#the scarecrow sleeve continues

[scleracentipede]

Y’all look at my awesome new fear state scarecrow tattoo Ft salecrow tattoo both by the wonderful CurlyH0rns @ Ghostship Tattoo Liverpool UK

#the scarecrow sleeve continues #these photos do not do him justice the level of detail is incredible #if ur in the uk seriously go get tattooed by CurlyH0rns she’s sooooo talented and very nice #we’re going to be filling the background in with fear toxin clouds and spooky stuff #CurlyH0rns #scarecrow #tattoo #scarecrow tattoo #fear state scarecrow #salecrow #others art

[where-dreamers-go]

“Blanket” Jonathan Crane x Fem! Reader

(A/N: Another older insert reader from about two years ago that I finally got around to finishing. Here’s one where Jonathan and Reader were both celebrating that neither of them had crossed paths with Batman for a whole week. Then things kind of heat up from there. Jonathan still needs the reassurance that Reader is being true in their relationship because he’s not used to that. This is kinda related to my previous Jonathan Crane fanfics discussing Batman’s opinion on their relationship. Minors Do Not Interact with this. Warnings: Minor angst, romance, first time together, lovemaking, hand job (both), unprotected sex, and mentions of Jonathan having past heartbreak. Word Count: 2,124 words)

~~~

A celebration was in order. A disguised excuse to be together and leaving adult responsibilities for another day.

Neither you nor Jonathan had crossed paths with the Batman for over a full work week. No captured Crane and you weren’t wrangled into another lecture about being too close to Scarecrow.

Honestly, it was a relief.

Over at your apartment, Jonathan had prepared dinner. A little something warm, hot, and homey. You had insisted cooking was his secret skill. The meal and time together was lovely. Something you cherished.

Cleaning the dishes could had been worse, but at least the plate didn’t break when it slipped from your grasp.

You were lucky. Yet it was a firm reminder to Jonathan and yourself that you were capable of being distracted.

Drying your hands, you could see Jonathan pushing his sleeves just that much further up to expose his forearms.

Could it be the glimpse of skin when he was otherwise all covered up?

Was it the lean muscle that lead to Jonathan’s dexterous hands?

Maybe you simply missed holding his hand after a long week?

Probably all of the above. And then some. You did adore the man for all that he was and would be.

The towel stilled in your hands as Jonathan’s arms encircled your waist.

“Do you have any after-dinner plans?” Asked Jonathan, his breath tickling your ear.

“I was thinking we could watch a movie,” you said and hung the kitchen towel up to dry. “Maybe share that really soft blanket I got a few weeks ago.”

“Sounds very domestic.”

“And I’m hoping to keep it that way. You know.” You gestured towards the windows on the other side of the living room. Ones that had been covered with curtains all evening.

“He couldn’t be that irritating.” Jonathan tightened his hold around you.

“It’s been a week…”

The two of you grew silent. Lost in thoughts of the Batman dropping by to lure you away from Doctor Crane. Again.

So much for getting handsy in the kitchen.

Sighing, your shoulders lowered. “I just wanted a little celebration with a sprinkle of romance. No fear of nocturnal creatures.”

Jonathan’s lips met your ear. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

You tilted your head. “More annoyed, I think.”

Humming, he pressed a firm kiss to your exposed neck.

“More annoying still that we’re talking about him when I finally have you all to myself. A great feat these days.” You smiled contently as Jonathan continued giving slow, strategically placed kisses. “And…we could just shut off all the lights,” you suggested.

“Skip the movie.”

“Get under the blanket.”

“Share body heat.”

“And a few other things?” You folded your arms over Jonathan’s, hopeful.

His lips curved upward against your skin. Lean hips pressed closer to you from behind.

“I’ll get the lights,” he whispered.

“Meet you on the couch.”

You turned your head and gave Jonathan a long, generous kiss. One you two would surely continue.

Jonathan slipped out of your grasp and gave you a head start. Stilling his hand by the light-switch, he was patient.

You were quick to cross the floor. Unfolding the new blanket in a rush, you laid it across the couch cushions.

In the second it took you to glance over to your partner, the apartment went dark. Save for the candles on the dining table that flickered, forgotten as you sat on the couch.

“Hmm, this blanket is really soft,” you murmured.

“Debatable.”

His foot bumped yours on the floor.

“With what?” You reached up and gently tugged him on the couch beside you.

In turn, he grabbed ahold of your thighs and pulled you fully on the couch, legs draped over his lap.

“With what’s underneath,” he said and gave your thighs a squeeze.

“Sweet and suggestive words.”

“You suggested we share other things.” He inched his fingers further up your thigh.

Humming quietly, you took your time as you unbuttoned his dress shirt. Working your way up, you listened to the sound of his breathing subtly changing. Fingers skimming over his heartbeat. Strong and more noticeable in the position you two were in. Then, having found his neck in the dark, you leaned in to kiss his throat.

Jonathan sucked in a breath.

Sliding your fingers along his skin, you pushed his shirt passed his shoulders, soon discarding it over the back of the couch. You took your time caressing his shoulders and arms. Kissing your way down his slender neck.

His fingers dug into your nice clothes. A soft moan left him as your hands explored his chest.

“I’ve missed you.” You murmured. “All of you. Your mind, your eyes, your voice, your touch…” You kissed his lips slowly and whispered, “Undress me.”

Jonathan pulled at fabric feebly, too busy kissing you again.

Finding his hands, you guided Jonathan as he removed your clothes piece by piece. Slender fingers glided over your skin and eliciting small gasps from yourself as he touched with cold fingertips. Chills ran across your skin.

“Is this alright?” Jonathan asked softly and a little hesitant, hands stilled at your waist.

“I’m with you. Of course this is all right.”

Chuckling, he gave you a quick kiss. Then one more as you took his hands in yours once again.

The pair of you removed the rest of your undergarments before you straddled his lap. Jonathan’s hands rested along your upper back as he gazed upon you in the candlelight.

“Your body is as lovely as your mind.”

Pulling yourself in closer, you thanked your partner with a deep kiss. You felt his exhale as he held you to him. Chests warming between two quick heartbeats.

“I finally get you all to myself,” you whispered against his lips, running your fingers through his hair. “Just us.” You kissed a path down his skin.

“Yes,” he breathed out, “If anyone ruins this, I’ll give them three doses of fe—.”

His words were cut off as your teeth grazed his neck.

You pressed a kiss to his skin; likely reddening. “Good, but I think we’ll be,” you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, “just fine.”

“Agreed.” He swallowed.

Lifting up his hips and fussing around with more articles of clothes, soon Jonathan was as bare as you. Vulnerable and flustered with how close you two had become.

“You okay?” You asked, palm against his burning cheek.

“Sitting with anticipation.”

“You and me both.”

Jonathan placed a hand over yours on his cheek and smiled.

Held together by languid kisses and roaming hands, the pair of you took your time. No rush to get anywhere later nor hide. Lovers memorizing the slight curves of the other. Discovering beautiful imperfections and how it felt to give passionate affections.

You knew Jonathan had held so many doubts before either of you had seen the other’s apartment. To be wrapped around the other, bare and on your couch, was an enormous step towards ensuring each other’s deep adoration.

“Let me take care of you a bit, yeah?” You delicately pushed up his glasses before slowly dragging that hand down his body.

Jonathan shivered under your touch. Yet not as much as when your hand grasped around his member.

You smirked, moving your hand up and down repetitively. Gently, of course, for your dear Jonathan.

He relaxed onto the couch. Soft moans leaving his lips every so often.

There was no need to hurry. Everyday came and went with many tasks. The time alone together in your apartment did not require any of that.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” you confessed, feeling quite content with yourself.

To see your Jonathan comfortable and sighing in pleasure may have also given you a confidence boost. You were doing this with him. He deserved some time to unwind. To have his mind on something he never had before, not without lies at least.

You would never dare to consider the thought of hurting him. Seeing him burdened with his past was enough to claw at your own heart. You never wished to be the cause of it. Jonathan held a special place in your heart and always would.

Leaving the hold he had on your hips, one of Jonathan’s hands started exploring the wetness between your legs.

“Oh.” He breathed out.

You closed your eyes. Loosing yourself in his touch.

Jonathan Crane was indeed an intelligent man. Inventive as he was caring, in your experience with him.

So why did it surprise you that he was giving as much as you were?

Perhaps subconsciously you imagined leading him by the hand with encouraging words as you shared body heat in the most unrestrained form of connection. Perhaps you thought he’d be too nervous. Perhaps, in your anticipation, you forgot how Jonathan had grown to initiate affection with you, his partner.

Could you be that silly or were you in love?

What was the difference?

Kissing his chin, you removed your hands from Jonathan.

“Lay with me?” Reclining onto the cushions, the blanket was soft along your bare skin.

He nodded. Following after you and your body heat. Jonathan pressed multitudes of kisses across your shoulders and neck. All of them soft and barely hiding his rapid breathing. He kept himself propped up on his arms. Ones you gladly held onto.

A light gasp escaped him as you made room for him between your legs. In response, Jonathan laid an openmouthed kiss just below your ear. Delicately, he adjusted his hips to align with yours.

It was a wonder how close you could be and yet still not be close enough.

Rocking your hips, you aided his member to run along your folds. You closed your eyes at the pleasurable sensations that zipped through you. Between his kisses and his movements, it was beginning to consume your mind.

“I need you.”

Your whisper caused Jonathan to stop moving.

“Are you sure?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you properly.

“Very sure, Jonathan. And… Oh, please know I want this. You. Truly.” You cradled his face between your hands. “I want to be with you.”

Behind eyeglasses, emotions swirled in Jonathan’s eyes.

“Just us.”

Leaning down, Jonathan kissed you fervently. All lips and panting hot breaths. He released his emotions full heartedly.

You felt as he guided his tip to your entrance.

Your sudden moan startled him, if only for a second. He managed to see your smile. Amongst the semidarkness, he found one of your hands to hold.

“Easy,” you used your free hand to hold his hip as he eased himself into your warmth. A moan left you, mixing into a giddy laugh and back to a moan. “Good.”

“Good?” Jonathan asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Very.” You kissed his lips eagerly.

You almost came then.

Safe and adored, you could be in his arms forever. Just like that. In the quiet and peaceful night without a care of what happened outdoors. It was you and Jonathan. All you wanted.

A gasp shot out of you as Jonathan gave a particularly pleasant thrust. You tightened your hold on him.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

Could you both have more?

More time together to explore domestic bliss and passionate moments between work life would be an extended goal. One you were adding onto each day whether consciously or not. You would be with Jonathan because you both wanted to. No one could convince you otherwise.

“Darlin’, you’re—,” Jonathan inhaled sharply, “—so beautiful.” His words raced out as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

Your legs were squeezing around him, limbs locked tightly while you both met your pelvises together again and again.

“Don’t stop. Please… Jonathan.”

Sucking in much needed air, you shut your eyes. You let your body do what it craved, thrusting and quivering until it all came to a peak. It hit you like a wave.

Faintly, you could hear a ramble. A repetitive chant of your name.

You opened your eyes.

A loud gasp came from Jonathan as he quickly removed himself from you. His climax rushed through him quickly. Hands clasping the blanket as he came over you.

In a huff, Jonathan fell into your embrace. His hot breath fanned across your collarbone.

“We did it,” he whispered breathlessly, almost to himself.

“And it was amazing by the way.”

You could almost picture him flushing at your words.

Kissing the side of his head, you wrapped your arms around his back.

“Later, do you wanna take a shower, handsome?”

“A shower?”

“Yeah…” You ran a finger along his spine. “You’re welcome to stay over. Please?”

“I would not think to refuse.” Jonathan kissed your collarbone. “I’ll surely sleep well with you, darlin’.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x f! reader #female reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane fluff #smut #where dreamers go #dc comics #jonathan crane fanfic #it's been a while since I wrote for Jonathan Crane #dr crane #doctor jonathan crane x reader #doctor jonathan crane

[nocturnest]

Oooo I thought of an idea for the 3rd part of Amor and Timor!! You know how it left off with Jonathan staying over at Y/n’s apartment? Imagine her ex knocking on her door and either she answers the door and he forces himself in (which was not a good idea because guess who is sitting in her living room🤭🫣) orrrr JONATHAN answers the door… Either way the man is face to face with a very angry Jonathan Crane that now feels he needs to use more of what’s up his sleeve so that her ex gets the idea to leave her alone😅 Ooof and when that door closes behind him, either way he’d be locked in there with The Scarecrow who feels very protective of his girl🫣

I don’t know that her ex would leave this interaction alive😅

@kpopgirlbtssvt AHH LOVE THIS IDEA! protective jonathan for the win!

warnings: mild violence, references to sex (but they haven't actually done it yet don't worry!), a threatening presence

Your apartment was cozy. That was the first thing that came to mind when Jonathan stepped in. There were piles of books scattered across the room, a quite comforting similarity between your apartment and his own.

And now, here you two were. Your head in his lap as he slowly combed through your soft hair with his fingers. If only he knew how much he was affecting you with his feather-light touch.

Jonathan could sense that you were at peace, that you desired his presence. You wouldn't have sought him out otherwise, but he wasn't used to being accepted so willingly, to being able to be so open with another, to being wanted.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room. You had picked a psychological thriller, Se7en. It wasn't necessarily scary but it made your skin crawl. There were moments when you snuggled closer to Jonathan, your nose nuzzling his neck. While Jonathan didn't like to see you frightened, he couldn't help but feel a sort of pride that you found solace in him, that his presence meant you were safe.

As Jonathan continued to run his fingers through your hair with gentle strokes, you felt yourself drifting into a state of blissful relaxation. The stresses of the day melted away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that only his touch could provide.

Just as you were on the brink of drifting off to sleep, a sharp knock at the door shattered the peaceful atmosphere. You jolted awake, the sudden interruption jarring you back to reality.

Jonathan's expression hardened as he rose from the couch, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

You gave a sleepy smile, "Not at this time of night."

"I'll get it," he said, squeezing your hand before making his way to the door, his posture tense yet controlled.

As Jonathan swung open the door, your ex stood on the threshold, his presence an unwelcome intrusion into your sanctuary. You stood up from the couch with shaky legs. Before your ex could utter a word, Jonathan's icy gaze silenced him, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Well, well, well," Jonathan said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who decided to drop by uninvited." He immediately wishes he had his fear gas with him, which he wouldn't hesitate to use on this man (if he could even call him that).

From what you can see over Jonathan's shoulder, there was anger in your ex's expression, and then utter confusion.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Hm," hummed Jonathan thoughtfully as he looked down and inspected the shirt that you had given him, "I suppose it's mine now." You couldn't see Jonathan's expression as he speaks but he's grinning.

You wanted him to be more comfortable as he was staying the night. In fact, you had bought the shirt yourself for your ex but he never ended up wearing the damn thing. He claimed that he wouldn't be caught dead in it.

Your ass of an ex scowled, threw his hands up with frustration, and practically roared with anger like the complete and utter fool that he was, "You're seriously going to choose this twig over me? You're already whoring yourself out to other men? I'm not surprised that you're that desperate. You were terrible in bed anyways."

Something flicked in Jonathan's expression. Jonathan's grin widened, a glint of mischief yet anger dancing in his eyes as he exchanged a knowing glance with you. He leaned against the doorframe casually, his demeanor almost playful despite the tension in the air.

"Well, I must admit your assessment of her character is quite revealing of your own," Jonathan remarked, his tone cool and collected.

Jonathan tilted his head and whispered something you couldn't quite hear, "I'll have you know that she's remarkable in bed. In fact, my throat is rather sore from screaming her name. But you don't need me to tell you that, do you?"

Your ex's face contorted with rage, his fists trembling at his sides as he struggled to find a retort. But before he could unleash another verbal assault, Jonathan stepped forward, his presence towering over him.

"Now, now, there's no need for name-calling," Jonathan said, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "I suggest you take a lesson in manners before you go around insulting people. It's unbecoming, you uncouth oaf."

Your ex gave another look of anger but also bewilderment. You were trying and failing to hold back laughter.

He paused and backtracked, "Oh - my sincerest apologies, I know better than to use words that you don't know." He emphasized the last three words by prodding your ex's chest with his finger.

Your ex fidgets with his hands and shuffles backwards, "You-"

Jonathan interrupted him, his thoughts elsewhere, waving his hand away from the door, "Go on, now. Begone! Please assist with depriving us of your pathetic presence."

Your ex looked between you and Jonathan, his face unreadable, and before you could even speak, he leaned backward before punching Jonathan in the face.

You gasp with surprise as your ex's fist connected with Jonathan's face with a sickening thud, sending him stumbling backward. Shocked gasps escaped your lips as you watched Jonathan's glasses clatter to the floor, his hand instinctively flying to his now bleeding nose.

Without a second thought, adrenaline surged through you as you rose to your feet, your protective instincts kicking in. You stepped forward, your voice trembling with fury.

"Get out," you spat, your tone dripping with venom. "Get out of my apartment and never come back."

Your ex recoiled at the intensity of your words, his eyes widening with fear as he realized the gravity of the situation. With a muttered curse, he turned on his heel and fled from the apartment, his retreat marked by the sound of the slamming door.

As the echoes of his departure faded into silence, you turned your attention back to Jonathan and reached for a kitchen towel. With your heart pounding in your chest, you approached him cautiously and lifted his chin with gentle hands, meeting his pained gaze with a mixture of concern and determination.

"Let me see," you murmured, your voice soft as you examined the damage to his nose. Blood trickled down his face, staining his shirt with crimson droplets.

Jonathan winced as you gingerly touched the tender skin around his nose, his breath catching in his throat. You pressed the towel against his face. Despite the pain etched on his features, there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he looked at you, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

As you tended to Jonathan's injury, your hands trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and concern, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush. "I should have been more careful. I didn't expect him to... to..."

Jonathan shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain. "It's not your fault," he reassured you, his voice soft yet resolute. "You couldn't have known he would react like that."

You sighed, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at his words. "Still, I should have been prepared. I should have stood up to him sooner."

Jonathan reached out, his hand bringing yours to his lips for a kiss. "You did stand up to him," he said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering intensity. "You showed courage and strength in the face of adversity. And for that, I admire you."

A blush crept across your cheeks at his words, a warmth spreading through you at the sincerity in his gaze. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "That means a lot to me."

You grinned as you recalled Jonathan's words to your ex, "You really know how to shut someone down with style. I must say, your insults are quite impressive."

Jonathan's lips curled into a smirk, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Well, I do try to maintain a certain level of eloquence, even in the face of ignorance," he quipped, his tone light yet tinged with amusement.

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between you as you basked in the aftermath of the confrontation. "Consider me thoroughly entertained," you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes.

Jonathan's laughter mingled with yours, the sound filling the room with warmth and light. As the laughter subsided, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. You marveled at how beautiful his smile was.

For a while, the two of you sat on the couch in companionable silence, the only sound filling the room the quiet hum of the heater and the soft patter of snow against the windowpane. And as you curled into Jonathan's side, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling of connection that transcended words. You felt safe.

@kiss-me-cill-me hope you enjoy part three!

@mothhball thought you might be interested!

#jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #the scarecrow #batman begins #nolanverse #christopher nolan #cillian murphy #the dark knight #dark knight #dark knight trilogy #the dark knigth rises

[gothy-froggy]

I miss your every kiss

AK!Jonathan Crane x goth!fem!reader

She/her for reader

Warnings: patching Jonathan’s face, needles, fluff, possibly hurt & comfort, definitely comfort for Jonathan, insecure Jonathan, slightly suggestive if you squint, Not proofread

Summary: Jonathan thinks back to different moments his lovely wife as she patched him up from a fight. He wonders, how did he get so lucky?

————————————————————————-

Cold, dense, agony, miserable.

These were the things Jonathan felt, grunting at the pain form the sharp needle as he worked to keep his face from falling apart. How could his wonderful plan go all to waste? How could the Batman, not feel fear? His frightening toxin not do anything to him?

Part of him wonders, was it Batman who wasn’t afraid, or the man behind that mask? Perhaps both? It didn’t matter. No, not right now. What matters is him getting back on his feet, climb his way back as a feared villain of Gotham. The media perused him as dead, but he could assure the people of Gotham that he is not. Just slowly piecing himself back together. Literally in a sense.

As he walked in the sewers below, he felt as the pain course through his body. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Slowly walking, hissing at any shift that causes his damaged leg trouble. His one working cloudy eye quickly scanning around.

He needed a way out. He needed to escape. His work, his toxin, his reputation, life,

His wife.

He stopped, leaning over a wasted crate as he tried to control his breathing.

Would he still have a wife? How long has he been down here? That was something he couldn’t tell. Even if she was looking for him, why would she stay? He looked…hideous.

His thoughts continued as he made it out, at the edge of city itself. He could barely make out the boats in the water. It was night, moon hitting the water. The thoughts continued as he water the water, getting louder as he closed his eyes.

His cloudy eyes shifted slowly once they opened, hearing faint footsteps, slowly getting louder with each step. It stopped, to the side slightly behind him. He turned, heart racing as his eyes widened.

“Oh darling,” She whispered out, gently touching his face. Mumbling a sorry when he let out a groan. She observed him head to toe, bringing him back to one of their locations.

He sat there, watching her finish up patching his face, stopping when he told her to.

“Gotham will pay, my love. It’s only a matter of time.” She reassured him.

Jonathan’s hand ghostly touching her suit, feeling the nice fabric of her black suit. He couldn’t understand. Why wasn’t she afraid of him? Not walking away, not disgusted by the way he looks? Here she was in her all black professional suit, carefully stitching his face together with fabric for him, not an hint of fear of his damaged face. She still wore her ring too. But again, he couldn’t help but think of the question again,

Why isn’t she afraid of him? Disgusted by him?

He here now, curled in a ball, muttering to himself. The look of pure terror in his eyes as he scurried away from his wife. To be fair, she looks undead to him. No, no, it can’t be. Her voice echoing in his mind,

“Why didn’t you save me?”

What happened? What have he done? What haven’t he done?

Feeling restricted as he screamed, his wife screaming his name, forced to see her decomposing face. His new greatest fear, losing her.

“Jonny,” Jonathan opened his eyes again. She was there. Alive and well. A sigh of relief escaped through his teeth. Her smile wiping the memories of what he saw from the fear toxin away.

“I’ve got you.” She whispered, looking at him oh so lovingly. And once again, he couldn’t help but ask in his mind,

Why isn’t she afraid of him? Disgusted by him?

Jonathan came back from a disappointing conflict, resulting to his scarecrow textured face getting damaged. His wife, now sits on the desk with the needed materials, fixing him up. Her long, black dress, winged sleeves tied back as she focused on stitching things back.

“You’re concerning me, Crane.” Ah, Crane. She was serious. Jonathan only stayed silent, only letting out soft noises of discomfort from the needle as she finished up his cheek.

“Why?” The room got quiet. She looked into his eyes. Puzzled by his short question, tilting her head.

“Why what?”

“Why are you still here? Look at me,” Jonathan was giving her a partially accidental glare.

“Rough fabric, hideous, no lips, yet you are still here. Why?” He voice ever so slightly quivered. She leaned in, gently placing her forehead on his. It was their substitute for a kiss.

“How does your appearance partakes who you are, my dear?” He shivered as a hand followed his jawline.

“You could be nothing but a beast, and I would still be by your side. Be with you.” She said above a whisper, pressing a kiss on what remained of his lips. unable to stop himself, Jonathan’s tongue slipped inside her mouth, letting out a soft groan. Only to pout as it came to an end. His face expressed grim.

“I miss your every kiss. The ones from the past.” He mumbled. It was a shame. They were so great. He feel everything. It was harder and different now.

“Though I do not miss the time that I haven’t had any.” Jonathan placed his forehead against hers. He pulled her in by her waist, enjoying the warmth form both her body and her laughter. He truly couldn’t believe he how found someone who loved him. Someone so loyal and faithful to him as he is for her. He grabbed her hand, glancing at their matching silver ring. Both with such tiny gothic details engraved inside.

Jonathan brought her hand up to his teeth, gently nibbling on it as his form of a kiss. He was always secretly eager for her warm and soft skin. Her soft skin against his rough fingers.

“How did I…end up so lucky, with a wife like you?”

“Not quite sure, but let me finish patching you up. Then you have to eat. You will eat, right Jonathan?” She said his name sternly.

“Or is the Scarecrow going to keep you a hostage for the plan?” Jonathan let out a soft chuckle, helping her off his lap.

“I will,” He agreed. She finished patching his face, pressing a kiss in his teeth, leaving a bit of her colored lipstick on them.

“I could never love someone like I love, Jonny.”

“I feel the same for you, my dear.” He watched her leave.

The Batman may be a fear of his, but losing her who is the absolute love of his life was one as well. It was one he finds worthy to avoid.

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#Spotify #arkham knight jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #arkham knight scarecrow #arkham knight #arkhamverse #Arkham knight Jonathan crane x reader #Ak!Jonathan Crane #Ak Jonathan Crane #the scarecrow x reader #Batman the scarecrow #fan fic writing #x reader #arkham knight x reader

[madame-fear]

yandere! dk! jonathan crane x fem!reader | general headcanons

request : can you do an imagine with yandery dk Jonathan Crane and a fem SO whos shockingly cool with it? “Oh you kidnapped me to keep me safe? Seem reasonable.” Kinda vibes. Absolutely love you!! (requested by: @kakepuff1234)

a/n : ahh thank you so so much dear, love you all too! 🥺💖 you have nooo idea how much i love the idea of yandere! nolanverse crane, so here it goes! 😌 if you'd like an imagine/one shot for this, feel free to tell me and i'll gladly do it <333

TW // Jonathan being a bit too obsessed with you, basically a yandere. Mentions of kidnapping and sickening obsession, but reader doesn't seem to mind.

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• The second Jonathan laid his eyes on you, he would've been hit with awe at such graceful sight; he had an almost immediate need of approaching you.

• You were his next door neighbour, and the two of you live on houses who are near Arkham Asylum. He accidentally bumped on you when none of you seemed to be looking at where you had going, and after meeting you, there was no going back.

• Interactions started slow between the two of you. ""Casually"" bumping into each other (say: at the grocery store near your home, walking pass through Arkham, or even, with the classic "do you have some sugar?" technique) was something often happening. You paid no mind to it whatsoever, and found him to be rather interesting.

• The burning, fervid obsession grew as days passed. Jonathan could barely handle the sight of you laughing, talking, or joking with another man who wasn't him. Can't you see, he's the one who so deserves, and is so in love with you?

• Then, as the obsession grew, Jonathan was truly avid to know every single detail about you, and make you his – so, the stalking as Scarecrow happened. Without you noticing, of course.

• Another thing happening with you two are small interactions, when, say, you bump into each other at the grocery store. "How have you been?" would usually be the keyphrase to start a conversation with you.

• After a short while, you got fully used to him. Often waving and smiling at him whenever you saw him somewhere; and that makes his lil growing yandere heart to go 🥰😍💖❤‼

• At this point, his excuse to meet him at his home would be to say that "you seem a lovely neighbour, and that he'd like to know you properly": and we all know that he just wants to keep you with him. Every day, all day long.

• Oh boy, you said yes to him. You're meeting at 9 at his home, unknowingly about to stay by his side for, probably, the rest of your life.

• Jonathan is truly charming with his looks and his captivating personality: it's almost as if he were hypnotising, in a way. He made dinner for you, like a true gentleman, and gave you the absolute princess treatment – only so you could be enchanted by him, just like he always hoped for.

• Didn't put anything into your food or beverage. Though, he had a fear toxin near him in case you tried anything funny when he forces you to stay with him – basically, kidnap you.

• Hours passed: you laughed, chatted, joked around, and even teased with each other. And of course, since everything has it's end, you eventually realised it was time to go back home.

“Would you look at the hour?” you said, abruptly changing the topic of the conversation as you slightly lifted your sleeve to take a look to the watch on your wrist. Jonathan's face fell. “I think, it's time for me to get going–” as you swinged your bag on your shoulder, you grabbed your car keys and made your way towards his front door; only to be stooped halfway by him, blocking the door.

“No, you shouldn't.” Your eyes lightly furrowed, looking at the nuance of his facial expressions. His usual icy blue eyes had oddly turned a darker shade. “It's dangerous out there. A lady like you shouldn't be out at such late hour, especially in a city like Gotham.” he continued, “You're staying here until I say so.” Jonathan slowly started walking towards you, as you instinctively made a few steps backwards. Your face suddenly softened, as you began sliding your bag down your arm, placing it on a nearby chair. “So... you're basically kinda kidnapping me, just so you can keep me safe? Seems reasonable enough, I'm staying.”

What? Now it was Jonathan's turn to furrow his eyebrows in a mild confusion. He expected you to make a fuss about it: screaming and crying for your life, begging for him to let go of you to the point where he'd have to, sadly, fear gas you to calm you down. But it turned out, to be a rather much more pleasant surprise, which made his lips turn into a tiny smile. “Anyways, you've got any clothing to spare? Sleeping with this on is going to be rather uncomfy.”

• Oh. Well. This was better than the scenario he had originally expected. Would be pretty bamboozled, though. You're okay with the fact that... he literally just admitted to you he was going to kidnap you????

• And quite honestly, he is taken aback by your "chill" answer... but I guess he doesn't mind???

• So you just make yourself at home. It kinda annoys you the fact that you can't go out without him following you everywhere, but it's alright, you don't mind.

• Also it's kinda like a silly kidnapping, at the edge of living with him, rather than being kidnapped. He literally helped you move your things to his home...

• Jonathan will also get much possesive with you, now that he's got you under his watch. Always monitoring who you talk to, what you do, where you go, not letting you leave the house by yourself, everything: just like the yandere man he is.

• BUT EVEN THAT !!! You either don't care about him being a possesive, soft yandere with you, or you're oblivious to it.

“Oh, so you want me to stop talking to him? THANK YOU, you have no idea how annoying he was. What should I tell him next time I bump into him?”

• Honestly he doesn't mind at all. He's quite satisfied how you don't care about it, and how you sweetly reciprocate the love and affection he shows and gives you.

• Eventually, he kinda felt as if you needed your own freedom; no matter how badly yandere he is. Of course, he's always going to keep an eye on you: but if you desire to go out by yourself without having him following you from behind, he'll gladly let you do so, and it shall be whatever God wants.

• Jonathan was terribly afraid that once you left his home by yourself, you'd never return. But oddly enough, you came back! You had gone out to buy some groceries for the two of you, and you had bought his favourite snacks.

“Love, I'm back! Apologies for how late I am, the queue was enormous. Anyways, I brought you your favourite snacks. Want some?”

• THE WAY HIS EYES INCREDIBLY LIT UP AT THE SIGHT OF YOU COMING BACK HOME TO HIM.

• Oh my. He's a fervid yandere who desires you to be with him 24/7 and admittedly confessed to you that he was going to kidnap you, and after a while he did so he let you out to go by yourself and you came back to him????

• Saying he's head over heels for you is truly an understimation. He will literally PRAISE you to no end, and will shower you with love and admiration, happy that you recriprocate his lil' obsessed feelings for you.

──────────────────────

♡ taglist : ♡

@wittywitchness @anemicroyalties @imagine--if @scarecrow-jon-babe

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane headcanons #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow headcanons #yandere jonathan crane x reader #yandere scarecrow x reader #batman rogues x reader #batman rogues headcanons #batman villains x reader #batman villains headcanons #batman begins #dark knight #dark knight trilogy x reader #dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #yandere headcanons

[frequentlysecondo]

Mia Arancia || Fluff || Primo x gn!Reader

Tl;dr: Sharing fruit as a love language and Primo deserves a break from gardening in the summer.

This is my first time posting writing on tumblr, I apologize if my formatting is a little clumsy <3

In the enchanting nature of the Ministry’s garden, the rows of greenery were bathed in the golden hues of the rapidly approaching end of the day and appeared as otherworldly as ever. Primo could be seen standing in the middle of his growing vegetables, looking reminiscent of a scarecrow as he marveled over what must’ve been long hours of work, remaining motionless as he stood exactly where you had hoped to find him.

Primo simply observed your leisure stroll as you made your way closer and arched an eyebrow curiously. His gaze flickered between your approaching figure and the horizon, questioning the unexpected visit. Nonetheless, the sight of you beckoning him from the other side of the garden with an eager wave only piqued his interest further. Knowing your penchant for mischief and mystery, a smile tugged at his face when you approached.

Drawing closer to Primo, you tilted your head, studying his countenance intently. His voice, though calm and composed, carried a note of playful suspicion.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" He inquired with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You're up to something, aren't you, mio dolcezzo?"

You shook your head, your faux serious expression suddenly shifting into a wide grin. "No, no," you responded, your voice laden with a faux sense of urgency. "This is a matter of very serious business, my dear. C’mere." With a playful flourish, you waggled your fingers and extended a hand in a hopeful invitation.

Once your fingers had interlaced together, the two of you ventured further into the back corners of the garden. Eventually, your steps came to a halt, leading you to a secluded alcove adorned by a magnificent orange tree. Its branches gracefully bowed under the weight of growing fruit imbued with the warm hues of a setting sun. Primo’s eyes sparkled with delight as his gaze swept over the nearly picturesque scene before him, his eyes moving from the lush emerald leaves to your face. A smile played upon his lips as he clasped your hands in his own, your fingers entwined like an unbreakable bond.

“Ah, you’ve led me to the orange tree,” he whispered, a blend of curiosity and surprise clearly evident in his words. A confused chuckle escaped him.

“I had planned on harvesting these in a few days time.” he admitted with a hint of amusement.

Before he could continue, you drew his attention to a particularly low-hanging branch which bent under the weight of a perfectly ripe orange. Excitement brimmed in your voice as you pointed it out, the already wrinkled sleeve of his shirt crumpled further in your fist in attempt to pull his body closer to the branch in question.

“But look! This one is ripe today.”

Leaning over your shoulder, Papa reached up to gracefully pluck the orange from its branch. A glimmer of admiration danced in your eyes as you watched his movements, amazed by the confidence held in the simple swing of his arm as he brought it back down to open his palm in a proposal.

“Are you suggesting we share our first orange of the harvest?” He gently turned the fruit in his hand, inspecting the dip where the gentle curve of a leather peel met the wooden stem. The time spent considering what he had asked was closer to a day dream rather than a debate on your actual answer, artificial hesitation induced by an overactive imagination. After a few moments your distraction was cut short by the feel of firm, pitted rind being pressed into your palm. “We must eat it together, of course," His expression beamed with a sense of pride as he spoke, eagerly presenting you with the literal fruit of his labor as a treasure to be cherished, shared.

“I’ve always thought oranges are best when split with someone else.” It was hard to resist a smile while agreeing and holding the orange up to the light to study it for yourself. Sitting down in the grass under the tree, there’s a comforting wave of tranquility as you lean back against the textured bark before pushing a fingernail against the rough skin of the fruit and slowly beginning to pull it apart. Primo slowly sits down next to you with a soft sigh as his muscles stretch, your shoulders bumping together sending a rush of electricity through your veins even after all the time you’d spent together.

"You know, you're quite good at peeling these things," he mentions quietly as he studies your movements. "How do you do it so effortlessly?" He asks curiously, raising a brow. You laugh in response, the sound twinkling like wind chimes in the light breeze as you held out a slice of the orange to Primo.

“Lots of practice. Oranges are my favorite.”

"Orange peeling is a rather unique skill to practice," The grin that shines on his face could easily beat out the brilliance of the sun when he reaches out to take the section of fruit.

“You can peel it so easily and swiftly," He continues with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“You always make the simplest of things most interesting. Thank you for offering your skills to me, mia arancia." His attempts to butter you up make you laugh, scooting closer to him in order to duck under his arm despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air.

"We'll have to share one each day, sì?" He suggests while biting into the orange slice, the sweet juice dribbling on his chin and smearing along the black lines of his face paint that was already distorted by the sweat of the day.

“I would like that very much. It’ll remind you to take a break, too.” You tease Primo playfully. Despite being retired, he still insists upon spending long days tending to his plants, rare to take a rest without being prompted. The thought of meeting every day for something so small simmered in your mind, the tender domesticity of being near one another for no real reason other than to exist. Together.

“Did you know there’s a lot of poetry about sharing oranges with your loved ones?” You ask suddenly as you pop a slice of the juicy fruit into your mouth and continue to peel the opposite side.

"I didn't know that," he admits. "About the poetry." He pauses for a moment. "What does it say?" He asks quietly while he lays his head atop yours, content to watch your fingers move swiftly to continue separating the sections.

“It’s all symbolic of sharing your life and love in a gentle way. A simple act of service can carry great meaning, you see?”

Pure contentment bubbles in your chest as you feel Papa shift closer to you and the feather light flutter of his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder is enough to make you wonder if you have ever truly felt this peaceful before. You hold up another piece of the fruit close to his face in offering as you explain further.

“To love someone enough to cherish the mundane. I’ll read you some.”

And so you sat together until long after the horizon imitated the color of the fruit passed between between your hands, repeating lines of prose while sharing an orange or three with the sweet nectar sticky between your fingers and lips.

“[..] They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all the jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I'm glad I exist.”

-The Orange, Wendy Cope, 1992

#ghost bc #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus I #papa primo #primo #primo x reader #papa emeritus i x reader #primo emeritus #fluff #self indulgent fluff #sharing fruit as a love language #Tabbi Writes

[innocent-cat]

Hello!! Welcome to tumblr!! Can I request genji taking reader to fun dates?

Hi! thank you for the warm welcome<3 I dont know if you want headcannons or a oneshot, so im sorry if you wanted headcannons (っ◞‸◟ c) Genji Shimada x Reader Warnings - None

"Carnival date", Genji x Reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

Watching yourself in the mirror, you pose in your outfit to make sure you don't look odd. You wore a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a red zip up, as the weather was getting colder day by day into the winter.

Genji, your sweet boyfriend, invited you on a date to a local carnival. He said he'd pick you up around this time, and he was about.. 2 minutes late. You were nervously picking at your nail beds, hoping he hadn't forgotten about your little date.

Knock knock

"Hellooo? You could hear the smile Genji had on from through the door. Letting a smile creep onto your face, you fix your hair just one more time, grab your bag, and lead yourself to the door.

You looked him up and down, and took note of his outfit. It was a casual date, so he sported a grey hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

"Hey." You smiled at him, and glanced down to his hand that he now held out. You placed your hand in his, as he began to make small talk to entertain the two of you.

Walking hand in hand to the carnival, you noticed all the bright lights softly glowing in the now darkening sky. You had left your apartment at 4, so that means you had arrived at around 4:45-ish.

"Genji, wont the carnival be closing soon?" You sheepishly asked, turning to look at the cyborg ninja you called your boyfriend. "Its a special event that I didn't read much into- but it'll be open until twelve tonight." He continued to guide you through the fair, making sure the two of you don't get split up.

"Oh- look at the cotton candy stall! We should get some!" You turn to him, tugging on his hoodie sleeve to gain his attention in a childlike manner. Genji lets out a laugh, and rolls out a 'sure', and walks over to the stand with you. Ordering the cotton candy, he hands you the colorful cloud of stringed sugar. Both of you pulling off clumps and taking bites of the sugary substance, you tread slowly around the carnival. (A/N please pretend he can eat through his mask i cant battle the logic right now) Stopping around at certain places to take pictures, or going through a line to enter a roller coaster, Genji's hand remained in your's during the whole night. Even when you guys decided to take a picture at the animal wall, poking your heads through two little holes likely meant for a child, and having someone take your picture. Sharing laughter throughout the night, the animal picture became the lock screen to both your phone and his phone. A cute gesture shared between the two of you, that made you giddy and fall in love with the guy all over again. "Oh my gosh- we should go on the ferris wheel Genji! What else is there to do on a totally romantic carnival date? It's the perfect finish to our night!" You pleaded and reasoned towards him, expecting nothing less of what you received. "That's a good idea, I'd like that. Let's get in line right now, actually." He looked down at you, smiling, again guiding you through the crowd of what you now realized were couples and pulled you to the ride. You giddily smiled and fidgeted with his hands, as you waited in the line. Once again, making small talk." "Okay okay- but heres one better than that- Why did the scarecrow get an award?" Genji laughed through his words and smiled down at you, waiting for your response to the dad jokes that you two had been giggling at through out your wait time. Smiling, you asked 'why?' through another laugh.

"Because he was outstanding in his field." You and genji threw yourselves into another fit of giggles over jokes that weren't even funny, but they were funny because it was told by each other. Someone you loved. "Next in line please!" The line conductor beckoned to the two of you, as the two of you walked towards the cart and walked in. sitting on the opposite side of each other, smiling, and talking to each other, occasionally pointing out something weird on ground level, or talking about how pretty the sky was. Once at the top of the wheel, it stopped. Genji placed his mask to the side of himself, letting you take in his face. Something that not many got to see, but he was more than comfortable with showing you at all times if he could. Fireworks in the distance marked midnight, beautifully. Pink and red, purple and yellow, black and white fireworks rung out through your ears. Patterns popped throughout the dark sky, making it bright again. You watched the fireworks, then turned to your boyfriend, taking in how he looked in the moment. You found it endearing how he looked at the fireworks with a smile. He turned to you when he felt your eyes on him and smiled even wider. "Thanks for tonight, Genji. It's really been fun." He pulled you in closer to him, now sitting on his left side. Taking your cheek with his hand, and pulled your face even closer, now just centimeters apart. "For you, I would do anything to make sure you're happy."

He locks his lips with yours, a sweet, and longing kiss. Nothing more shared between the two of you in that moment that love, and endearment for one another.

#Genji x reader #genji x reader #genji shimada x reader #genji shimada #overwatch #overwatch2 #x reader #xreader #gender neautral reader #oneshot #fluff

[meowdarame]

sex is the solution!

pairings: satori tendou x fem!reader x shion madarame (afab!reader, she/her pronouns)

synopsis: you foolishly butt in on your boyfriends’ petty argument, and they handle your disrespect the way that they deem best— by fucking you into submission.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! tr and hq crossover; dom!tendou, sub/switch!shion, sub!reader, mmf threesome (with m! x m! and f! x m! interactions), poly relationship, cockwarming, oral (both f! and m! receiving), one slap to the thigh, light degradation, lots of praise, overstimulation (f!receiving), edging (m!receiving), creampie, facials

word count: 2.4k

notes: my submission for snow’s and z’s selfship collab! a little glimpe into the lives of the diontori trio, but written in ‘x reader’ format so y’all can enjoy it too heh. hope you enjoy! reblogs and feedback is super appreciated!

“shion, how many fucking times do i have to tell you to remove your hair from the drain after you shower?!” satori shouts, clutching a soggy piece of toilet paper with something wrapped inside it. he marches up to your other boyfriend, who’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch with his thighs spread wide.

satori opens up the wad of paper, revealing a clump of tangled blonde hair. “this is the second time this week i’ve had to pull your bleach-fried, scarecrow hair out of the damn drain!”

shion scoffs indignantly, ignoring the redhead’s barrage of insults. he doesn’t even look up at the outstretched hand in front of him, continuing to type away on his phone as he replies casually, “it’s not mine.”

“not yours?” from the agitation in satori’s voice, you can tell that he’s quickly losing his patience. “you’re the only person in this household with blonde hair, dumbass. how could it not be yours?”

shion’s eyes flit once to satori’s face before they return to his phone screen. like tendou, he’s losing his patience just as fast. “like i said, not mine. or are you hard of hearing? maybe you should worry less about cleaning the shower drain and spend more time cleaning your fucking ears!” the blonde snickers at his own joke, relishing in the way that tendou’s face burns red and his expression contorts into a scowl.

suddenly, his frown wipes itself clean off of his face, being replaced with a look of amusement. the corners of his lips curl upwards into a twisted grin. “oh, i’m sorry. that’s my bad! i forgot you were bad eyesight. here— let me give you a better look.” satori shoves the sopping piece of toilet paper into the blonde’s face, smearing it all over his cheek and mouth.

shion immediately reels back and wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. through frantic spits, shion screeches, “oh, you’re gonna fucking pay for that, asshole!”

without warning, the blonde lunges for tendou, tackling him and pinning him to the floor. the two wrestle around for a bit, neither of them gaining the upper hand over the other, but they both stop when your annoyed voice breaks through their slurry of frustrated grunts and pained groans.

“if you guys are gonna act like idiots, can you please take it somewhere else? i can’t even watch a show without the two of you being so goddamn annoying.”

both of their heads spin towards you, shooting you fierce glares as you stare back at them in silence. “i’m sorry, sweetheart,” satori starts, lifting himself off of shion’s splayed-out body. “care to repeat that again?”

you gulp as the redhead stalks towards you, the blonde following suit. immediately regretting snapping at them, you pout and mutter under your breath, “you guys are being annoying. i just wanted to watch my show in peace.”

“annoying, huh?” tendou spits back, plopping down next to you onto the couch and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “that’s a little mean, don’t you think, shion?”

“a little mean?” shion responds, sitting on the other side of your body. they’re both so close, their warm breaths fanning your cheeks, and you feel caged in by both of their predatory gazes. “i think it’s fucking rude, if we’re being honest.”

they continue their conversation as if you weren’t there. “right?” tendou chirps back. “we were just playing around, ‘til she had to butt in and insult us!” he presses a languid kiss to your cheek, letting his lips linger against your skin as he continues on, “i think this bad behavior warrants a punishment. what do you think, shion?”

“of course it does,” shion agrees, eagerly nodding his head. in your peripheral vision, you can see a smug smirk settled onto his face. “she needs to learn her lesson— that we don’t tolerate her disrespect.”

satori hums once before his fingers fly to your waist, tugging off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. you squeal at the hasty movement, and tendou quells your squirming by landing a harsh slap to your thigh, making the soft flesh jiggle on impact. “strip, shion,” tendou commands, and the blonde enthusiastically complies.

hooking his arms around your waist, tendou guides you to straddle shion’s lap, and your other boyfriend rubs his fat tip along your folds and around your clit until you’re sufficiently soaked enough to take him fully. once they hear the lewd squelching sounds coming from your pussy, shion digs his nails into your hips and pushes you down onto his cock. you screech at the unanticipated intrusion, but satori drowns out your cries by crashing his lips against yours, kissing you fervently while shion’s hands rock your hips back and forth over his crotch.

“don’t fucking move,” satori chides. “you’re not free from punishment either. have you forgotten that we’re in this mess because you wanted to be lazy and leave your hair in the shower?”

shion groans in dismay but heeds tendou’s request, bringing his movements to a complete stop. tendou lowers himself off of the couch and kneels in between shion’s legs, his face merely a few centimeters from where you and shion are connected. he marvels at the thin ring of your cream that coats shion’s base. “already so close and he just barely put it in, huh? pathetic,” tendou coos sadistically, pressing a chaste kiss to your aching clit. “it’s almost like you wanted us to punish you. is that so, princess?”

“n-no, tori,” you stammer, mind growing hazy with how full you feel. “i didn’t mean to be rude, i just—”

he shuts you up by wrapping his pink lips around your sensitive bud, suckling and swiping it with his expert tongue. a whimper gets caught in your throat, and your palm cradles the back of tendou’s head, holding his face against your cunt as he absolutely devours you.

“fuck,” both you and shion rasp out, and you turn behind you to look at him. his eyelids are heavy and his wet lips are parted, a dribble of his saliva sliding down his chin. he grows drunk off the way that your walls clench around him so tightly— almost as if they’re trying to suck him deeper into you. his hands sneak under your shirt and cup at your tits, his calloused palms kneading your soft mounds. fingers tweaking and tugging at your nipples, his fervid actions force you to throw your head back and moan. since he can’t thrust up into you and fuck you, he’s finding other ways to entertain himself, exploring your body in search of anything that will bring him closer to his orgasm.

shion’s toying is short-lived, however. with a couple more swirls of his thick tongue around your sensitive clit, tendou makes you cum— hard. your pussy clamps down around shion’s length as you cry out, and the blonde relishes in the way that your plush walls flutter around him as you ride out your high. it’s so overwhelming for the both of you; everything feels so hot, so good, and neither of you can hold back the string of expletives that tumble out of your lips.

tendou pulls his face out from between your thighs, a lazy smile plastered across his face. your cum drips down his chin, and you can see the large tent that pokes out through his sweatpants. he makes no effort to hide how much he’s enjoying this— basking in the pleasure of knowing how pliant and obedient he can make you and shion.

“we’re gonna do this again,” satori reveals as he swipes his thumb across his chin and collects your juices. he pops the digit into his mouth and cleans it off, before adding on, “and again, and again, and again— until both of you learn not to talk back to me in my own home.”

“but it’s our house too,” shion pants out, his chest still heaving from his ruined orgasm.

“and for that snide comment, you just added another round to your punishment!” tendou cheers. “now before we continue, does anyone have any other stupid comments or objections to say!”

when you and shion respond in silence, tendou’s smile settles deeper into his cheeks. “good. now let’s see how long it’ll take for the two of you to break your bad habits.”

…

after your nth orgasm, you realized that satori only ever really lies in the bedroom.

his false promises of “sweetheart, just one more! you can take one more, can’t you?” and “shion, baby, hold out for me. you’re doing so good— i promise this is the last one!” were enough to trick you and shion into complying at the time, but in hindsight, you should have seen through his devious lies. tendou is insatiable in bed and has a penchant for all things sweet, and what’s sweeter than hearing yours and shion’s pitiful cries begging him to stop?

“okay, i think you two have learned your lesson,” satori exhales as he leans back onto his haunches. sweat beads down your face as you come down from the intense high, and through the thin fabric of your shirt, you feel shion’s flushed skin pressed against your back. you both sigh in relief, grateful that the past hour of cruel torture has finally come to an end. it’s too good to be true though, and you quickly discover that once satori opens his mouth to speak once more.

“now that we’re done with punishments, let’s move onto rewards— mine, to be exact.” he stands from his seat, pulling off his sweats and briefs and kicking them off of his ankles. he pumps his shaft a few times before placing his reddish tip in front of your lips. “suck,” he orders, and you eagerly take him into your mouth as far as you can, wrapping your hand around the rest of his length where you can’t reach. you bob your head up and down his dick, and gagging sounds rumble from your throat; satori bites his bottom lip to prevent himself from cumming on the spot, and he pulls his cock from your mouth with a pop.

shion’s head rests limply on your shoulder, your boyfriend far too exhausted to even keep his head upright. but it’s his turn now, and tendou taps his cockhead against the blonde’s cheek to let him know. shion slowly lifts his face from the crook of your neck, wearily lolling his tongue out and taking satori’s dick into his mouth. tendou takes mercy on his sorry state and holds up his head with both of his palms, gently bucking his hips into his boyfriend’s mouth. when he’s had his fill, the redhead pulls out of shion’s mouth and delivers one final command. “spit,” to which shion shoots a glob of his saliva onto tendou’s glistening cock.

satori lowers himself back onto the ground, retaking his former position between your thighs. your breath hitches as you watch him press a fleeting kiss to your swollen clit, but he lowers his mouth to shion’s balls.

“i bet you’re so pent up right now that i could just play with your balls and you’d cum, huh?” satori breathes out, nuzzling his cheek against shion’s flexed inner thigh. “why don’t we test my theory?”

tendou takes one of the blonde’s balls into his mouth, using his other hand to cup the one that’s being neglected. his fingers roll and massage his testicles, while his free hand jerks himself off. shion is quickly reduced down to a whimpering mess, burying his face into your shoulder and biting gently. from the soft whines coming from both of your boyfriends’ lips, you know that they��re not going to last very long.

satori’s hand flies upwards and grabs shion’s, which is holding desperately onto your waist. guiding his fingers to your pussy, the redhead nonverbally instructs shion to play with your clit. shion obeys, and he begins rubbing tight circles around the overstimulated nub, making your face wince at the intense stimulation.

tendou feels shion’s balls twitching in his mouth, and he knows that the blonde is close. he can tell that your impending orgasm is also just within your reach, from the way that your hole spasms around your boyfriend’s cock. satori hollows his cheeks and sucks gently as shion spills his seed into your fucked-out cunt, filling you up with a familiar warmth; your pussy milks him dry, contracting around him as he shoots thick strings of his cum into your womb. shion slurs praises into your ear, whispering indiscernible phrases thank you’s as he comes down from his high.

the redhead stands up and chokes out a quick “open your mouths, now!” before his hot cum spurts out of his slit, barely missing yours and shion’s parted lips and splattering all over your cheeks and chins. he throws his head back and groans as he empties himself, a pink tint creeping up his shoulders and neck from the euphoric pleasure overtaking his body. once his high plateaus, his scarlet eyes look down at the two of you, relishing in the mess that he’s made of his significant others.

“wow, my aim is fucking shit,” satori giggles to himself. he walks over to a nearby cabinet and pulls out a box of baby wipes. he grabs a few of the wet towelettes and hands them to the two of you.

“it’s better than mine at least,” shion chuckles as he cleans his face. “remember that one time i accidentally shot my cum straight into both of your eyes?”

“don’t remind me about it,” you quip back playfully. “i can feel my eyes burning from just thinking about it.” tossing the dirtied wipe onto the coffee table, you continue on, “are you both feeling better now, though? you don’t want to rip each other’s throats out anymore, right?”

both of the men eagerly nod their heads. “who knew that using sex to resolve petty arguments would be a great idea!” shion jokes, and the two of you join him in laughter.

catching your breath, you wheeze out, “i mean, it definitely worked, but next time i’d like for the three of us to at least have a civil conversation first.”

satori chimes in, “well, that’s only if shion remembers to take his straw-like hair out of the damn shower drain!”

“satori!”

“what? he started it!”

taglist will be in a separate reblog! thank you for your support!

#haikyuu smut #tokyo rev smut #tendou smut #shion smut #tendou x you #shion x you #🎲.writes #🎲.oneshots #💘— diontori!!

[like-rain-or-confetti]

And then he killed them.

The biggest betrayal was when the city looked to the Batman as a hero. Celebrated the rogues downfalls time and time again. The hatred was already pretty consistent. Then the Batman killed the love of their life. The rest didn't see it that way, deeming it an accident, but the rogues knew the truth. (Y/N) is dead because of the Batman.

The Riddler: "You put them in harms way. Your plan was the dangerous!" Batman insisted. "They would never have died because of me. I'm too brilliant." The Riddler said icily. Hatred crossed his features and then something seemed to come to mind. "I remember it like it was yesterday." He whispered, horror laced in his voice. "I'm frozen, I can't move. I can't talk after that one scream. It was my last. I can't look away from them even as I begin to panic and my heart feels like it'll pound out of my chest. My stomach heavy and I feel I could vomit at any second." His eyes lifted to Batman. "I watched them leave." He said quietly, voice cracking. "I saw them fade away right before me and now every night, they're always there.They're inches away from me when I try to sleep. Just staring at me with those empty eyes. Lying there on the bed just like the lay on the ground when they died, staring at me." He let out a shaky breath, determination in his eyes. "They're cold, there's nothing and I am alone!" Fury built in his eyes. "You took them from me and you will pay for that with your life!"

Scarecrow: "For all i know, you could have planned all of this. That (Y/N) was colateral damage." Batman said coldly. "Come now, detective. Look for the truth, not the answer you want. I did not want (Y/N) dead and I did not plan for it." Jonathan replied stoically. "How do I know that?" Batman retorted and Jonathan turned to look at him. "Because you killed them." He said flatly. "Jealousy is an ugly thing. Behind that suit, you're just a man. Do you think a fulfilled man would put on a fancy bat costume every night and beat up everyone who even breathes the wrong way? It doesn't require much thought. You're miserable- just like rest of us. A broken lonely man playing hero to feel better about this city and himself." Jonathan turned to Batman. "I won't let you fool yourself for even one minute. If you were as great as everyone makes out to be, (Y/N) would be alive. You're a failure, Batman and nothing you do will ever fix what you have done."

Two-Face: "I was told to count. Five things I see, four things I can touch... all of that." Harvey said flatly. "It's meant to help and keep me in there here and now. I've been so used to doing it that when they died, it was like instinct. Five things I see...Batman. The lights from the window. (Y/N) on the ground. The door outside open. Five...the city outside. Four things I can feel. My sleeves. The gun in my hand. The ground beneath me..." His voice began to tremble. "If I hadn't been wearing shoes I'd feel the pool of (Y/N)'s blood. Three, what I can smell. Gunpowder. The rain and (Y/N)'s blood. Two things I can hear...(Y/N) can't breathe. You demanding where the gunman went. One thing I can taste..." Harvey ground out, holding back his tears. "Bile." He met Batman's gaze. "The more I counted, the more it set in that (Y/N) was dying and then they just stopped. Before my very eyes the gurgling choking sound stopped, they relaxed. They're eyes didn't blink. I counted them into their death." He seethed. "Whilst you stood there and didn't so much as even look at them!" Suddenly Harv' took over. "What kind of fucking hero are you, you son of a bitch!? Huh!? What fucking good are you if the one person who mattered in this damn city died before your very eyes!? I'll fuckin' skin the bastard who shot (Y/N) but what the fuck did we do!? Nothing! You wanna call yourself a hero!?" Harvey continued. "Had you actually paid attention to the person who needed it and they might have survived! You didn't even let me hold them! You pinned me to the wall demanding to know where the bastard went!" Two-Face squeezed the gun in his hand. "It's only fair, a life for a life."

Black Mask: "You don't have to do this, Roman." Batman said. "Maybe I don't, but it's all I know how to do. Besides misery loves company." He let out a bitter laugh. "I saw my baby die. I watched the light fade from their eyes. What have you lost in all of this? Hm?" Batman didn't respond. "Exactly." Roman said icily. "They're dead because of you. You show up every fuckin' time yet you didn't when (Y/N) needed it? You did it on purpose because of me. I can sit and fuckin' cry about it but you know that's not my style. Just know what happens next, Batman, it's on you. You did this to Gotham and it will only be a fraction of what I feel." "(Y/N) wouldn't want this for you." Batman tried. "(Y/N) can't want anything. They're dead." Roman deadpanned.

Penguin: "Tell me, world's greatest detective, did you know I had a ring?" He asked. Batman stayed quiet. "Because I think you did. I think you wanted to stamp out any happiness I could have had and you know what just pisses off more? You speak of them like they were collateral damage! So you better kill me, Batman, because if you don't, I'm gonna kill you." "I did everything I could, Cobblepot." Batman said firmly. "I don't want your excuses!" Oswald yelled. "I want you dead!"

Mad Hatter: Gordon put his arms on the table between the two in the interrogation room. "How did we get here, Tetch?" He asked. Jervis lifted his gaze from his lap. A lost look in his eye. "I was beginning to feel like I could stop searching. That Alice had taken her place in (Y/N) and that meant I had found her. I had found my Alice and things in this city seemed okay. There was a little method to the madness and if I was confused it's alright because I had (Y/N). Even the Batman went away." Jervis' eyes glazed over. "Then Batman killed them and just like that, he was back. He killed them to get to me."

#batman #batman villains #batman scenarios #the riddler #scarecrow #two face #black mask #penguin #mad hatter #edward nygma #jonathan crane #harvey dent #roman sionis #oswald cobblepot #jervis tetch

[iwillberunningfromdemons]

The grip on the sword did not falter. The burning blade continued to spread its devouring flame outward, incinerating as it went. Screams filled the air.

Urdomen closed in with their short, heavy blades. Began chopping.

Thr Mortal Sword's intestines, snagged on a sword tip, unravelled like a snake from his gut. Another axe crashed down on Brukhalian's head, splitting the heavy black-iron helm, then the skull, then the man's face.

The burning sword exploded in a dark flash, the shards cutting down yet more Pannions.

The corpse that was Fener's Mortal Sword tottered upright a moment longer, riven through, almost headless, then slowly settled to its knees, back hunching, a scarecrow impaled by a dozen pikes, countless arrows.

Kneeling, now motionless, in the deepening shadow of the Thrall, as the Pannions slowly withdrew on all sides - their battle-rage gone and something silent and dreadful in its stead - staring at the hacked thing that had been Brukhalian... and at the tall, barely substantial apparition that took form directly before the Mortal Sword. A figure shrouded in black, hooded, hands hidden within the tattered folds of broad sleeves.

Hood. King of High House Death... come to greet this man's soul. In person.

Why?

A moment later and the Lord of Death was gone.

Memories of Ice, by Steven Erikson (Malazan Book of the Fallen #3)

#malazan #steven erikson #malazan book of the fallen #the malazan book of the fallen #memories of ice #book quotes #dark fantasy #dark fantasy books #epic fantasy #high fantasy #tw death #mortal sword #brukhalian #grey swords #capustan #hood #pannion seer #pannion domin

[scleracentipede]

I’m off to get more scarecrow tattoo today and it’s my art accounts first Bday today (will post properly about this in a bit)

#pj talking #can’t wait to see the designs for today session of the scarecrow sleeve #the scarecrow sleeve continues

[boxofteethrpg-blog]

To Have and To Hold Chapter 2

By the time he reached the elevator, the unease evaporated, replaced with exhaustion. A young doctor with a bad mustache nearly topped him over as he sprung from opening doors, saying, "be more careful, sir."

Barney ignored Dr. 'Selleck's' agitation, grunted, and took the lift down.

In the commissary, he paid too much and ate too little. A handful of other visitors floated at the other tables, but they were distant ghosts to him. When anyone spoke, it oscillated between muted despair and false optimism. Once he'd had his fill of brackish paste and gummy meat, Barney stared for a long time at his watered-down juice. His gaze shifted to a stray red string on his white sleeve. Where had that come from? The meaningless mystery failed to distract him for long.

The waxen nurse plucked the filament without a word. Barney's bad heart rattled about in his ribs out of fright. The frail creature grinned at him and winked. She tilted away and rolled the crimson strand into a small ball between her fingertips. She wrinkled her nose at the wad as one might a booger and spoke, "you love her very much, your wife?"

After a long breath wallowing in guilt, Barney answered, "yes."

"Sometimes that devotion transcends everything, doesn't it?" Without invitation, she rested her slight backside on the edge of the table. If the other patrons were specters, then her presence exorcized them completely from the senior's senses, "even morality."

"It's what she would have wanted," his answer sounded as pathetic as he felt.

"Every good woman just wants to eternity with her lover," she countered without malice. "I know I would give anything."

"I would take just one more real day with her right now."

The unfamiliar stretched the red string tightly, like it was some disembodied vein, then let it drop to the floor. The woman eased to her feet, saying, "If you would pardon me, Mr. Schell, I must check in with my employer. Your wife is waiting for you."

Without lingering for a response, the ashen attendant strode away. Her path didn't take her back to the lift, but to an ajar emergency door instead. She nodded to the dark figure holding the door open for her from the outside. Together they looked positively cadaverous in the gloom of the growing gale. The man pointedly looked back at Barney while allowing the nameless nurse to pass. The shadows clung to his face in the most peculiar way. It took a moment for Barney to realize he was wearing a carnival mask.

The old man blinked. His exhausted senses must be playing tricks on him. That didn't make any damn sense. He couldn't double-check, though, as the door shut with a clunk.

Barney trembled. He knew not why, but he did. Whoever that man was, he didn't fit into his view of reality. Worry poisoned his mind. Had the pale even a nurse? Barney had never met her before; she hadn't been wearing a name tag. Had she done something terrible to Estelle? Several minutes were wasted away as he struggled to his feet, trudged to the elevator, ascended, and then made his way back to Estelle's room.

"My throat aches," his wife said as he entered, "did you bring me anything back, Barney? The nurse said you were getting food."

The old man would have collapsed if not for his walker. He tried to speak but barely managed to breathe. Caressed by the last tendrils of sunlight outside, the scarecrow-like woman studied the clutch of phlegm-glossed tubes in hand. Her sharp nose wrinkled the same way it did whenever she saw road kill.

"They hurt to take out," Estelle said as she tossed the bundle aside and cleared her throat. She wormed a hand through her tangle of cobweb tresses and continued, "and my hair is a mess. I'm sorry I've let myself go, baby. You know how it's been."

"Estelle!" Elation raced through the old-timer's veins, but it was chased with irrational dread. He said, "Estelle?"

"Yes?" She asked. The blue-checked hospital gown clung to the angles of her hollowed frame when she turned to him. Fresh light burned in her eyes, sizzled with youthful energy neither of them enjoyed for at least two decades. Her chapped lips curved upwards as she said, "I'm fine, silly. Everything is going to be alright."

"I... you. You can't..."

"But I am," she said, waving waved off his confusion in that matter-of-fact manner Estelle always did. Concern crept over her wizened face as he continued to stammer in the doorway. The birds went silent in the face of driving rain. Storm clouds slowly swallowed the sun.

"I'm fine. Here, let me prove it," Estelle said, plucking monitoring wires from her arm.

Immediately the machines that loitered about her bed like patient buzzards screamed. Feet thundered down the hallway. Barney couldn't move even as someone drew up behind him. A huff of annoyed breath permeated his stooped shoulders. He fixated on Estelle's foreboding smile and wondered if this was a miracle or the opposite.

#horror #short story #horror short story #supernatural horror #horror story #horror fiction #crimson threads

[ashleymichaelday]

Scarecrows 

by

Ashley Michael Day 

  Hassan had paid good money to be in the boot of this car. He considered himself extremely fortunate as he felt each lurch inside the dark, cramped, trunk, as it rocked back and forth. He was no longer on the smooth tarmac of a maintained road, Hassan guessed his smugglers were driving along a dirt track. He could feel every pothole as he bounced around within his claustrophobic compartment like a ball bearing in a pinball machine. Nevertheless he was excited! 

  He had saved a fortune to work in the United Kingdom. The human traffickers had demanded that he paid £1000 in advance for the privilege. They promised to sneak him into the country and take him to the farm he would be working at. It sounded idyllic. Working in the fields. Given a place to stay. A good wage to send home. The traffickers had said:

  "You'll love it, my friend. The people I've sent there never leave. You should be snatching this offer with both hands! Others would sell their souls for an opportunity like this!"    

  Hassan had bid his family farewell, promising to call once he'd settled in Great Britain. Assuring his parents that as soon as he had earned his first wage packet, he would wire the money home. Tears and hugs were exchanged, but it would only be for a short while. Soon he'd be home again. Hassan paid £500 up front to the smugglers and said he would pay the rest once he'd arrived at the farm. 

  He would be glad to arrive. His body was stiff from being tucked inside that boot. Listening to the continuous din of rain hitting off the car like a steel drum. He could hardly breathe. The smell of exhaust fumes and his recycled air was nauseating. The only luxury items he'd been given to sustain him was a plastic bottle of water and a packet of sweet chilli potato chips. Nearly bent in two like a pocket knife, Hassan didn't know how it could get any worse? 

  The car's brakes squealed to a halt. The tires skidding on gravel. Hassan lay on his side, waiting in the dark. He hated being in small spaces. He had always had a fear of being buried alive. Trapped inside a coffin. He had heard stories where people had been misdiagnosed as being dead. He attempted to close his eyes and block out the thought. The whole trip he had feared that they might have an accident and there would be nothing he could do! Desperately scratching at the steel until his nails were torn out of their roots. 

  Stop it, it's just your imagination. Everything is fine. 

  He hummed as he listened to the purr of the engine. As he lay there waiting, trying to take his mind off his current predicament, a sudden doubt flashed in his mind.

  What if they were not going to England? They could be anywhere! 

  After all, they could be lying?... 

  He had given them £500 already, and they knew he was carrying another £500! Nothing preventing them from driving him out into the middle of some woods and forcing him to dig his own grave? 

  The car door opened. Hassan, listening intently, over the warning chime of the car. Someone inside the car has removed their seat belt. 

  We must be here. But where's here? The farm? Or deep in the woods with a shallow grave awaiting? 

  The crunching sound of a heavy foot on gravel matched the groan of the car's suspension. Hassan felt the car lift slightly as a heavy weight climbed out of the vehicle. Nervous, Hassan listened as footsteps circled around the car to its rear. Hassan's mouth suddenly went bone dry as he awaited the verdict…

  A bright light blinded him as the boot was opened. The deluge of pouring rain stabbed at his face with icy stings. He squinted as his eyes adjusted. A rough hand grabbed a sleeve on his body warmer and yanked him up off his back. 

  'Out.'

  As Hassan's vision improved, he realised he wasn't surrounded by trees. He could smell the harsh aroma of dung and fertiliser. In the bright amber haze of the security lights he could see the corrugated iron out houses, the circular bales of hay, and heavy machinery. It was a farm. Beyond that, he could see the night sky, blanketed with stars. An empty void that surrounded them. Far from civilization. No one for miles. 

  'Out,' the gruff voice repeated.

  Hassan stumbled out of the car boot on unsteady legs. His feet squelched in boggy mud and manure. Pins and needles were biting into his calf muscles. He rubbed at them, endeavouring to encourage the circulation of blood back into his legs. As Hassan kneaded his weary muscles through his denim jeans, he paused to hear the distant hoot of a barn owl. But beyond that cry of the prowling nocturnal hunter, Hassan thought he heard something else? A muffled cry coming from somewhere out in the darkness…

  'You pay now,' the driver barked. 

  'Where the boss?' 

  'You pay me.'

  'Not till I see boss,' Hassan demanded. 

  The driver reached down to his shirt tail and lifted it up to reveal the knife tucked into his waistband. 

  'No - you pay me or I stick you.'

  Hassan raised his hands in surrender, but froze expecting to feel the cold bite of steel from the knife's blade. 

  'Hello there!' 

  It was a booming voice. A jovial voice. A British voice. 

  The driver dropped his shirt and replied back, 'Delivery!'

  'I thought it was,' the friendly voice replied. The man approached them, 'Marvellous! Absolutely marvellous!' A bulky, elderly man carrying an umbrella came into view. He was wearing a dark green waxed coat and shabby cardigan. He had a white beard and grizzled grey hair that was receding revealing a shiny scalp. He had rosey cheeks that seemed more weathered than due to humour. It also accounted for the speckles of broken blood vessels in his face. 

  'Pay now!' the driver hissed at Hassan whilst casting a weary glance at the elderly man who drew closer. 

  Hassan, satisfied that he was no longer in danger, took out a wad of cash and handed it to the driver. The human trafficker snatched the money away and briskly walked back to his vehicle. 

  'Oh,' the old man exclaimed, 'are you sure you don't want to stay? It's a filthy night. Why don't you come in for a stiff drink to keep out the cold?' 

  The driver shook his head and hurried inside his car.

  'No matter,' the farmer shrugged, 'plenty more for us. Come with me. I've got just the thing.' The farmer steered Hassan towards the warm and welcoming farmhouse. But something was making Hassan ill at ease. It wasn't the uncomfortable journey, or the isolated location, nor was it the over familiar farmer with his arm around his shoulders. What unsettled Hassan was the look of fear in the eyes of the armed driver when he climbed into his vehicle. That look of horror had turned Hassan's arms to goosebumps, as he watched the only car for miles speed away… 

  'The name is Higgins, by the way,' the farmer explained as he led him to the farmhouse, 'Farmer Higgins, but you can call me Billy. Do you speak much English?' 

  Hassan nodded. In the pitch black of night, the golden glow from the doorway was like a beacon of comfort. He imagined the farm was like a single speck of white on a vast canvas of black. The dim haze from the security lights mounted on the ruddy brick walls of the farmhouse revealed that it was an old building. Once, a chocolate box picture of old England. A place that Hassan had always imagined from old landscape portraits of the English countryside. But the building showed signs of neglect and disrepair. Slate tiles had left a hole in the roof, the windows were filthy, and patches of brickwork were crumbling. 

  'Are you looking forward to working here?' 

  'Yes. I look forward to working in your country's air.' 

  'Good! Well, get yourself in, get yourself in,' Higgins laughed, pushing Hassan firmly through the kitchen door. 

  Wrak! Wrak! 

  Hassan jumped at the loud squawks coming from the crow fluttering in its cage. The cage was hanging next to the door frame, rocking to and fro. Hassan could see himself mirrored in the bird's glassy onyx eye as it blinked at him. 

  Wrak! 

  'Alright my lover? Come in,' a woman's voice beckoned, 'don't you mind Seamus, he is a cranky old devil.' The woman was a similar age to Higgins. Hassan assumed she was his wife. 

  'Better than any guard dog,' her husband insisted with a hearty laugh that she matched. 

  The elderly lady was sitting in an old rocking chair tucked behind the kitchen table in the far corner of the room. She was sewing up scraps of tea coloured sacking. She was a stout woman with a similar complexion to her husband. Her hair was short, with tight white curls, like a sheep's fleece. Hassan thought she looked hardy, like she had toiled the land with her husband as equals. Similar to the families from his village. A real family farm. 

  'Have you eaten dear?' 

  Hassan shook his head. 

  'Bill, fix the man a plate. Make him a ploughman's lunch, you'll enjoy it, dear. It's good, traditional, country food. Pork pie, cheese, pickle onions, and some lovely crusty bread I only baked this morning.'

  'Er, thank you, yes,' he replied, standing awkwardly in the kitchen. The ceiling was too low and was causing him to stoop. He didn't really feel like eating but thought it rude to refuse. It wasn't because he wasn't hungry, but it was due to the room itself. As soon as he had walked into it Hassan was hit by an unpleasant smell of wet dog hair that was making him want to gag. He kept his mouth tightly closed and silently gulped air in an effort not to retch. The room was claustrophobic. Filled from the floor to the rafters with knick-knacks; ghastly porcelain ornaments that were chipped, mismatched, and dirty. Stuffed dead birds and critters littered the sideboards and bookcases, covered in dust. Pots and pans were scattered around the room capturing rain drops leaking through the stained ceiling.

  'Sit you down,' the Farmer's wife said merrily, 'sit you down.' She patted a chair in front of her at the kitchen table. Hassan sat down at the table with his back to her. He watched Farmer Higgins fix his dish. 

  'My wife's a dab hand with a needle and thread.'

  'Practice makes perfect,' she said, as she pulled a hooked needle out through the bundle of rags she was sewing. It looked like she was stitching old mail bags. 

  'What do you think?' the farmer asked, pointing out framed needle works hanging on the walls. 

  'Okay.' Hassan uttered, not due to any language barrier, but because he couldn't think of anything more complementary to say on the stitched sewing by number designs. 

  'She's very talented.'

  'Mmh.'

  'We've thought about selling them to make ends meet. There's not much profit in farming nowadays, you become more and more reliant on government subsidiaries.'

  'What crops I pick, please?' 

  'What crops?' 

  'Yes.'

  'None,' the Farmer laughed, 'let me get you that drink.'

  'No pick? This er, live er, live stock farm?' 

  'No dear,' the old lady replied, shaking her head. 'We have a few chickens, but nothing like that.'

  Hassan was confused and a feeling of unease had been growing in the pit of his stomach. Something sinister in the grim malaise of this farm and its overly friendly owners. He watched as Billy Higgins poured out the drink and set it down on the table. 

  'Here you go! Drink up.'

  Hassan glanced from husband to wife in discomfort. 

  'I no thirsty.'

  'Oh, drink up my lover,' the elderly woman insisted, 'it's Damson Gin. I made it myself.'

  'No.'

  Husband and wife exchanged glances.

  A howling wind wrapped around the old farmhouse causing it to groan in the eerie silence. Hassan felt the goosebumps pucker inside his flannel shirt. 

  Farmer Higgins added a plate of cold meats beside the glass. The smell of malt vinegar from the pickled onions made Hassan screw up his mouth, holding back the urge to vomit. The clawing aroma of damp dog hair was thick in the air around him. 

  'This farm, Hassan,' Higgins declared, 'is an old fashioned wheat farm.'

  'Wheat?' 

  'Yes. See,' to demonstrate, Billy picked up an eerie looking doll made from strands of straw. The doll had been weaved together with the spear heads spread at the bottom like a flowing skirt. The doll had no features. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. It was a creepy effigy made of brittle straw. Farmer Higgins displayed it proudly, 'Gladys made this, didn't you?' 

  'I've always been crafty,' she beamed proudly. 

  'You need me to reap wheat?' 

  Both Higgins burst into laughter. The old lady cackled like a witch. 

  'No, no, no, no,' he said, returning the sinister straw doll to the sideboard. 'Got me a combine harvester for that. Big monster of a thing, cost me an arm and a leg.'

  'I drive Combine?' 

  'No me old cocker, I do that,' Higgins smiled, 'take a sip and I'll tell you what I need you to do.'

  Hassan left the drink. 

  The couple shared another glance. The jovial farmer released a long sigh. 

  'Your duties won't entail much work, but it's necessary work, and you'll earn your keep. You see our feathered friend here Hassan? Very intelligent animal! Can solve puzzles, works things out, the crow is very cunning. Back in the old days scarecrows would frighten them off. An old suit stuffed with straw would do the trick, but not now. Those devil's have seen through it. They perch on them now. Mocking them. Use them like branches. Swoop down and peck up the seeds. Very costly. You can lose a fortune due to these pests.'

  Higgins deliberately knocked the cage spooking the crow. 

  Wrak! Wrak! 

   'Drink your drink, Hassan.'

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Hassan remembered the look of fear in the driver's eyes. That wide eye glimpse of horror when invited in for a drink. 

  'No.'

  'No?' 

  'No.'

  The couple exchanged another knowing glance. Higgins stepped forward, looming over him. His smile had vanished. He glowered at Hassan. Hassan clenched his fists nervously under the table. He was confident he was a match for the old man if he decided to get rough. He had more than a few years on the old Farmer. A second or two passed before Billy offered a shrug. He then took away Hassan's glass. 

  'No matter,' he said, as he poured the Damson gin down the sink. 

  Hassan opened his mouth to ask another question, when suddenly a shroud was flung over his head! The elderly lady pulled the canvas mask tightly around his face. The fabric smelt of sickly sweet. It was making him light headed. He had reached up to fling it off his face. He clawed at Gladys, digging his nails into her fleshy arms. She was strong and increased her strain on the shroud. Hassan was finding it hard to fight back. He was dazed and was struggling to breathe. The drug coating the material was intoxicating. 

  Chloroform! It must be Chloroform! 

Hassan's hands were seized by Billy and were pulled down onto the table top. All three bucked against the kitchen table as Hassan lurched in an attempt to free himself. But soon the fight went out of him. Before he passed out, he heard the smashing of crockery as his dinner plate hit the stone floor, then all faded into darkness… 

  Hassan awoke from his dizzy vortex of unconsciousness. He sensed he was outside. His body trembled uncontrollably. He could feel the grating cold air against his cheek. Hassan shivered but was unable to move. He couldn't work it out. He felt paralysed, but when he attempted to move his shoulders hurt. 

  His head felt like it was filled with treacle, his tongue was thick and furry. He tried to rid the horrid taste in his mouth, but something prevented him from doing this. He endeavoured to lick his lips, but they were sealed and stung. He ran his tongue along the inside of his sore mouth and discovered a criss-cross stitch inside. Thick, coarse, thread had been used to stitch his mouth tightly shut. He murmured in pain as he slowly squinted. 

  It was a grey and dreary morning. He was in the middle of a wheat field towering over the grain. It was chilly, and as he breathed out through his nose, small clouds of vapour wafted up into the autumn sky. As another icy gust caused Hassan to shiver, he dreamily watched the tall stems of wheat rippled with the breeze. A faint mist was drifting around him like smoke. 

  As he attempted to move again he felt the same pain in his shoulder. Glancing to his left, Hassan could see that he had been tethered to a crucifix with razor wire. The small sharp blades had shredded through his thick flannel shirt. Blood had seeped into the fabric. As he pulled, the wire tightened, biting deeper into his shoulder causing him to sob. 

  Wincing in pain, he turned to face the front, trying to work out what he was going to do? His bare feet were so numb and ashen with the cold, he hardly felt the long, rusty nails protruding out of them. Trickles of blood ran down to his toes. The blood weeped a fresh as he attempted to shuffle his feet upon the narrow ledge he had been nailed to. 

  He raised his head and looked out upon the panoramic view of the sweeping hills and deserted fields. It dawned upon Hassan how hopeless his plight was. Afterall, he was marooned in the middle of nowhere. He wept in muffled silence as the mist began to clear…As the mist faded, Hassan could see more crosses scattered all around him. Some near, some far. They were darted all over, twitching and moaning. One of these scarecrows was only a few feet before him. 

  Wrak! Wrak! 

  This scarecrow was whimpering in distress. Crows had settled upon the crucifixes' cross beams. The wicked looking birds were hopping closer to the weary figure. Hassan could see it was a man. The prostrate figure was exhausted. He could hardly stand. Hassan heard him muffle through his stitched gag. A row of exes across his lips. The limp figure meekly flapped his hands in an attempt to shoo the bird. The crow flinched slightly. But as the seconds passed the bird got more brazen and pecked at the man's hand. 

  'Wakey, wakey!' 

  The crow flew away at the jovial greeting. 

  Hassan glanced down from his cross at Farmer Higgins who was standing below him. The farmer was smiling pleasantly with a double barrel shotgun broken over his arm. 

  'Originally, I would use that wire on the wrists, but your predecessors would use it to slit theirs. Horrible really. Such a waste. A man can't afford to waste money on replacing workers. The shoulder is much safer, it takes a lot longer to kill from blood loss.'

  He smiled up at Hassan. 

  'I'd hate for you to take this personally, me old cocker. It's only business. Like I said, "Those devil's have seen through it." I can't afford to lose my crop to those cunning crows. That's why I need men like you Hassan to scare them off for me.'

  'Mmh,' grimaced Hassan, attempting to argue. 

  'I know, I know, it would be easier for you to do your job if you could talk. I do sympathise. But we can get the occasional nosey rambler from time to time. It happened once and it got very ugly indeed, so that's why we've got to do that to you. I don't like it, just as much as you don't, but Gladys does a good job! That stitching is lovely and neat, if I do say so myself.'

  Angry, he wanted to snarl at his captor, but the painful strain on his lips prevented him. 

 'I know you're disappointed,' Higgins empathised, 'but needs must, I can't afford one of those contraptions that fire blanks that spook the birds. This was a much more economical solution. Times are hard, Hassan, especially for us farmers.'

  Farmer Higgins shook his head as he started to load his shotgun. Hassan's eyes widened with alarm. His muffled protests fell on deaf ears. 

 'No one can afford to be carried, not anymore. If they're not able to contribute then they're dead wood that needs to be cast away.'

  The old man closed the gun, turned, made aim and fired both barrels into the scarecrow opposite him. 

  BOOM! 

  A fine cloud of blood evaporated with the lingering wisps of mist. The frail body drooping forward, empty of whatever life was left. Tears streamed down Hassan's cheeks as Higgins pulled out the two smoking cartridges and pocketed them.

  'I have a machine that reloads these with pellets. Over the years you save an absolute fortune.'

Beep! Beep! 

  Hassan raised his head to see a car was racing up the dirt track towards the farm. 

  'Oh good! Replacements! Perfect timing, wouldn't you say?' The Farmer beamed at Hassan whose face was streaked with tears. 'Cheer up, my friend,' Higgins smiled, 'You were looking forward to enjoying our country's air…Hello!' 

  Hassan through bleary eyes watched the old man walk towards his farm waving towards the car. 

  'I'll be right with you! Marvellous! Absolutely marvellous!  Come into the house, I'll fix you a drink.'

  As Hassan turned away with a heart filled with despair, he saw his future lashed to a cross, covered in crows, pecking at the cooling flesh. 

#short story #books & libraries #art #culture #short stories #Horror #Thriller #action #thriller #horror #scarecrow #literature #stories #story #reading

[myers-meadow]

Michael Myers x reader: wrapped with a ribbon

Title: Wrapped with a ribbon

Word count: 1752

Warning and contents: Michael Myers x female reader. I think it works for most of his versions. This is 18 +, please don't interact if you're a minor. Themes of stalking, (dub-con?), light bondage, voyeurism and exhibitionism. Reader doesn't speak.

Summary: You move into a new place, it is peaceful, but perhaps the lack of neighbours makes you a prime target for something- someone who can't wait to get his hands on you.

Feedback is welcome! Don't forget to let me know you enjoyed it, if you did <33

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

The new apartment had large windows, and looked out over a beautiful bit over nature. At first the size of the windows unnerved you, being more used to life closer to other people. But there was no one there to look inside. Very rarely did people pass by the side of the house that had your bedroom and bathroom, and even rarer that they looked up to spare a glance inside. So it became a small, everyday joy. Each morning you brushed your hair sitting in the window sill, accompanied by the songs of birds, and sunlight streamed in as you showered. Every evening was the same, and it became a habit to look at the moon if she was there. Once you even saw a fox, and a few times there were hedgehogs rooting around in the bushes. The next day, you remembered to leave out small saucers of water for them.

The first time you saw him was during one of those long summer nights, months after you moved in and had established a routine. ‘He’ was a strong word, as at that point it was just a flash of a white mask. It was on one of the nights you danced through the bedroom, restless yet free, just something to do to relax before bed. To release all the tension in your shoulders and back, to stretch all limbs felt amazing. Just a flash of white that you forgot before you even drifted off to sleep. Dreams were filled with thoughts of summer fruits and so summer yielded for autumn.

A few days later you saw the flash of white again, looked closer, stopped your movements, and leaned out the window. The figure stood motionless by the treeline. It was a human. Or human-shaped. Perhaps a prank, or a stoic scarecrow from the neighbours. After naïvely deciding he was no threat, just a prank with Halloween coming up, your evening routines continued as they always had. Besides, if it truly was a person, of what interest could you be?

.

One night, it was late, but sleep posed great difficulty. With a lack of better methods to get to sleep, you clicked on the small lamp on your nightstand and opened the window for fresh air, curtains still half-closed. It was cold and smelled of moss and fertile earth. There was no moon, causing the backyard to be hidden under the veil of complete darkness. It was nicer by the window. The breeze was pleasant on your skin, it seemed to clear your mind. Truthfully, life was stressful, and there were a lot of things pent up inside. It felt like the day didn’t allow enough time to vent or dance or move outside the rigid expectations put on you. As on many summer nights before, you sat down on the wide windowsill, legs bare, just a thin, airy robe with wide sleeves on, loosely tied around the waist, and breathed deep. Your nipples hardened from the cold, and it reminded you; how long ago was it that you had last touched yourself? The coldness of the wood underneath you was a pleasant change to the stuffy, soft mattress and the beginnings of a tingle of arousal were already in your mind. It was easy; to quiet the mind by stimulating the body. It wasn’t the first time you did it like this, at night, overlooking the garden or basking in the moonlight that was absent that night. A few scenarios came and went in your head, and you leaned back, one leg propped up, the other dangling off the edge. Gentle fingers found your vulva. Always your own, and you sighed, both from the feeling and of the thought of lacking a partner. Just like being tickled, it was always different when it was with someone else. You steadied your mind, conjured up ideas that made you yearn and tingle, and not long after, fingers glid through your folds smoothly. Back and forth, habitual movements.

A creak outside caught your attention, your eyes snapped open – when had you let them close? – and you stare into the darkness beyond your window. Nothing is there. A bird, or a mouse, or a hedgehog, or a cat, who knows. Another breeze hitting your skin through your thin robe brought attention back to your body. What if someone was watching? Something so personal, so intimate to witness. Would it arouse them too? A hint of fear at being discovered only incited your arousal further.

.

When Michael saw you like that, something in him lost control. Normally a man of immense patience, he no longer remembered what he was so patient for. What if he could have it now? Could feel you now? And so he stalked over to your door, unseen through the dark. The door was locked, but the key was by the bird house, he saw you put it there when you just moved in. Too easy, he thought, too easy for prey, but it fit him perfectly. All of this could be an invitation, just for him. You had seen him, had looked right at him, but not with fear or disgust or insults on your tongue. You had simply seen him, and he saw you. Saw what you wanted, or perhaps what he could give you. The way through your home was easy – there was only one light on, and however small, it shone from under the door. He let himself in, silently.

Through the gap of the door he admired you, savouring the moment. Head resting against the wall, perfectly framed by the rectangular window. Prettier than a picture. Just for him. His knife stayed in his pocket.

.

The moment you noticed him, it all went quickly. He had you against the wall, hand around your throat, other catching your wrists. Your cries fell upon deaf ears, the glint of a knife was enough to shut you up for a moment. Looking into the mask was frightening, his eyes were voids, but you felt the intensity of his gaze. When his hand left your throat, it instead found the ribbon that tied your robe together. The man pulled it through the loops until the garment swished around your nude form, swaying in the breeze. You were permitted the gasps and the whimpers that left your lips as he tied your hands with the ribbon, before pulling the end up and fastened it on the curtain rail. This position stretched your body. His dark eyes trailed appreciatively over your form, but he stepped backwards until his knees hit the bed. Tugging at the ribbon amounted to nothing but the sting of the edge on the tender skin. The knife landed on the covers and the stranger dropped himself next to it. Confusion grew in you. The absurdity of this happening was overwhelming, and only when your tongue darted out to the corner of your mouth, did you notice you were crying – from shock. The arousal that you awakened in yourself at the thought of someone watching you, kept licking like hot flames at your core. It made the tall, masked stranger in your home even more nightmarish.

With slow hands and eyes that seemed to stare right into the depths of your soul, he unzipped his coveralls to reveal his chest. He wrestled his arms out and let the fabric drop around him. He was big, not just tall, but broad, and his muscles rippled beneath a pleasant layer of softness. Then, spreading his legs, his hand moved over his stomach, down, in between those tree trunk thighs. What he found there and pulled into sight made your heart hammer against your chest. You struggled against the ribbon, marks already forming. His cock was hard and thick. Had he been watching you from outside? Did that mean that- that you turned him on? That thought was overwhelming all on its own.

The stranger fisted himself once, looking pointedly at you, before leaning back on his elbows. The view from where you stood, body tense, arms getting cold from the breeze, was damn near perfect. His gaze never left you, you were inescapably aware that he watched you, and that his cock was in his hand. Slowly he stroked himself, allowing his hips to buck when he reached the head. Even in the dim light his curly, blond hair was visible, and it lead up to his naval in a kissable stripe. The muscles in his abdomen flexed and relaxed in turn with his shuddering breaths. The sounds of his gasps and low moans were amplified by the mask and the utter silence of your room. Even just listening to him made you rub your thighs together from the tingles it sent to your abdomen. His hand sped up. What was he thinking? Was he getting off to the sight of you, all tied up, almost nude, a sight just for him?

Once again you struggled and felt the lack of touch and the emptiness more than ever. Soon your own pants, soft, sharp intakes of breath that you were holding without notice, joined his in a duet of desire. It seemed to last an eternity to see him in front of you, on your bed as if he belonged there, an eternity that you needed to end and to never end. He sat up then, hips stuttering and bucking wildly to meet his hand. With a last, heady, lingering moan, he came. The sight of it made your mouth water. Sticky cum landed on his chest, hand, coveralls, some even on your covers. Disappointed he completed his venture without you, you slumped in the bindings with a sigh.

The stranger stood, movements relaxed, like a cat that stretched after lazing in the sun for hours, and walked to you. His coveralls fell to his ankles, but he kicked them off without a second thought. Once he reached you, towering over you, he held his cum-covered hand up to your lips. You didn’t need to be prompted. It was salty and sticky on your tongue, parting with his skin reluctantly. You sighed again, twisting in the bindings, thinking it was over when you had licked the last of it from his knuckles. He slid his hand up over your arm, and untied the ribbon. Rubbing the rawness of the wrists away, it occurred to you that something jutted against your abdomen, letting you know the night was far from over.

#michael myers x female reader #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #halloween 2007 #rz!michael myers #rz halloween #michael myers fic #michael myers #michael myers x reader #my writing #halloween #rz michael myers x reader #halloween fanfic #slashers #slasher community #mute reader

[ragingbookdragon]

The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can��t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

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[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters And Men

(Season 2)

Chapter 3 - What Is Lost

Summery: With Ciri's training your main focus for the time being, you try your best to help her gain needed confidence within herself to become something great. While aiding Geralt in this strange new world of taking care of someone other then yourself.

Warning: blood, fluff, slight smutish mention

Word count: 8893

Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men Masterlist here

Walking across the courtyard of Kaer Morhen does your gaze find Ciri hacking at a scarecrow looking dummy. She gives it her all as she does her absolute best to complete the required technique that Geralt had shown her to use. Suddenly the sword falls from her grasp and onto the ground as she huffs and snatches it right back up again.

Your eyes shift over to Geralt who's seated on a wooden bench a couple feet away. Smirking mischievously to yourself do you find your place standing next to him soon enough, "Didn't know you were so crafty." You tease as he looks up from his materials seated upon his left knee.

"Y/N." He says in a playfully threatening manner, knowing all too well about how you love to mess with him in any way possible.

You just take a piece of his long white hair to twirl absentmindedly around your finger while you watch him create his new armor, "Say, I believe there are a couple far more interesting and productive things you could be doing other then this."

He looks up to your beautiful face already looking down at him, he raises an intrigued brow, "What do you have in mind?"

"Oh this and that."

"Hmm."

You tug on the lock of hair before tilting his chin up with your two fingers, "I think we let the poor girl rest for the evening and we...me and you, can have some time together. Alone." You add with a halfheartedly stern look, "None of your damn brothers trying to bother us, not Ciri, not Vesemir...just me and you. What do you say to that?"

"I'd say it's a little cold to be taking our clothes off."

You shake your head at this, "Only our pants."

"Just our pants? That sort of defeats the purpose of making love."

"Not really. We both get to feel good and see each other's face, it's a good deal."

"I like seeing all of you." Stupid face of his smiling at you like that.

"Then take your clothes off. Obviously not right here right now, but you know...later."

Geralt glances over at Ciri who's none the wiser to this interesting conversation you and him are currently having. "It's kind of cold in our room, our blankets are limited."

"You're out here in pants and one top, might I add, with the sleeves rolled up as well. Do you actually ever feel the cold or have you been deceiving me this whole time? Or maybe, maybe you just don't want to fuc..."

"I do." He says quickly, giving you a knowing look that means business, "I do. But I don't want to speak of this right here."

You glance at Ciri, "She can't hear us."

He sighs, "Fine. Tonight after dinner is had." He removes your hand from his chin to kiss it gently in his hand, "Then I am all yours."

Breaking out into a satisfied grin do you wiggle your brows at him, "All mine? Oh, Geralt I think I'll also be all yours, if you'll let me." You're such a saucy thing sometimes, you and your damn flirting, thinks Geralt.

"You know I will." He muses with a half smile upon his lips you'd like so much to kiss. However the sounds of Ciri's hacking at the straw dummy sort of kills the mood. You turn an inquiring brow at the steadfast girl hitting her sword against the man of twigs, straw, and worn out leather armor.

She swings at it in a calculated motion over and over again until the wooden sword flies from her grasp and onto the snowy ground it goes, "Shit." She lets slip in an irritated tone, hand reaching down to pick up the fallen weapon before assaulting the straw dummy once again.

"That's enough. We'll start fresh tomorrow." Says Geralt as he stands, left hand holding a dark piece of armor he'd previously been working on.

"No, I can do it." She protests while continuing to hit and smack and thwack. He walks over to where she stands when the wooden sword slips from her grasp yet again. This time when she reaches down to grab it does Geralt's boot press the weapon into the ground so she cannot pick it up.

Her dirt smudged face looks from the sword to the boot and then up to him, defiantly as ever, he looks down at her fondly, "You need rest." He leans down to pick up the sword, "Anything else will have diminishing returns." Walking away from her do you wander over to his side as Ciri watches, not wanting her training to end.

"Sir Lazlo, he protected me in Cintra, and he said less then perfect means death." You both turn, giving the attention she never asked for yet you're curious about her reasoning to keep at it with the straw man. Less then perfect means death. She's willful and fierce you'll giver her that much, however she is growing slow from fatigue even if she's unaware.

You raise a brow, "Your stomach's growling loud enough to wake the dead, if that counts." She purses her lips together and starts walking as both yourself and Geralt turn away.

"Hunger makes for good sauce."

"Also makes for shitty lunges." Adds Geralt as Ciri swiftly snatches the wooden sword from his hand. You conceal your amusement when all of a sudden does her expression shift to a deeply unsettled one like she's just seen something alarming. You can feel the abrupt change in her mood that has yourself turning to where she stands, almost bewitched in a way.

"Ciri?" Her enchanting blue-green eyes look up at you from out of the trance, expression still a bit disquieted, you take a step towards her, "You are safe here. I swear this to you, okay the leshy shit was an unfortunate exception but I protected you then. I will protect you now, as will Geralt."

Her frown is apparent upon her thin face as Geralt stands by your side, "Was it the Black Knight again?"

"No." She whispers quickly.

"If he's still haunting you.."

She begins to walk forward, "Who's turn is it for lunch?" And away she goes, clearly not up for a little chat about her weird dreams and inner turmoil's that you know for a fact are still bothering her. She survived the destruction of her kingdom and all that she held dear, you don't expect her to just shove it all in the past. Things like such tend to arise without warning, it is only natural after all.

Geralt's golden eyes are you as you watch Ciri walk across the snow and into a doorway she goes, you don't even look at him, "I know."

"If she would only.."

You turn to face him now, "We're lucky she told us about the Black Knight, I know you want to help her as much as I do. But she's still afraid, give her time to open up completely alright? When she's ready."

"I don't want her to hold it all in."

"I know you don't. Neither do I, but I have a feeling whatever comes to her at random isn't just flashes of that night in Cintra."

Geralt looks puzzled by this, "What do you mean?"

"Well isn't it obvious?" You ask him though his confusion doesn't falter, "Ciri's special, and not just in the, 'a pretty little princess with an intriguing eye color', type of special. She's a princess with a magical mother who died under mysterious circumstance, who's now daughter that's in our care has probably inherited something of the like. Remember Geralt, I was there too at that banquet, I saw what Pavetta did and I see the same eyes in her that I see in Ciri now. That girl has something in her that is so incredible, I can feel it whenever she is near me...since the very start."

He sighs, "I just wish she would talk to us about, about whatever she's feeling. I want to help her Y/N, I don't want her to be afraid."

You reach your hand out, taking his do you smile at him fondly, "Let her find it in herself first. If she asks, we'll answer. Now come you old wolf, let's get something to eat or maybe I'll have to take a chunk out of you first."

He chuckles as you nod for him to start walking towards the door, "You'd like that." He muses.

"Maybe I would." You retort, "I think it best we never get to that point though, I happen to like your body despite how pale you are."

He glances at you questioningly, "I'm not that pale."

"When the full moons out and you're under it can I practically see you glow in the darkness. It's quite a talent actually I'm very impressed, not many people I know who can do that. And you're not even a mage.."

"Alright, how's the hand Y/N?"

You narrow your eyes at him, "What are you implying?"

He smirks while looking away, "Nothing. Nothing at all, it's just I can touch silver without it giving me burns. Looks like you saved yourself from falling all the way into a fire, never had known you to be so clumsy."

Touching the faded white wrapping of your hand do you glare at him, "Keep talking Witcher, I'll put a rat in your bed, a dead one!" You cackle as he grins with a shake of his head, "I'll make sure it's a couple days old too, all gross and smelling of death, a bit of bone showing. Rub it all over your pillow too."

"Detailed. Very nice Y/N."

"Yes I know, I like to plan things thoroughly, meticulously, it's the best scare tactic of all."

"And why do I feel as though you have thought of this before?" He asks while walking through the doorway just as you do the same.

Walking down the hallway do you shrug, "There was a time, just once when I felt I needed to do this to someone."

"Uh huh."

"What? He was a real dickhead!" You protest as he listens in for an answer, you roll your eyes at him, "Alright, so some lords son who was giving me more conversation then I was looking for wouldn't shut up about his prejudices towards the elves and he was handsome in his own right, listen it was before we knew each other and I was looking for a good time. Anyways, he wouldn't stop yapping like a farm dog about it so that night I made him fall asleep and I found a rat and well. I did what I did."

"You are....something else." Says Geralt slowly.

"I know, I know. Not my most classy thing I've ever done but he deserved it. Handsome bastard with a sour voice and even more venomous thoughts. For the elves, and my kin, I think he was against them too I can't remember I may have been a bit off."

He raise a brow at this, "You drank?"

"Yes, I did..." He gives you a look as you give him a gentle shove in return, "What? It was his grandfather's funeral I couldn't just not."

"You got drunk at a man's funeral and wanted to sleep with his grandson?"

"Well not after all the shit about elves and vampires." You counter as he chuckles, "I wasn't gonna put up with that fuckery at all, though now since I think about it I might have been the reason for his illness the week after."

"No please continue."

You nervously laugh, "Uh, well um...I was only there to look after a mage for starters....and he uh.. started to get really sick and uh well I chose to leave soon after he began coughing up blood."

"Y/N." Says Geralt like a disappointedly surprised mother.

You simply shrug, "Forces beyond myself made that happen I swear." You snicker at his perplexed reaction before jogging up a flight of stairs and then another until at last have you both made it to the front doors of the evening all just as Ciri has arrived to push one of the doors open.

She walks down the few steps as you follow a short distance behind, Geralt shutting the door closed as you pick up the last part of Coen and Lambert's conversation, "What do you call a Witcher with no brains?" Asks Coen as Lambert sits across from him.

"Lambert." Quips Ciri as she saunters past them headed for the metal fire pit with a cauldron of soup hanging from the side.

Coen laughs, "Okay, now she's funny."

You smirk at their foolery, paying them no mind as you walk towards the cauldron and table of bowls and spoons standing right next to it as other Witchers eat from their tables opposite of Coen and Lambert. Geralt trailing behind you as you eye up the wonderfully smelling soup, still hot much to your gratefulness.

When you reach the table has Ciri gotten her bowl, you take in the sight before you, "Oh lovely, brown water with some flavoring originated inside a hundred year old bottle of old herbs." You jest, picking up a bowl anyways, "I can only guess who's turn it was this time." You glance over at Lambert who's none the wiser.

Moving to the side does Geralt take a bowl, "When you finish this, get some rest." He advises Ciri who looks up from her soup like she'd rather do anything else then that. He gives her a stern look, "Ciri."

Still appearing less then thrilled does she take her wooden sword off the table before turning around and walking out the doorless entranceway out of the evening hall. Not a single word spoken from her lips, you pick up a spoon to distract yourself from laughing. Poor Geralt's trying his best.

"Trouble with the pretty, pretty princess?" Teases Lambert in a less joking tone then you'd like, he straddles the bench to look at him easier from across the room.

"Leave it alone." Warns Coen, seated across from him. Oh you are not about to get into the middle of whatever this is.

"Why should I? He made his choice. Cost us a brother." He grumbles bitterly.

"That wasn't our brother." Says Geralt solemnly as he pours his soup, "Not by the end of it." With two bowls in hand does he turn to walk away, "And bitterness won't help us find what killed him."

"Oh, I know what killed him." He says louder as you halt in your place when Geralt stops walking.

"Leave it alone." Whispers Coen.

You can tell Geralt's conflicted yet Lambert doesn't say another word and with that does Geralt continue onward just as you follow behind. He walks through the doorway and into the long hall as you find yourself by his side, he stops again, gaze almost far away as he looks at nothing in the sunlight coming in through the glass.

Your eyes glance from the vacant hallway then back to him, "You alright?"

He purses his lips together, "Yeah."

"Liar." His brows furrow as he turns his puzzled expression to you, "You miss him. I know you do, but I won't press, go give that soup to Vesemir and I'll see if my stomach will hold this down. I'm going to feed the ravens, see you later."

"See you." Mutters Geralt as you give him a quick reassuring grin before turning to leave. ——

Sitting cross legged upon a ledge high about the half broken watchtower with an empty bowl of soup to your right and a raven to your left. Does your eyes scan out over the snow covered courtyard where Ciri happens to be hacking away at the straw dummy. Though her wooden sword does little damage, it's all in the movements.

A raven lands on your shoulder as you watch her hit the straw man in the torso over and over again. The dark eyed bird looks at you as you look at it, "Yes I know, she's a little weak on the left swing. But could you do that at her age?" The raven croaks. "Oh really? Sure, alright. You tell that to all the pretty raven ladies cause I don't think I'm impressed. What knightly old wolf bait you are."

Caw! Caw!

"Stop yelling I'm right here." Caw! It flaps its wings before nudging it's feathered head to your cheek, "What?" You suddenly hear the voice of Lambert down below as he speaks to Coen about Ciri's hacking away at straw and never doing that as a young boy in training.

Your scarlet eyes land upon her as she looks at them with great annoyance, "What did you do, then?" She retorts, challenging him.

Lambert chuckles as he looks from Coen to Ciri, "I don't think so. Some things are far too scary for little girls."

She takes a daring step forward, "I'm not little, and I'm not afraid."

"That's easy to say. But our road is a dark one." Lambert takes a step forward before pulling out his sword, "Full of dangers. Is that what you want?"

"I want to do what a Witcher does." She says defiantly, voice spitting with a tinge of frustrated anger.

Lambert laughs as he walks past her to swing his blade right through the torso of the straw man. He sheaths it back into the scabbard, eyes set to Ciri once more as he smirks with a little nod, "Come on then." He's says before walking off towards the side entrance leading to where the training course is kept. You watch them go, once on the path outside of Kaer Mornen's walls do you stand from your perch on the watchtower.

Caw!

You look at the raven still on your shoulder, "What? I want to see what happens." The black bird croaks before opening his wings and flying off to another part of the stone lined structure. You glance from the three walking down the trail to your empty soup bowl and back to them again, "I'll get that later. Time to catch some wind." You give the raven on your right a wink before bringing your feet to the edge of the towers margin. Oh how you love the wild wind in your face.

Your whole body leans away from the stone landing and quickly enough are you free falling rapidly towards the snowy earth. Immediately does your vessel disappear into a pack of bats  that squeak and flap in unison. Your many little dark bodies of fur and leather-like wings push on the air as your view of Kaer Morhen heightens. What a beautiful fortress it truly is.

You fly over the wall and a few Witchers on watch duty, across the rocky mountainside and over the path until you bring yourself lower to the earth. The two Witchers curse and jump as you fly your many bodies right past them all as Ciri on the other hand covers her head at the surprising intrusion.

"What the fuck Y/N?" Grumbles Lambert, pushing some hair back as you return to your original form right before their very eyes.

Ignoring him do you give a bewildered Ciri a little bow, "Apologies, I had not warned you I could do that."

"Yeah well what about a little warning to us?" Complains Lambert as Coen laughs, "Why'd you have to go through us huh? You almost scratched my face with your little vampiriness fuckery."

"Oh hush, probably make you a bit prettier." He looks at you like you've just offended his mother while both Ciri and Coen chuckle to themselves. You nod for them to follow, "Well come on, the sun doesn't last all day." You tease before turning to lead the way down the long path.

Ciri follows quickly after as Lambert looks at Coen rather annoyed, "I'll show her the sun."

"I can hear you!"

His face falls as Coen snickers before moving to follow you as well, "I didn't mean it." He mumbles before sauntering down the path right behind the three of you. No one says another thing the whole way to the training course until the four of you stop at the edge of the path. All eyes set to the rough looking Witcher obstacle course of wood and metal. What an ugly thing indeed.

"Try not to break a nail, princess." Mutters Lambert in a teasing manner as Ciri studies the odd contraption.

Looking at her do you nod towards the course, "Come on, let's meet her shall we?" You add with a reassuring grin before leading the three of them closer until at last is it right in front of you all. Quite intimidating if you were human faced with an old bastard of a thing like this.

Lambert walks over to a rope curled around a knob on the side, he undoes it before tugging on the rope hard, suddenly does the swaying poles begin to move back and forth rhythmically. Then the swiveling wooden blades move with the awakening gears, same goes for the small bridge as everything comes to life right before her very eyes.

He walks back over to the three of you, "Give it a try." Pushes Lambert verbally as he looks down at Ciri who's eyes have never left the moving course, "Go on."

The poles swoosh from side to side as she pauses a short moment before forcing herself to try. You know she's nervous yet Ciri is incredibly stubborn and takes a step forward. Making herself climb up the ladder to get upon the platform where the first task is held.

"Are you sure about this?" Asks Coen, side eyeing Lambert as you do the same.

"I'm just having a little fun." He muses, crossing his arms over his chest as you roll your eyes at him. Coen glances from Ciri about to take her first steps across the long thin board of wood to you.

You see his uncertainty, "She wants to become a great warrior like you two dipshits, remember? Who are we to say no?" Coen shakes his head at you while Lambert chuckles, all three of you now focusing your full attentions onto Ciri. She eyes up the three swinging poles, formulating a plan in her head, she moves cautiously and quickly across.

Yet her timing is off by too much and with that does the center pole knock her from the wooden board and straight down into the snow she goes with a breathy grunt. Laying there upon her back, coughing from getting the wind knocked out of her. Lambert takes a step forward, "Still wanna be a Witcher?" She breaths heavily, staring up at him defiantly with a mix of pained anger and frustration.

You tilt your head at her while crouching down to meet her level, "There. Use that fire in your heart and focus it on getting past the three poles. You got halfway across, that's something."

"Barely." Mutters Lambert as you swiftly stand before smacking his shoulder harder then he'd been expecting. Ciri pushes herself up as he rubs his sore muscle. You watch her do it again, falling again. She tries a third, fourth, fifth, sixth time, "That all you got, girl?" Lambert mocks as she lays upon the snowy ground in pain. Yet again.

"Come on Ciri." Says Coen, "Let's go back. You've had enough."

She huffs in frustration, pushing herself into a seated position as her greenish-blue eyes lock with your brilliant scarlet ones. Immediately she's fueled with a new found adrenaline, if a woman like you can be as badass of a warrior as she's heard and seen. She can too.

You watch as the girl rises to her feet, climbing up the wooden ladder before steadying herself on the board. Poles swoosh past as she moves swiftly across, she stops in front of the first, running through past the second and with that does she fly past the last one. Your smile grows at her achievement as Coen lets out an impressed, "Sheesh." Lambert a tad less dazzled as he only watches on.

"How is this thing still standing?" You ask as Ciri prepares herself for the wooden blades. "I'd have thought one of you would have secretly burnt it down by now."

"Believe me, we've thought about it." Muses Coen, "More then once."

All eyes are onto Ciri as she readies herself for the second task, carefully she moves but not carefully enough as one blade slices the surface of her left shoulder right open. She falls to the snow covered ground as blood flies from the wound, causing your pupils to dilate when the scent of fresh blood wafts into your nostrils instantaneously. You have to force yourself to halt at the primal hunger, swallowing, do you blink back the instinctual urge as she looks at her bloody slice in the fabric of her clothing.

"Nice try, princess." Pesters Lambert as she winces at the pain, "Admit it. You belong in a castle, not our keep."

Her dirt smudged face looks up at him, expression hard as stone that you can't help but smile. She's one obstinate lioness if you've ever seen one, she's got more fight in her then half of her kingdom's soldiers. You'd go over there and help her up but that damn tiny bit of blood is affecting you more then you'd like to admit. Damn blood, smells like absolute heaven in the air like fresh fruit just squeezed.

Instead do you cross your arms and take a step forward next to Lambert, "Now if I'd ever taken that advice, I'd be sitting in a pretty dress right now wasting my time away with fools of the court. As one princess to another, I'd say you try that again and show these dogs where you truly belong."

She purses her lips together, hands pushing up off of the snow as she sends Lambert a fiery glare. Practically stomping off towards the ladder as she decides to take your pertinent encouragement and put it into action. Your smile never falters as Lambert halfheartedly shoves you a little bit before walking back over to Coen.

"Fuck off Y/N." He grumbles as you turn to look at them.

"Come on boys, just fueling our little dragon." You muse as Ciri steadies herself before running across the shaky wooden board, through the swooshing poles and towards the turning blades she goes. Not choosing to give in anytime soon. And so it seems your words of support would do the trick as the minutes pass, soon turning into an hour as more of the Witchers arrive to see what's happening.

You stand down below with a good handful of them now, all watching intently to the show of one incredibly stubborn young girl against the Witchers training course. But as the time progresses do you start to worry for her actual health, she's undoubtedly bruised, clearly on too much adrenaline to feel a whole load of pain from that nasty cut too.

The cut crusted over in dried blood though it still seeps out a little into the fabric of her long sleeve shirt. That's gotta still sting yet she won't quit now, not when she's almost made it four fifths of the way through. "Y/N she's going to end up hurting herself." Says Lambert as you watch her run through the poles.

"She's already hurt herself. Let her do this."

"Y/N.."

"I know she has it in her." You snap, "Let her try."

He sighs before backing away, you're clearly not the only stubborn princess around Kaer Morhen either. Ciri makes it past the wooden blades, she then begins her ascent upon the planks of wood stuck into the rock wall. You hold onto your breath as she makes it halfway across before falling onto the snow. She gets up once again and charges past you all, up the ladder and atop the platform she stands.

Visibility wincing as she holds her wounded shoulder do you almost feel bad for a second. "I've told you once, and I'm not gonna say it again!" Shouts Lambert, "Stop showing off! Steady your legs. And breath, damn it! You're panting like a dying mammoth." She glances at him before racing past the swinging poles.

The Witchers cheer as you grin at her progress, she bends and moves quick past the turning blades, making it through with only a tiny cut on her cheek in the aftermath. "Stay calm, girl!" Shouts Lambert as she readies for the rock wall.

"Go on!" You add as she runs, jumping upon one of the planks sticking out of the rocks. "Well done Ciri! Now find your footing!"

She grunts when her legs push her to the next plank of wood then to the other when suddenly she slips, catching herself with both arms hugging tightly onto the wood. You old your breath as she struggles to acquire her balance once again, a few seconds go by before she's standing again. Thankfully she's able to make it all the way across and to the next platform where the moving bridge is kept.

She studies the tricky path ahead of her, an unsteady bridge, two hanging metal balls from chain, and finally the end if she's able to swing herself close enough. You watch intently as Geralt, Coen, and Vesemir find themselves as part of the audience. He glances from you to Ciri; she takes the leap and lands gracefully upon the bridge.

It swings with her abrupt movement but not enough to get her to the metal spheres, with two hands to either side of the rope can she use her momentum to swing the bridge harder. With a look of pure determination upon her face does Ciri jump, flying through the air as her hands grasp around the metal balls. The Witchers cheer louder as she swings back and forth and back and forth until at last she lets go.

Ciri lands hard upon the platforms edge where she falls off, landing roughly in the snow on her stomach. You suck in a quick breath at her pained grunt, however she slowly pushes herself up on tired arms as Geralt walks over to her. Ciri sniffs, breathing heavy as she brings herself to her knees, throwing her head to the side as she spits out a bit of blood. Luckily you've been desensitized enough with her blood being spilt today to ignore that.

Geralt makes a face as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, he stops to stand a few feet in front of her. He looks from the platform to her, "So close." Is all Geralt says while her stormy eyes look to him. She's unbelievably exhausted, a bruised and bloody mess but you can still see that unrelenting fire in her eyes. She is proud of herself underneath it all.

You walk over to them, "Well done for your first time on this bitch of a contraption. Now what do say we take a break from all this? Just for a little while."

She continues to breath heavily, swallowing does Ciri push herself up all the way to stand before you now. "Yes, just for a little while." She mutters tiredly.

You turn around and nod to the others, "Alright boys, shows over!" Your words are heard well as the handful of Witchers begin heading back to Kaer Morhen as the three of you hold back to let Ciri catch her breath. She holds her wounded arm as everyone leaves, you look at her curiously, "Stings huh?"

She shrugs, "It's not so bad."

You chuckle, "Girls are better at handling blood then most, but that was a right nasty slash you've gotten."

"Well, it did kind of hurt actually. But the pain has dulled since then, I'm just...I think I'm ready to go back now."

Geralt hums, "As would I." He turns to follow the last of his brothers trekking back down the path to the Witcher stronghold. You're right at his side as Ciri keeps a few feet behind you two, she's sore and hungry and less then excited to keep up an adequate pace with the rest of you.

But what a time that was. ——

Once back inside the walls of Kaer Morhen do you let Geralt tend to Ciri's wounds as you look through your extra clothing for something for her to wear. Considering her long sleeved shirt is ripped on the side and will need sewn eventually. Sifting through your drawer do you pull out a grey long sleeved top somewhat around her size, you close the drawer before rolling the shirt up.

But just as you're ready to exit the bedroom can you spot a blanket sticking out of your other dresser. A thick wooly one that's still in prime condition, snatching this up do you hold it close, heading out the door soon after. These two will probably make her discomfort lessen as she heals from the vigorous training today.

You walk down the hallways and past one or two Witchers going about their business until at last have you reached the corridor of Ciri's floor. But just as you're about to reach her door can you hear the beginning of a conversation between herself and Geralt. You pause, not wanting to intervene on this precious time together so instead do you eavesdrop through the cracked door.

Ciri sits on her bed, focus upon the bloody slice upon her left arm where the clothing is cut and the skin is injured. She looks upon it with distain, "I almost had it." She says while Geralt rips a piece of fabric near a small table that he's crouched by. She quickly gets up to take it from him, "I can do it."

She walks back to the bed as Geralt purses his lips, "You can do anything." He says halfheartedly before standing and making his way to her side with a clearish colored healing lotion in hand. He kneels down by her bedside before dipping his fingers in the substance and applying it to her cut. Ciri winces at the painful contact as Geralt looks to her, "Doesn't mean you have to."

She stares at him like she doesn't completely understand his simplistic meaning, or maybe she doesn't want to admit she could benefit from some help. He sighs, knowing the stubbornness of Ciri, "When a Witcher cracks his skull, all we need to do is stick him in a cot and fill him with veratrum, spurge, and hawthorn. Chances are, he'll survive. And when Y/N is sliced by a steel sword, the wound heals instantaneously, with a silver one...it takes a little more time. But she will live either way....You do not have that luxury." He stands once more, turning to fetch something from the table.

Ciri's brows furrow, "But you said we catch fear. That you have to face it. You mustn't just give up."

Geralt returns to her side, "That's right." He bends down just a little to wrap the cloth around her arm, "But you have to train first."

She chuckles in annoyance, "Well, then let me train."

"I am."

"No, your not. Not enough." He continues to bandage her arm as she looks to him defiantly, "I want to be a a great fighter....I want to be like Y/N. And not just against sacks of straw."

Geralt finishes the wrapping to look to her seriously, he kneels down, focus sincere and true as he speaks to her, "I have known many who wanted to be great fighters in my time. Do you know where they are now?"

Ciri pauses a moment as she searches his face for an answer though she gets none, "Where?" She asks softly.

"In cemeteries." He explains, "And you are not like Y/N, no one is like her. The lens through which she sees the world and lives in is different then our own. She is a natural in her element Cirilla, that is a place you will never get. But do not dismay."

Ciri quickly gets up with a huff, clearly not wanting to hear that from Geralt in the slightest. She's frustrated with the lack of hard training, she's frustrated that the Black Knight still lives, and she's frustrated that you're so talented with a blade and she's not. She's seen you duel Coen in the yard once and send him to the ground in less then twenty seconds.

Cirilla wants that more then anything, she wants to kill, she wants her enemies to hurt.

These words from Geralt are ill taken and unwanted as she stomps out of her room, you move out of her way even before she's made it to the door so it looks as though you've just arrived. When she pushes the door open do you meet with a coy smile, "Brought you some things. A new shirt and a warmer blanket."

Ciri glances at the two objects in your hands while slowly walking away, "Thank you Y/N, I have to go." And with that said is she off, hastily making her way down the hallway and out of sight as you stand there alone. Well alright then.

Turning to find yourself in the opened doorway of Ciri's room does your eyes land upon Geralt who's focused on something attached to a cracked spot in the wall. "Staring at walls now? Who knew Geralt of Rivia found interior design so fascinating?" You jest as he turns his attention over to you now.

He points a hand towards the cracked wall, "There's just, there's something odd about this. Give me a second." He says as you look to wheres he's pointed to. A place in the wall of rock that's looked to be cracked and uneven, where a root of sorts sticks out from the grey stone. He walks over to it and pulls on the root, chunks of stone falls to the ground.

"Dirty it up why don't you...oh? What's that?" He pulls his hand out of the small hole where a blue cloth rolled up in weak roots is shown. The roots being from Eskel a few days past when all that leshy shit was happening. He pries off the thin roots to reveal some type of blue clothing with golden lions patterned onto them. He stares at the strange material for a moment before looking back up at the broken part of the wall where it was previously hidden.

"Was that a magic trick you just did for me?" His gaze drops from the hole to you standing by the bed, he looks very concerned, "I'm going to take that as a hard no."

"Sorry." He mutters, "I wasn't sure. Had to know." He holds the clothing material up, "Can't say I know what this means however."

"Give it here, let me take a look." Geralt hands you the blue blanket like object with the golden lions, "Hmm, interesting indeed. Almost as though the roots were reaching for it by how this was found, wouldn't you say?"

"I was thinking that too."

You hold the fabric up, "A last piece of Cintra. But what would that damn leshy want with it?"

"I don't know." He mutters as those golden eyes land upon the blanket and rolled up shirt on the bed, "What's that for?"

"Ciri. A blanket for the cold considering this room has an open window with snow coming inside. And anyways, I figured she'd need a new top while I sew the one she's currently pouting about in."

He lets out a breathy laugh, "You were listening weren't you?"

"I'm always listening." You add with a wiggle of your brows, "There's not a whole lot that happens around here that I don't know about. Especially since Witchers are incredibly boring when not fighting monsters."

"Are we?" He asks a tad bit surprised, though he finds your reasoning amusing nonetheless.

"Oh very much so." You nod, "I think I'd rather listen to Jaskier play that fucking lute all day then listen to your brothers teach me about proper sword techniques. Or maybe I'd rather drown."

He chuckles at this, "They enjoy having someone other then one another to talk to."

"Well I hope some new wondrous face makes themselves known soon, because if Lambert tells me about the occurrence when he caught a hawk one more time I think I'll have to poison myself."

"We do have stuff for that laying around."

"Fantastic. When it's done just leave me there until my body lets it pass through and I'm back with the living. But then I'll need you to knock me out or something because I can't say I'd like to hear about that hawk again...or even the mora."

"I'll do my best."

"Good. Now let's get out of here before she comes back and gets even more moody about it." You hand him the blue material, Geralt stuffs it back into the stone before closing it up the best he can and following you into the hallway. Both of yourselves choosing to have a nice long stroll around before telling him to head to your room for bed while you get some dinner. It's been a long day after all and sometimes you just need some time away from everyone else. ——

Kicking the door behind you does it slam loudly against the wall causing Geralt to whip around ready to use his magic on the beast ready to pounce on him. You stand there with two hands full of bread and dried fish wrapped up in a thin cloth, "Geralt we really gotta stop meeting like this." You muse as he relaxes, "What are you doing?"

"Making my armor." He says while sitting against the beds far edge with the torso piece on his lap, "I'm just about done too."

"I wonder how long this new armor will last you this time? I'm going a couple months if things around here get a bit more exciting." You add, kicking the door shut before walking over to him to set the food onto the bed, "Which may come to pass sooner then we're anticipating."

"How so?" He asks over his shoulder as you tear off a chunk of bread.

"Ciri. There's just something she's not revealing to us and I can feel it. The girl sees things Geralt, things that show themselves to her or rather call to her to see them. Now I don't dabble with magic often because I don't trust it. But she's got it flowing through her veins so I can't help but notice."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean clearly she's got some hidden supernatural talents underneath all that hair of hers." You explain, "It's strange, it's hard to describe for someone not like me but I can feel it, sense peoples emotions from the pheromones they let off. And magic? Well you know I sense that shit anywhere, I've always been able to. And with her, Geralt she's got something going on and I'm not sure about what exactly. I don't think she completely knows either."

He sets his finished armor down on a table and returns to the bed to sit upon, "You know this for certain?"

"I do. We've never seen her show off this power but I know it's in there. Like with Pavetta, looks can be deceiving and I believe...I know, Cirilla has a power inside of her that's not understood yet. And with this leshy and the times when she has a "moment" I think something beyond her is trying to call to her or something of the like."

"Hmm."

You rest a hand on his thigh, "Geralt. Remember I lived with mages for a handful of years in Aretuza, I know when magic is influencing someone. And Ciri is conflicted by this whatever it is, maybe it's the leshy, maybe it's the Black Knight, maybe it's something else altogether? But I have to know so I am certain she is safe, I will not let this haunt her anymore."

He sighs, "You think we should seek this out don't you?"

"I do. What do we have to lose?"

He looks to you uncertain, "Her life."

You pat his thigh, giving him a reassuring grin, "She is stronger then you know. Believe me, I've seen her perseverance more then once....and I'll tell you something else. She does not scare easily."

"Alright. Tomorrow we get to the bottom of this. But for now we rest."  He says while taking the loaf of bread and biting off a chunk while you eat your dried fish.

"Hmm. You know this isn't too bad but I can't help but wonder where it's from?"

"Local river I assume."

"That's the thing. Where's the closest river from here?"

His brows furrow in thought, "Half a days ride."

"To a large stream or actual roaring river? Because this fish is quite big when not dried to these thin slices of meat." You add while holding up the whitish pink strip, "Smells of spices and herbs and salt, not terrible I must say which is good I suppose though it matters not a lot to me."

He chuckles, "Right. I've seen you chase down a deer with nothing but your hands and pure will alone."

"Well when you're stingy on arrows and a bow for that matter you've got to improvise."

"Yes, but I don't believe you cooked it."

You smack his arm, "I'm half monster have you forgotten? Sometimes I do beastly gory things and make a goddamn bloody mess about it too. Weird though, I've somehow managed to keep a Witcher with me this whole time and he hasn't once tried to stab me in the heart. If you'd like to know I do pride myself on that."

"Well I could say the same." Muses Geralt, "Witchers hunt vampires from time to time, maybe I seduced you first?"

You narrow your eyes at him, "You're pulling a long con on me?"

He snorts, "Would it be believable?"

"Can't say it would. But nice try, because when it comes down to it I know you're completely utterly enchanted by me no matter what you say or anyone else."

"Anyone else?" He questions with a puzzled look though his smile never once falters.

You shrug, "Your brothers. They uh, how do I say this kindly, uh...they think I'm a hell-spawn of darkness."

"oh."

"Well not all of them." You add, "Just some, a few, less then five. Probably around a solid four, I might have Clovis convinced I don't mean to suck the life out of everyone here. Not that I need to convince anyone because if people need convincing it means I want them deceived. Then that would mean I do have malicious intent which I, in fact, do not possess."

Geralt chuckles at your rambling before swallowing the last of the dried fish and leaning back into the softness of the bed. He closes his eyes as you take the small thin cloth covered in crumbs and set it off to the side. "Well if it makes you feel any better. None of them would dare harm you." Reasons Geralt.

You lean on your right arm to look at him resting, "Aww, I love not getting stabbed to death in the middle of the night. Really brings me a sense of comfort living in this place."

He snorts before opening his brilliant golden eyes to look upon you, "Now I understand you don't sleep as long as we do, but can you lay here and preferably shut the fuck up." He muses as you break out into a fit of laughter, looking away from him to try and keep your giggles as quiet as you can.

Finally does your crimson gaze turn to him, "Well if you insist. Now scoot it over your fatass is taking over half the bed." He gives you a look as you move to lay down, "What? Would you rather have me sleep upside down from the ceiling?"

He shifts over causing the bed to shake a little with the force of movement, "You can do that?" He asks as you lay next to him on your side turned to your big muscled Witcher.

"You've been with me for how long again?"

He playfully scoffs, "I've never seen you do that before. Didn't know you could do that too, guess the situation has never arisen."

"I can do anything." You counter with a wiggle of your brows, "But I must say laying here in this bed is nicer then the wall, did I ever tell that back in my home in Alcatraz I used to sleep inside a coffin?"

"Did you?" He asks with a little yawn.

"It was very comforting actually, like I was being hugged all over. Very dark, no light, no bothersome people to come crashing through my room to wake me. It was very nice. I do miss it from time to time."

He closes his eyes, letting out another little yawn, "I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

Your eyes study his peaceful face as you press a gentle hand to his cheek, "Not. I had a huge room fit for royalty with a big window facing the forest, I had a very comfortable bed in there too. I do miss that, I miss my coven, my kingdom in the mountains....I miss my mother the most. I have not seen her in centuries."

Geralt lays there, highly enjoying the sensation of your finger tips trailing lines around his cheek and jaw, "We could visit sometime if yo.."

"No." He's cut off by your quick intervention, "As much as she is kind to all living creatures within their right, she's not fond of Witchers. Unfortunately."

"Maybe it's for the best then." He whispers, you close your eyes and almost fall into a dream when his voice breaks the silence after a long time, "Does she know of me?"

"I'm sure she does, but not because I have told her. It's been centuries since I've seen her Geralt, however she has little spies all over the Continent that tell her things. There isn't a whole lot that goes on in the world that she doesn't know about."

"Hmm."

You smile though your eyes keep shut, "She loves me too much to harm the ones I love. Because if she found you as a threat, by now she'd have ripped your heart out and stuck you on a pole outside the castle. Goodnight."

He lets out a tired breathy laugh at this abrupt ending, "Goodnight Y/N, sleep well my love."

"Yes.....love you." Comes out in a hushed whisper while you hand slips from his cheek to rest against the mattress as you let yourself drift away into slumber. ——

After a peaceful nights rest does yourself and Geralt walk through the doorway into the evening hall as he carries a piece of armor with him. You're greeted to the sight of Ciri practicing sword work with Coen as her verbal guide. She points the wooden sword towards the fireplace before kneeling, doing a little twist and coming back up again. She stops her movements as you both walk further into the room now. Aware that you're here.

She looks at Geralt a bit anxiously, "You said I couldn't train more yesterday. Not today." Hopeful he won't be mad at her.

"That strange feeling that you get like someone's coming after you, can you describe it to me?" Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth instead.

She doesn't say a word for a brief moment before looking back up at him, "I don't know."

"When you think about it, what's the first word that comes into your mind?"

"A pull." She says softly, "It's...it's like I'm being pulled."

"Pulled towards what?"

She diverts her gaze away from his, "I don't know." She says while taking a seat on the wooden bench. Clearly not anticipating this is the first thing he'd have said to her this morning, she still doesn't really want to talk about it. It all still feels so weird.

Geralt shares a look with you as you give him a slight nod before moving to kneel down by Ciri, "If you were to follow that feeling, where would it take you?" She swallows, eyes parting from yours as she looks straight ahead, closing her eyelids to retrieve full focus. You know she's letting her power open up to the beyond, you can feel it.

Eyelids closed can you see the movement of her eyeballs underneath the skin. She sees the beyond through another lens. Heartbeat quickening as her mind races at the sights before her. After a short while does her eyes of green open with two words slipping off of her tongue, "The woods."

And so it begins.

-

Thanks for reading my Geralt lovers! More adventure to come!!! And smut, we’re getting there ;)

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