathan’s wife: “He’s my type. Also he looked good doing it!”

Batman: “Your type is insane and unhinged?”

Jonathan’s wife: “Yes”

A/N: loved this sm I had to make a small lil blurb

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

You were tied up, struggling against your restraints and the chair you were tied up to.

“Where is he?” He said as soon as he opened up the door, saying it calmly and quietly.

“Don’t know who your talking about. Untie me!”

“Where is Jonathan? I know you know where he is.” He said firmly, louder this time.

He stood up, staring you down like prey.

“Me and him got into an argument. I don’t know.” You lied.

“You’re lying. He got caught and fled, so where, where is he?”

“I don’t-“

“He’s insane!” He slammed his hands down on the table, his patience growing thin. “You knew about it, you knew about what he did.”

You shrugged.

“What can I say? I have a type.”

“Your type is crazy and murderous?”

You stayed silent for a moment, which gave him his answers.

He sighed deeply “I will find him. And when I do, you’re going with him.”

“Good luck with that. He won’t let you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. He didn’t have a good feeling about this.

You looked behind him with a smirk, as your husband, in the scarecrow mask snuck up behind him.

Batman turned around as soon as he realized, and was quickly sprayed with the fear gas. He gasped and Jonathan ignored the man, and made his way to you, untying you and grabbing your hand.

“You alright..?”

“Never been better.” You said, giving him a kiss and you both fled the scene.

#cillian murphy jonathan crane #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane the dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane batman begins

[madnessreruns]

May I please ask for BTAS Scarecrow with a (gender neutral) reader who sees him as the most wonderful being alive, practically worships him, praises him countlessly, practically sees him as a person as art and is very physically affectionate? I hope I explained that well

Physical Art

Btas Jonathan Crane x Reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

So, let’s get started by saying poor baby is confused. He has never been given affection in his life so the first time you tell him all this he’s just.. ???? Confusion. He is very flustered as you shower in him affection and love.

He freezes when you do this the first time, he looks at you bewildered, his face flushing red as you kiss his shoulder gently.

Maybe he flinched away, or maybe he just sinks into your touch. He definitely likes it it just takes him off guard. He looks back at you, before un-tensing his shoulder and letting you continue kissing down his shoulder and arm.

Don’t bite him though he’ll yelp and swat at you like an angry cat at a flimsy fly.

Also do NOT do it in public. THE scarecrow can’t be caught all red and blushing because his partner kissed him. Or maybe he does… maybe he wants others to know that he has a better partner then they do..

Hmmmm…

Anyways he’s not very good a reciprocating this affection, maybe a kiss on the cheek or a hug, but not nearly as much as you do it.

His favorite physical affection is kissing you on your hands. It makes him feel like such a gentleman. Like he’s a prince and your his royal marriage partner. Wife, husband.. whatever you wanna call yourself

He definitely does that in public though. Kissing your knuckles, or maybe just your palms and the back of your hands.

When you call him a work of art i tell you this man how bright RED and might hide his face in his trembling hands.

Don’t tell anyone about this. Please.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

#cas.txt #ask #anonymous #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow #btas #btas x reader #btas jonathan crane x reader #btas jonathan crane

[madlittlecriminal]

Ok so I have a request for Jonathan crane and it's a bit of a long one so bare with me lmao

After Jon is exposed as the scarecrow, all eyes fall on him and, even more so, his wife, the reader. She cries and talks about how *terrified* she always of him, how he was so cruel, so manipulative, she couldn't possibly have left him! He had connections to the underworld, and of course his fear toxin, she felt like her life was hanging by a thread! And of course the media *love* it, lap it up like they had been stranded in the desert and finally found water. Everyone asks for an interview, wanting to do an expose, or even a book, to try and figure out jon, but the reader refuses, she's finally free (her divorce from Jon was sped up because, well, of course it was) and doesn't want to be reminded of him any more.

And then she gets home. She puts her wedding ring back on, and picks up where jon left off. After all, it'll take a while until he's able to escape arkham, and he'll want to hit the ground running. And she's nothing if not devoted to and in love with her husband, every bit as dark and twisted as the love of her life.

Bonus! In some versions, Jon was a professor before turning to crime/working at arkham, so maybe she was one of his students, helping to further the narrative that she was manipulated by Jon, just another helpless victim

Hfgfxvdgghhigi I know I know it's a lot the idea just keeps tickling at my brain, anywho, I hope you have a nice day!

as interesting as this is, in my opinion, manipulation falls under abuse and i don't write abuse. im sorry.

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #dc universe #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #scarecrow x y/n #scarecrow x you #asks #ask