#if i keep scratching it its gonna bleed again

[hintsofhoney]

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you. 

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least. 

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you. 

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?” 

“Dean!” 

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later. 

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?” 

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.” 

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.” 

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods. 

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit. 

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust. 

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap. 

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage. 

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.” 

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time. 

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night). 

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain. 

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion). 

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile. 

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter. 

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now. 

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside. 

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face. 

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.” 

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it. 

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’. 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now. 

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge. 

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head. 

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

DEAN WINCHESTER: @perpetualabsurdity // @lyarr24 // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive // @akshi8278 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance // @themerc-with-a-mouth

You can join my taglist(s) here!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

[lunnybunny12]

Blitz x Reader (patching him up)

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN

This is mostly word vomit but hope you enjoy it.

Blitz comes back from a job pretty beaten up.

"Hey, Loona? its getting late I'm gonna head home," you said, closing your computer.

"kay. See you tomorrow " she answered while still looking at her phone.

When you and Millie moved to the pride ring, nether of you expected to be working at I.M.P. Millie got a job there pretty much right away. She would always come home to your apartment frustrated because of the lack of organisation of jobs.

One day you decided to meet her at work and walked into chaos. piles and piles of paperwork strewed everywhere. You offered to help and the boss offered you a job. Its been a few years since then.

"Thank you." you chimed.

Just as you were about to go file away the last few documents and head home, the portal to Earth opened. Moxie and Milie came through with a few scratches but Blitz took one step and then fell flat on his face.

"Holey fuck what happened?" you asked picking up Blits and dragging him to a chair.

"OW! ow ow. Some fucker got me a few times" Blitz said through his teeth.

"I'll say" Millie huffed " The guy practically had him on the ropes"

You looked at Blitz who had a look on his face that read: angry and embarrassed.

" Ah Thank you, Millie. Ever the ray of sunshine" Blitz growled at her.

"Ha ha well... Sir we're going to call it a night. It's uh getting kind of late" Moxie nervously chuckled

"Yea. You all go home. I'll lock up and see you tomorrow"

After that Blitz shuffled himself into his office and closed the door behind him. A few drops of blood followed behind him.

"How... bad was he hurt?" you asked walking to get the first aid kit from the shelf.

"Not bad enough to go to the hospital but he was definitely shaken"

"You want me to help you patch him up?"

"Nah Loona I'll be fine. Could you keep an eye on him when he gets home?"

---------------

The second that door closed behind him Blitz silently screamed in embarrassment.

He got his ass kicked, fell flat on his face and had Millie make him look like an absolute idiot. AND HE DIDN'T EVEN KILL THE GUY!

And to make things worse it happened all in front of you. He could've melted into that chair.

Since you were hired the two of you have flirted back and forth originally for Blitz it was entirely work place banter. Something to piss off Moxie and to keep up moral but as time went on he started to like you more and more.

Blitz was brought back to reality when he heard a knock on the door.

"Hey handsome, how you doing?" you chimed, closing the door behind you.

He felt heat rush to his face.

"I thought you went home?" he chuffed

"nope. Can't have my favourite boss die. who would sign my paycheck?" you winked.

Blitz laughed "And here I was thinking you liked me for my dazzling personality"

You smiled and gave him a quick look over. he had a few cuts on his face and arms but no sign of where the blood could be coming from. His face was pretty red too.

"Come on pretty boy, can sit on the desk?"

He sent you a pained look.

"Well...it's either you sit on the desk or I sit on your lap"

"OOO is that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart? He smiled wiggling his eyebrows making you blush.

You rolled your eyes and helped him to the desk. It was a bit of a struggle to lift him up there.

"Wow, your desk is huge!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot " He was about to stretch but then recoiled in pain making the pair of you chuckle again.

A while later he was all bandaged up and the bleeding had stopped.

"Ok. I'm gonna clean the cuts on your face and then I'm taking you home."

"You don't have to do that "

"Yea well it's gonna happen and I don't wanna hear you complain about it. Plus it gives me an excuse to hang out with you longer so that's that."

You had a cotton pad with antiseptic hovering over his face.

"This is gonna sting a little but I need you to stay still"

"OW"

Your hand went under his chin to make him look at you. For a second your eyes locked. You could see so many emotions swirling around and you felt your face heat up.

"I-Im sorry" you stammerd

"Wha - no no you... do what you need to do"

That's when the pair of you saw the position you were in. You were stood between his legs. Your faces were inches away from each other and both your hands were on his face.

You both felt as if you were on fire.

Eventually, he swallowed his pride and asked "Can I uh... try something?"

You nodded.

He nervously wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you even closer into a hug. Suddenly ...his cuts didn't hurt anymore.

"Thank you, by the way. I haven't had someone care about me in a while"

A shakey sigh escaped you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hug him back. Resting your head on top of his.

You both stayed like that for a while but you could've stayed there forever.

After you calmed down a little you guided his face to look at you again.

"Blitz?"

"Uh oh. You're using my name. Am I in trouble?"

Your face went red again " Do you wanna be?" you asked leaning in closer, your eyes flickering to his lips.

He quickly realized what you were talking about and he smiled the biggest grin you'd ever seen.

"Fuck yes"

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #vivziepop #hellaverse #Blitz halluva boss x reader #Blitz x reader #fluff

[saturnxlust]

HEYYY :P ik its been awhile my bad😔

Injured!Proxys+ben x Doctor! Reader

Tim Wright/ Masky

So this man is closed off, all of the proxys are😞

But hes not a idiot, he knows when his body has had enough and when he needs help

The only way you’d be able to help him is if its a severe wound or if your close with him

Im talking at least 2+ years of either dating or being friends..

Lucky you if you’ve made it this long!

Now actually helping him is difficult

Hes stubborn and doesnt like to admit hes in pain so when you stitch his sorry ass up or disinfect it, he winces but swears hes fine

Hes not fine

He also complains the entire time about how he could do it himself

Knowing full well he couldnt he just likes to be a pain in the ass

Brian Thomas/hoodie

Hes more lenient, he’ll let you help him even though we all know this man could do it himself

It wouldnt be good but as long as he isnt bleeding out he doesnt really care

Although hes the more lenient one hes still closed off and it takes atleast a year or more to be able to help him

The first time you actually clean up a wound he falls deeper in love

Its not covered in dried blood or anything!

Hes amazed at how gentle you were and found it cute if you were concerned about him

It gets to the point where he would make small bruises or cuts just to have you put a little bandaid on his finger or put pain cream on his bruise

He would totally make you kiss the bandages after, no matter how big or small😭

He has dinosaur bandaids and unicorn bandaids.

Toby Rogers

Oh boy buckle up

So he cant feel pain

Good luck☺️

He doesnt know hes hurt and most likely you wont either

If you somehow get him to wash his fuckass sweatshirt and seem to see a wound, he too, would be confused and surprised

He would find how concerned you were funny and laugh as you clean him up

If you yelled at him while he laughed he’d tell you to relax and that hes fine

Hes not fine

Like brian he would make small cuts and or bruises to have you patch him up

Back tracking a little, it would take a few months but not because hes closed off

He trusts you completely to not hurt him physically

It was just getting to see him without his sweatshirt on that was difficult

He keeps that thing on all the time no way your getting a peak at his scrawny ass unless you rip that sweatshirt off him or if you get…spicy.. with him..

Eyeless Jack

HAH

Good luck

He went to medical school

This man knows what hes doing

But like the others finds it funny that you want to help him

He doesnt need it but honestly

Hes too smart to get too badly injured, if he does it’s because he went awhile wothout eating and became reckless

I think that if he were to go more then a fee weeks without eating he would get reckless with how he got the kidneys

He wouldnt leave the victims alive and leave them in their bed naked with incisions on their stomach

When that happens he usually comes home with a bruise or scratches from the victims fighting back,

If you’ve gotten to the point that you know about that and accept it, not only will you be helping clean him up

You’d help clean his clothes up

Hes a clean guy dont get me wrong but after eating i think he would just need to sleep

And if your like me theres no way that 7’ tall demon is getting in my bed soaked in blood and possible guts ☺️

Jeffery Hodek

God i wish you luck if your with this man

He will let his wounds get infected for fun and he will enjoy it when you get upset (COUGH COUGH MOUTH CUTS COUGH)

He honestly couldnt care less and again, finds it amusing when you yell at him

Lets be honest his story is written awful so im gonna tweak it a litte

He did not get bleached, there was a explosion and some of his hair burnt off, it has since grown back a little but the burn scars are still there

So if you want to help him clean his mouth he’ll complain and tease you and taunt you but he’ll let you do it

..if you even want to after all that.😒

Benjamin Lawman

So he can’t actually get hurt…i mean unless hes like a zombie but he isnt, this guys a ghost

So i mean, unless he has some power to be human magically theres really nothing that can hurt him

Even you..

But you should find a way to hurt him, whether it be physical or emotional causr hes a jackass

And will make fun of you just to see you cry😒

Either bring up something from his past(he might get a little angry at that🥰) or threaten to throw him into a lake

You can’t actually throw him but..he..doesnt need to know that😇

#creepypasta x reader #tim wright x reader #ben drowned #jeff the killer #brian thomas x reader #eyeless jack #x reader #creepypasta

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 23: Not the Sharpest Lightbulb in the Crayon Drawer

The next morning, Molli stood on the doorstep and adjusted her outfit, trying to look presentable. She changed her body color to be her more natural color of such a deep red, it almost looks black. She wore a blue jumpsuit with a gold belt with a rose buckle. She hesitated a moment and knocked on the door. A few moments went by and the door was opened, revealing a surprised Waldo. The two stared at each other for a moment, “Holy moley! Molli! I haven’t seen you in forever! Does M know you’re here? Lemmie get him for you..” she tried shushing him frantically as he called out for his brother. Both M and Carmen came to the door, wondering what the commotion was, and one look from M had him rolling his eyes, “What the fuck are you still doing here?” Molli straightened up and smiled nervously, “Well, I was just about to tell your brother here about me thinking of joining… here. As a henchman-woman.. person.” Wally raised an eyebrow, “You were?” M crossed his arms, “Bullshit. You still have that hit on Red.” Carmen looked at M a bit surprised, “She what?” Molli waved her hands defensively, “No no I swear! I cancelled that contract. After I got free from that spear, I came over and saw how happy everyone, like Skaedfryd, was to be here! I mean, if people are happy, the boss must be doing something right.. right? Oh.. and I wanted to give this back too. Its still so cold, its weird..” she handed the spear back to M and put her hands behind herself, twisting anxiously. “I wanted to have a fresh start, I promise to try not to be a pest or a weed to you. I want to help out.” M snatched the spear and leaned on it like a wizard staff. “I will say it again. I do not fucking like you and I want you to get off this fucking island.”

Carmen puts her hand on his arm, making Molli’s eye twitch for a brief moment, “I personally think we should give her a chance. I mean, if we don’t help her out somehow, she could go back to doing worse things than we do. First sign of broken trust, I’ll let you send her off. How’s that?” M narrowed his eyes at his ex, putting the spear tip to her throat, “One whiff of deception from you and I will make sure you never find every single piece of your body to stitch back together..” Molli gulps and gingerly pushes the spear away from her neck, “Good to know, lover boy. So when can I start?” Carmen shows her inside, and has her follow her to her office. M gripped the unicorn’s arm and whispered, “Keep yer door open. I don’t want you alone with her. I don’t fully trust her yet.” She smiled and patted his hand, “You worry too much. I’m sure it will be fine.” M growled as the two girls went up to her office, the door stayed open much to M’s relief. Wally scratched his head, “Did I miss something?” M shadowed the spear back to Lekir’s room and he shoved a cigarette into his maw. “Red’s bleeding heart is gonna land her in more trouble than she can handle.. she’s already dealing with different body parts and powers up her ass, I don’t think she realizes she still fucking vulnerable. It aint like those superhero movies where they automatically good at things. Example, she took weeks to learn to walk again without aid. These powers?? She’s NEVER had magic. Her horn is.. is as good as shattered. You knew that, but it got worse when you were gone. Its completely dead in the water.” Wally rubbed his neck as M paused to take a drag. “We tried to do simple shapeshifting the only way I know how. She could barely muster the focus to grow a single hair on that piece of metal. She couldnt even change the color. She needs training and actual progress before she’s as invincible as she feels. And with Molli showing up last night and tellin me she has a hit on Red? Then joins us the next day? It don’t taste right.” Wally sighs, “Maybe she’s being truthful though. You may not see or even want to admit it but I can see you are happy here. Maybe she wants that. And who knows, maybe you can get together again. Don’t let the past breakup ruin the future bonds. Its an open opportunity to move on and possibly gain a new friend if anything.” M strode off, grumbling.

He passed Lekir who had watched from the other room, but didn’t get to hear much. “So, who was that, Bugboy? And why does she look familiar?” M groans and rubs his face, “She’s…. My ex. I stabbed her last night with your spear.” Lekir nodded, “So thats why it was returned with dirt and blood on it.. so if you stabbed her, why did you welcome her in?” M turned and snapped, “I wasn’t the one to welcome her. Yer fuckin wife and her fuckin bleedin heart did. And I stabbed her because she is a crazy dumb bitch who is horny for me seven ways to tuesday.. last night she said she was assigned a hit on Red but then this morning said she had a change of heart and canceled it to become better like me.” She gave a concerned look at him and at the ceiling where Carmen and Molli were in a meeting. Lekir sighs, rubbing her temples before looking back at M. “She's gonna turn on us one day you know that right? She's just waiting for the right moment. And if she is anything like you powerwise, Carmen can't win with her current state, neither can I because you can overtake me. You need to tell me and the others exactly what you know about her in its entirety. Leave nothing out.”

M rolled his eye with a groan, “Fine.. when Red gets out of her meeting I’ll call the rest of the group and give a full situation report briefing without my ex present.” Lekir nodded, “I definitely think a sit-rep is very much needed. Especially that threat of a hit. Why did she tell you about the hit? Didn’t she know you were security here? Or did she not read her own report?” M snickered, “Thats the thing, she does things half assed, probably only saw the target and location and when I saw her last night, she thought I had the same job and spilled the beans before I told her what I am here. She really isn’t too bright. She’s durable, like me. Hard to fully kill, but her powers are plant based and not very expertly controlled. Her emotions get in the way and her attacks are weak. She does excel in the knowledge of poisons and many of her thorns are laced with a decent cocktail. But she has never been known to finish a job.” Lekir raised an eyebrow, “And her job is to kill the world’s second biggest pacifist next to her himbo husband..”

Carmen came down from her office after supposedly showing Molli her room. “Hey Lekir. M, mind if you gather the other agents, other than Molli to the war room, I need to give a bit of a sit-rep briefing for everyone asap.” Lekir and M looked at eachother with a slight air of relief. Lekir turns to Carmen, “Please tell me we didnt just adopt a stray cobra..” Her wife chuckled, “More like a cartoon coyote. She’s still in my office, asleep.”

Lekir tilted her head, “What do you mean asleep?” The mare smirked, “I left my coffee on the desk unattended as a test. I had my back turned while at my file cabinet, you know, beside the mirror? I saw her put something in my coffee, and stir it with my spoon I had near it. She then licked the spoon. And now she is face-planted at my desk.” Lekir furrowed her brow with concern, “Is she a complete moron?!”

M lit his cigarette, “Its like I’ve been trying to tell you two. She COULD be formidable if she wasnt a dumb bitch.” Carmen smirks, “I think we should stick to my plan of treating her with kindness, though heavily restrict her from the more advanced things like heists and access to 079 fully. I’ll tell more at the briefing.” Carmen headed off to the war room when Lekir suddenly pinned M to the wall, holding an ice blade to his face, “You better handle this because if she ever succeeds in even hurting Carmen, I will make you pay! I spent 6000 years regretting not being able to save my husband from death. Make sure this is plenty preventable.. and prevent it before I prevent you from ever finding your head. Got it?!” M growled and shoved her back, straightening out his leather jacket, “You say this like I wasn’t going to already! News flash! You ain’t the only one who would go absolutely apeshit ballistic if Red were hurt! Now back the fuck off so I can do my fucking job!” M snorted as Lekir stormed off, brushing past Carmen who had a concerned look.

M flicked his cigarette angrily and checked in on Molli, who was still face-planted and out cold with slight foam to the mouth. He still felt her neck and wrist, disappointed at feeling a pulse but glad he didnt have to dispose of a body. He was about to reach for the coffee to pour it down the drain and his eyes caught on some of the paperwork they were working on for her hiring. Looking closer he noticed her signature, “Mali Negatta” and hmmed. He’ll need to ask when she had changed her name. She groaned a bit trying to lift her head. He remembered nights she used to get drunk off some of her lighter concoctions because alcohol didnt touch them as far as drunkenness. He sighed and shadowed a handkerchief to help clean her face from the drool and foam. He pulled her back and her head somewhat rolled on her shoulders, she slow blinks her eyes open as he gently cleans her face. “Hey you.. we should totally bang on the deshk here.. office sexssis soooo sexy..” she slurred. He paused silently and took the coffee cup, “Here, have some coffee, sober up..” he knew full well what she did, and wanted to know if she even remembered. Which she did not and eagerly took the cup and downed the whole thing. After a moment, she hiccuped and face-planted on the desk again. “Oooh I smell a new fuckin betting pool with this one.” He chuckled, patting her back and leaving her there to set up the meeting. “Fuckin lightweight.”

The meeting was very detailed, strategies were put into place and betting pools were cast, a bingo sheet for the kinds of attempts, and how she would fail, and how long until she either quits trying to kill or quits VILE itself. It was a mix of extreme seriousness and mockery. They knew the severity of the situation if she should actually succeed. But given her track record already, that severity was guarded by cautious ridicule and vice versa. And thats how it went from then on, although many heists were placed on hold while they tried figuring out a new cure for Wally’s condition.

Carmen searched all her books on afflictions and curses, minerals and crystals, and even diseases and illnesses. She felt she barely had anything on the subject and the internet didn’t come up with much either. She shut the large book she was looking in and sighed, taking off her purple glasses to rub her eyes. “Alright..” she said to herself, “Looks like I’ll need to take a trip to Canterlot.. they may have the book I need in the royal library. Might get a new hat too while I’m there..” She was sad when her hat had fell into the acid during the whole stone pillar incident but it was better than losing her life. She headed to the mech lab where M had been hooking up some new device to the chronoskimmer. She didn’t see him around and checked in with 079. “I haven’t seen the rude one today, he’s probably being harassed by that stray twig you brought in.” Carmen tsked, “You shouldn’t say things like that! Yeah she’s pretty thin but you dont know if its her metabolism or an eating disorder! I’m working on helping her gain a bit of meat either way. But I’m not judging her. Now can this thing still take me to current day Canterlot?” The ai sighed as if asked a huge burden, “Does Canterlot exist?” Carmen raised an eyebrow, “Yes.. thats a silly question.” The ai just looked at her, “Exactly my point. Just set the dials and be on your way..” Carmen wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, “Just tell M that I’m popping out for a book. And I’ll be right back.” She set the dials to open a doorway to right inside the castle, by the stained glass windows. She’ll be able to get to the library with ease from there providing no guards had seen her. She stepped through and closed the doorway back, knowing that she’ll be able to dial it back if she needed on her phone. She looked around and stood back, admiring the stained glass craftponyship of the multiple pieces. “I need to come back for one of these eventually. I always forget how beautiful they are in person.” She mused quietly to herself.

#mlp oc pony #carmen pondiego #ask blog #story update #ao3 fanfic #marehem #Lekir #Molli #Mali Negatta #Canterlot

[shipblogbecausesure]

Can you do a Liu x ej? But ej accidentally hurts Liu ( idk how😭)and jeff sees the bruise and starts going berserk? 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Sorry for taking so long to get to this, exams have been annoying ;-;

So small explanation: Both E.J and Liu are hosts to demons, named Axan and Sully. Sully tends to cause trouble for its own entertainment while Axan kinda lets E.J do whatever he needs to as long as he keeps them fed. Onto the angst

E.J wandered the forest, internally cursing to himself. Of all the times, of all the goddamn times of course he had to find his food had been stolen now! He’d forgotten to eat that morning so now he was even more hungry and Axan was certainly going to freak out if he couldn’t feed the body soon. Then he noticed something. He couldn’t smell… Couldn’t feel the grass under his feet… Couldn’t hear the normal sounds he was used to when out in the forest… He heard something move. “Axan.” There was silence for a moment before he heard only a growl in response. He fell quiet. Arguing with a hungry demon would get nowhere… He just had to wait in silence and hope Axan finished quickly.

Axan stood still for a moment, focusing on the smells that surrounded it. They were done with Sully constantly stealing their food… It would regret it. Its head snapped to look to the left. “Found you.” It took off in that direction, easily finding the demon in question despite the body’s lack of sight. They immediately tackled it to the ground. “I am done with you taking my food.” they hissed, letting out a growl and scratching at it. “Wh- Hey!” Sully growled as well, scratching back. The two continued fighting for a while until it became clear to it that Axan would win at this rate. It shoved them off and took off running. Axan followed for a while until it let out an annoyed growl, giving up and deciding to go after an easier target.

––––

E.J was relieved when he was back in control of the body, taking a moment to adjust to being back in the woods and all the sounds and smells. He got to his feet, sighing as he realized he was covered in blood. Axan wasn’t usually a very clean eater… He sighed. “Guess I’ll have to get clean…” He suddenly stopped. The blood… Some of it smelt like Liu’s… “Axan what did you do!?” he said out loud. “He isn't dead, Sully took off.” Axab reapplied, way calmer than E.J thought was fitting for the situation. He didn't even have it in him to argue right now… He had to get back. Once figuring out his way, he headed back to the mansion. Once there, he headed right to his room and gathered some supplies to clean his injuries. He knew he couldn't be distracted during this, he knew that, but he couldn't help but keep worrying about Liu. Did he make it back here? Fix his own injuries so he didn't bleed out? Or is he still out there…? He gritted his teeth as he accidentally pricked himself. He did his best to be careful and eventually, he was mostly fixed. At least the best he could do for now. Then he heard running, coming right for his room. He sighed, knowing exactly who it was. He got to his feet and soon enough, his door opened and someone punched him, knocking him to the ground. Jeff. “You son of a b****!” He hit him again. “You're gonna regret what ya did to Liu!” He hit him once more. Then again, and again, and again. Jack tries to block the hits at first, didn't need to open any of his freshly stitched wounds but eventually… he gave up. He could understand why Jeff was angry… He deserved his anger. He'd promised he wouldn't hurt Liu and he broke it… “Jeff, stop it.” The punches immediately stopped at the sudden voice. “C'mon Liu, he deserves it!” Jeff snapped. “What happened isn't his fault, it's his demon's. Back off.” Reluctantly Jeff did as he asked. E.J sat up, glancing over to where they were. Jeff said nothing as he left the room. “Liu… I'm so, so sorry. I didn't- I wouldn't-” He couldn't finish the sentence. “I know.

#creepypasta #homicidal liu #eyeless jack #e.j x liu #eyeless jack x homicidal liu

[rodentrody]

creepypasta oc art + backstory dumpp

i havent really posted anything of my own for a while now soo.. yeah! ive had his story put together for a while now, but im finally putting it out there!! (ive delayed it for the longest time)

so his story / details about him are just gonna be put together in categories since i havent really fully made a fleshed out backstory for him yet, its just really a bunch of ideas i wanna put together once i get back to writing again

ok now heres my actual oc, sorry for the yap session 😭

Name “Elias Finn Collins” 

Birthdate “August 27, 2006” 

Appearance “Right eye blind because of manically scraping the skin off with his nails of that side of the face in a panicked state, scar of scraped off skin still there” + “Peeling and loose skin around the scar due to the depth and long-lasting effects of the injury” + “Since the wound was originally caused by fingers scraping and digging into the skin, all different layers of skin are somewhat exposed, varying from a lot of reds and salmons” + “Also makes the depth of the scar vary“ + “Has a habit of picking the healed area, which is mostly scabbed over due to so much picking, so it is usually bleeding.” + “Ragged scarring around the scar due to what caused it” + “Ragged scarring around the neck as well due to scraping with his nails under the belief that something was under his skin” + “Picks and scratches at his neck too, causing it to always be raw and/or scabbed over” + “Slight stubble on chin” + “Left eye is green, right eye is a greyish-white (Blind)” + “Wears a leather, black and worn out motorcycle jacket with brown fur on the hood” + “White t-shirt underneath” “Worn out denim jeans” + “Dark blue/Black converse with fur on the inside” + “Hair is dark brown fading to a dirty blonde” + “ 

Personality “Introverted” + “Takes a while to warm up to anyone” + “Feels paranoid most of the time” + “Anti-Social” + “A bit childish in the way he acts sometimes” + “If he gets upset or mad, he’ll usually resort to physical violence, whether that be aimed towards someone or just throwing things around”

Habits “Picking his skin/unhealed scabs” + “Fidgeting with his fingers and anything else he has in his hands when anxious” + “Bouncing of his leg whenever nervous or just impatient” + “Talks to himself sometimes” 

Backstory (Unfinalized, just a bunch of ideas) “He had an average life up until he was around 11” + “Though, he was constantly being picked on by other kids due to his awkward nature, parents being split apart and him living with his father, etc.” + “His older brother, who is somewhere around 4 years older than him, wasn’t around his father’s place much though. His brother was always out with friends, breaking into cars and stealing them, coming home drunk, etc. The little time that Elias did spend with his brother was pleasant, through a shared interest of gaming, etc. His older brother was pretty caring for Elias though” + “His father and him were close up until when Elias hit about 10 years old, as Elias became more distant and started lacking interest in things he used to enjoy.” + “Elias wasn’t really into what his father wanted him to do though, leading to his father becoming somewhat bitter towards him. This was due to the 'lack of masculinity’ that Elias had, and because as Elias grew older, he reminded his father more and more like his mother” + “Him and his mother had a very good relationship up until when his mother and father split. She would always be there for him, and always told him that nothing he did could stop her from loving him. To say the least, she was caring towards him and was definitely more open than his father”

“Him and his brother had to stay with their dad due to financial troubles on their mom’s side. Their father split away from their mom due to constant arguing” + “After they split, (they were never married, only dating since they both had commitment issues) their mom couldn’t find a job and couldn’t keep providing for herself, leading to her overdosing on pills and dying. This took a huge toll on Elias, who was only 10 at the time. Not so much his brother, since his brother was more of his father's child” + “Elias had been the one to pick up the phone, hearing from a policeman about his mother's overdose” + “He immediately broke down into tears, disappearing into his room for a few weeks, only coming out late at night to get food and water” + “Eventually, after he finally came back out of his room and saw his father and brother, they could immediately tell a difference. He was no longer interested in anything he used to enjoy, seeming more paranoid and anxious. He barely talked at all anymore, a small contrast from before but still there nonetheless.” + “His life went on like this for a while, as he kept more to himself rather than going out and talking to people” + “Behind closed doors, he started seeing things. He had started seeing figures out of the corner of his eyes, varying in shapes and sizes, but mainly, a slim tall man. He never got a good glimpse at it, though” + “Eventually, around 14 years old, the seeing things, hallucinations and delusions got worse for him. He went a bit manic, thinking worms were under his skin, causing him to hastily grab at and scrape off the skin surrounding his right eye in an attempt to ‘get them out’.” + “His brother found him in his room, sprawled out on the floor and passed out with scraps of skin and a puddle of blood beside him. This freaked his brother out, immediately calling for his father as he looked at Elias’ unmoving and bloody face on the ground” + “They took him to the hospital, diagnosing him with Schizophrenia and being unable to treat his wound. This would leave a scar for life on Elias, including partial blindness in his right eye” + “The doctors at the hospital talked to his father and brother about sending him to a mental hospital for his safety, so that’s what they did” + “He fought back and expressed how much he didn’t want to go, and that ‘they’re out to get him’, yet his father and brother still just sat there and watched as the truck Elias got shoved in took off, taking him to the mental hospital” + “His life was an endless loop for around two years, until one day, he went manic again” + “Under belief that there were ‘spiders crawling down his throat’, he once again hastily scraped at his neck, causing a ragged bleeding wound around his throat. A few security officers rushed into the room as he was in this state. In delusional haste, he quickly and angrily dug his nails into one of the officer's faces, cutting through the skin. At the unintended distraction, he quickly sped out of his room, heading towards the nearest exit with blurry vision” + “He was quickly reported as missing, a police search being sent out but them being unable to find him.” + “After he got out, he ran and ran until he was far enough away. He ran into a nearby forest, it being nighttime by the time he got there.” + “He had to survive there for another year, living off of animals to eat for survival. Until he turned 17” + “He didn’t know he had turned 17, as he had already lost track of time. He had still been seeing things for the past two years he was in the forest, having more small manic episodes where he would pick, scratch and bite at his skin. But he had still been seeing figures. Specifically, the tall one. One day, eventually, the tall figure approached him, and despite obvious resistance, the tall figure took him back to his broken-down manor in the woods.” 

anndd heres my art of him

most recent art of him vVv

still very unfinalized but i really wanted to share him cause i love him <3

#creepypasta #creepypasta oc #slenderman #my art #creepypasta art

[stylesparker]

play my guitar

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

A/N: first eddie fic!! I have much more planned for this man, but in the meantime I’ll settle for my mediocre writing in this HAHA

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, motioning for you to come sit between his legs. He sets his guitar next to him on the bed as you come over.

“Eds, do you know how horrible I am at guitar?” You question him as he picks it back up and swings it around you so now it’s hovering over your lap.

“Yes, I do in fact,” he laughs, “but I’m here to teach you.”

Your brows shoot up and you attempt to look over your shoulder at him, “Teach me?”

“Mmhm,” he nods. You gulp, glancing back down at his guitar - the beautiful, clean, perfect guitar - that he never lets anybody touch. Including you. Until now.

“Umm, I would like to know what’s happened to Eddie Munson? Because.. I don’t think I’m talking to him right now.”

He laughs again, but it’s quiet and gentle, like he’s amused by you. Which he is of course.

“Babe, it’s fine. Sweetheart here can handle an extra pair of hands on her for the time being.”

You gulp again, but you don’t know if its because you’re nervous to suck or nervous to suck in front of him. It’s probably the latter. Eddie is probably one of the best guitar players you know- scratch that, Eddie is one of the best guitar players you know. And even though he’s your loving, doting boyfriend, you’re still afraid that you’re gonna make his ears bleed and he’s gonna give up after ten minutes. Maybe dump you in the process because how the hell can he date someone who is so bad at quite literally his specialty-

“Y/n,” he says your name into your ear, his nose tapping the side of your cheek to gain your attention. “I promise it will not be that bad. Even if you are horrible, and unable to be taught, I will still love you.”

“Yeah, right.” You mumble and you catch a hint of a smile on his lips. “You play something first.”

He huffs almost like he’s annoyed, but you know he’s not. He loves playing for an audience, especially if that audience consists of one person and it’s you. You rest your hands at the side of you, which means they’re on top of his thighs, so as his hands grip either end of the guitar like he’s done a million times, yours lightly trace numbers and shapes up and down his black jeans. As he begins to play; you feel his chin land on your right shoulder, his dark hair slightly tickling your face, and you have to stop yourself from laughing and interrupting him. You start to recognize the song after the first couple of strums, and he smiles as you begin to relax and lean back into him as you now shift from tracing to tapping his thighs. For him, it’s soothing having you here with him, keeping him company when all he needs is to just not be alone sometimes. The gentle tapping is a reminder that he still has you with him. 

You didn’t even realize he finished the song until you felt his lips ghosting over your neck and cheek. He presses small kisses all the way up the side of your face, and you can’t help but giggle as he tickles you a bit. His hand cheekily leaves his guitar and traces its way up your side, up under his band t-shirt that he gave you to wear, giving your chest a light squeeze. 

“Eds,” you warn, “don’t be cheeky.” 

“Wha- ME? Cheeky? Never...” his mouth curves into a grin, knowing that no matter what he does, you fall under his spell immediately anyway.

“Now c’mon! Play my guitar, sweet thing.”

You sigh, placing your hands on either ends of the guitar. 

“Okay, start the lesson.”

... 

“C’mon, now place this hand here, and your other here- hold it like this, good baby, you got it.” 

His praising and words of encouragement flew to your head way too fast. Every time he’d tell you something, it would go in one ear and out the other. Some of the chords that he’d taught you in the beginning of the lesson would be taught again, but he didn’t seem to really mind. You thought he’d get frustrated and give up, or get mad that you weren’t really catching on, but you start to think that he’s probably the most patient person you know. 

“Eddie, I can’t do it no more.” You groan, letting go of the guitar and letting it fall into his hands. He gives you a look. 

“No whining, baby, you’ll get it.” 

“No, I won’t.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re not gonna be able to perfect something in one night! It takes time, you just got to work at it, hun.” You groan in annoyance because you know he’s right. He chuckles at you as you try to turn around to face him, but he stops you and keeps you seated in his lap the way you were. “Ten more minutes, then we can stop.” 

You huff, but comply. He grabs your smaller hands in his and places them back where his were, looking over your shoulder again to get a look of what you’re doing. You close your eyes, remembering at least something he had taught you in the past hour, but before you even start, his steady fingers take yours and start playing for you. The feeling is weird—having him play but with your hands. His hands, so rough and soft at the same time, so well practiced with the guitar, guiding yours to play just feels so... romantic.

It’s like every fiber of your being is being set aflame from the heat radiating off of his body. His breathing against your neck has the hairs sticking up on the back of your neck, making you feel relaxed and on edge at the same time. Not one chord is off, and you don’t know how, because you’re basically limp at this point just letting him guide you. His hums as he plays were barely even audible, but now they’re a bit louder next to your ear. He can almost feel the smile on your face begin to grow as he sways a tiny bit to the left, then a tiny bit to the right. Back and forth, gently, getting you more in a relaxing mood. He doesn’t really understand why you’re always so on edge all the time, but he’s happy to take it away from you in this moment, even for a little bit.

“You wanna try a bit for me now, baby?” He hums, and you respond with a tiny head nod that has his face light up with joy. “Okay, you got it now. Just place your hands where they were and try and to remember what I did.”

As you begin again, it takes you about a minute to realize you’re actually not doing too bad. Definitely a little rusty, but much better than before. Eddie’s hands hold your waist with a loose grip, but squeezes you to let you know to keep going. When you start to falter, he notices your frustration with yourself and he kisses you sweetly on your cheek a couple times.

“You got it, honey.”

You finish up the song, just a little off key, but he didn’t care. He was just proud he got you through it at all.

“Oh would you look at that, my baby’s a professional now!”

You giggle nervously, but he could see the relief in your shoulders that you were finally done, and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself too.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you glance back at him, shyly almost. He kisses you hard on the forehead before he takes the guitar and takes it from you off your lap, setting it gently next to the bed so it leans against his nightstand.

“Maybe not in front of a crowd, or a gathering more than two people… BUT-”

“Hey!” You whine, slapping his shoulder. He erupts into laughter, grabbing your body and spinning you onto the bed, making it to where he leans over you—his forearms on either side of your head. You pout your lip, making him coo at you and kiss you all over your face so you can’t help but crack a smile at him.

“There we go, that’s my baby,” he smiles to himself, “but really, thank you. It makes me happy you tried it at least.”

You give up your annoyed act and kiss him on the lips. “Of course, I’ll always do anything to make you happy.”

He envelops you in a hug, taking you almost by surprise. You wrap your arms around him so your hands rub up and down his shoulder blades, keeping him close to your chest. 

Having the rest of the day to yourselves was a relief. Even though you absolutely adore his uncle, it was nice to lounge around in his trailer without any adult supervision. You got to practice more guitar, eat crappy food, and smoke a little with Eddie. Which, to your standards, is a pretty damn good day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson

[ironcladrhett]

(The War Between Brothers)

“And?! We were kids once, little brother. Nobody fuckin’ treated us with kindness, and we’re just fuckin’ humans. Not hurtin’ anyone that wasn’t ready to hurt us first.” He stepped close to Emilio now, getting in his face and jabbing his shoulder roughly with a finger. “You’re askin’ me to leave a monster alone. A beast that’ll only spread its malice out into the world, on unsuspectin’ folk what can’t even defend themselves. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck how old it is, you hear me?” He snarled through gritted teeth.

(Starry-eyed)

“What good will that do ya?” he asked, pacing in the darkness, eyes glinting malevolently with a grin the mare could not see. “Calm down… the lights ain’t gonna kill ya. Probably. Well, that’s what we’re here tah’find out, anyway.” Still he paced, heart beating at an elevated rate, the delight writhing its way up his spine. Nothin’ felt better than watchin’ them fuckers suffer. Nothin’.  “My, ain’t you pretty in the light…” he commented in a voice that sounded both saccharine and venomous at the same time.

(Good Omens)

“It wasn’t fair what he did. But he didn’t give you a choice. He wouldn’t have given you a choice either way, don’t you see that? It was always him or mom.” Ophelia stepped closer again, and Rhett flinched. “He was ruthless. Brutal. He tried to put it away for you, but he couldn’t. And he made you… just like him, didn’t he? When he died, you felt like you had to pick up his mantle?”  “Stop,” Rhett muttered, shifting his weight again and hissing in pain, slumping back against the tree as he’d been when they arrived. Ophelia moved closer, and he remained still.  “No, I won’t stop,” his daughter promised with tears in her eyes, her arm raising as a hand reached for him.  “S-stop, I don’t want—I can’t—” The girl’s hand found his shoulder and he had nowhere to go, helpless against her will as she circled her arms around his torso. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, the insect buzz and scratch of being this close to a fae almost overwhelming him, but there was no escape, so he tried to push it down. Bury it like he’d buried his brother. Bury it like he had the truth of his moralities all this time, overlaid by Desmond’s own. Just as he’d been adopted by that hunter community, so too had he adopted his brother’s code. He loved him fiercely, but Ophelia was right. 

(The Burden)

“Fuck’s sake,” Rhett snarled, shaking his head at the poor bastard of a ranger with fresh holes in his head. He turned on Emilio, jabbing an accusatory finger against his chest. “This is why ya don’t watch ‘em to see if they’re up to no good, little brother. This is why ya don’t spare ‘em. Ya fuckin’ kill ‘em when I god damn tell you to.” With an angry huff, he picked the sword back up and slipped it into its scabbard, then looked at Owen. “Forgive the idjit. He’s been havin’ a morality crisis fer a couple years now.” Maybe this would take care of that, he thought. Rather, he hoped. 

(Do It For Me)

Rhett hated being helped. He hated relying on other people. He was better than that, stronger than that. He was old as hell for a hunter, particularly with one so red a ledger as his own. He was a survivor, and he’d not gotten through it by cowering in fear, by hiding behind others. He hated it, but he was resigned to it for as long as Emilio felt was necessary. And what could he do? Abandon the only family he had left? He needed to, he knew that. He needed to get the fuck away from all of them as soon as possible, to keep his mistakes from bleeding into their lives too. But… he couldn’t. Physically, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel trapped, he was trapped. 

#. musing ; #sibling death tw

[writersmilex]

A Good Man

Murphy Pendleton X Fem | Reader

Summary: (Y/n) gets severely injured by a monster and Murphy helps her with her wounds and to recover.

(A/N): I just wrote this! I'm quite proud of it. And you all need to see this. I said that I'd write for Silent Hill, right?

____________________________________

It's the monsters like the Minions that intimidated her the most. It reminded (Y/n) of the time she had a violent ex-con as a neighbour, who threatened her multiple times. When she called the police on him, he went back to prison, this time without parole.

Not to mention that these monsters are admittedly much stronger than she is. If she doesn't have a weapon she is pretty much screwed.

There was a group of monsters that attacked her and Murphy, Screamers and a Minion nearly surrounding the two. Murphy was fighting back the Screamers, leaving (Y/n) to fend against the deformed prisoner. She was able to land a few good hits on the monster with a metal pipe. But then the weapon-turned-tool gets knocked out of her hands by the Minion and she instinctively backs away, raising her hands to not get hit. Just as she feared, the Minion launches at her to attack her. (Y/n) yelps upon feeling a painful impact on her arms, being knocked back, falling to the ground, and getting the air knocked out of her. "(Y/n)!" She can hear Murphy call with concern, switching his focus to the Minion and swinging The fire axe he is holding tightly in the monster's direction. (Y/n) scrambles to get back up, looking around hastily for her weapon.

As Murphy is too occupied with the Minion. One Screamer got back up ready to attack again, screeching and flailing its arms at (Y/n) to hurt her.

(Y/n) screams in pain as the needle-like claws of the screamer puncture her skin in several places. Too injured to keep going, (Y/n) drops to the ground with a thud. Murphy finally beats the Minion down, whipping around to see what happened to (Y/n).

"No! (Y/N)!!" Murphy doesn't think twice but charges at the monster and swings his axe in its face. In a blind rage, he slams the blade down into the creature's flesh several times, dead blood splatters freely as he makes sure it's as good as dead. "Stay away from her!" He growls once the monster has finally stopped moving, dropping the axe and rushing to (Y/n)'s side and kneeling to her. Worry is evident in his features.

"Oh god... (Y/n)." His hands shake with adrenaline, reaching over to grab her arm and guide it over his shoulder, struggling to pick her up but eventually getting her up to drag her to a slightly safer place, inside of an abandoned house.

~~~~

Murphy grunts as he pulls his companion into the rather dark house after kicking the front door open, planning to place her down at the next best spot he can find, and that's the old sofa in the middle of the room.

"There you go..." he gingerly places her down on the rough cushions, lifting her legs up to get her to rest. Her head rested on an abandoned pillow.

He is lucky that he's got a First Aid kit on him, he would dare think about what he'd do if he hadn't...

"It's gonna be fine... It'll be fine.," Murphy mutters, not sure if she can even hear him. He might as well be talking to himself again just to fill in the deafening silence.

However, he is quick to pull up (Y/n)'s shirt to inspect the bleeding gash that looked painful, didn't look too bad, he's not very sure what to make of it, he is not a doctor by any stretch.

It looks like she might need stitches, but there's not a needle or threat in the kit, he'll have to do with what he has.

Dressing the biggest wound first, Murphy then moves on to the slightly smaller one on (Y/n)'s arm... That one looks not as bad as the one on her stomach. Wrapping it up neatly as well. Furthermore, Murphy doesn't see any other injuries that require his attention, other than faint bruises and minor scratches that would heal on their own. She should be fine... right?

Murphy looks up to inspect (Y/n)'s face, unconscious, but hopefully not for long. Moving the hair away from her face, it almost looks like she's asleep.

He could feel that her skin was quite cold to the touch. Prompting him to move away from her looking for something that he could burn in a small fire, perhaps he could warm up too and not get sick after walking through the rain this whole time, together with (Y/n).

It was easy for Murphy to start a small fire, he had a lighter and there were enough dry sticks and luckily this house had a fireplace. The fire reminds him of those times he went camping with his son... He misses Charlie so much...

~~~~

Everything aches once (Y/n) wakes up, she can hardly move. At least what she is lying on is comfortable, on a dusty sofa. Moving hurts her arms and legs, but she still tries. Squirming against the cushions with a groan, attempting to sit up.

"Don't strain yourself." Comes a tired voice, followed by a crackle of a campfire. "Murphy?" Her voice was weak and hoarse, but he could hear it nonetheless. He stands up from the chair he was sitting in by the fireplace, reaching (Y/n) and looking over her injuries just to check. "You okay?" He asks, he already half expects her answer. "I feel terrible..." She replies, squirming to get more comfortable. Murphy hums in acknowledgement, he is satisfied that none of the injuries look worse than they did before upon inspecting them. "Did you do this?" (Y/n) asks quietly, gesturing to the bandages wrapped around her wounds for them to heal. Murphy remains quiet, nodding rather sheepishly in confirmation. "Couldn't just let you bleed out there, could I?" He states, moving back to sit down by the fires, mindlessly poking the burning fuel into the flames. (Y/n) can feel the warmth from the soul heat source, it helps to clear her trembling skin. "How could I repay you?" (Y/n) questions, Murphy shrugs in response, "Don't let it happen again... Scared the shit out of me." He confesses, his gaze remaining on the fireplace. (Y/n)'s head moves back to stare at the rotting ceiling of the abandoned house, paint peeling off, cobwebs put in their place instead.

Then she turns to glance at the ex-con again, he remains seated in the chair by the fireplace to keep an eye on the heat source, his features melancholy. She can do nothing but wonder what he is thinking about. Even as a prison Janitor, she never knew which inmate was in for what. Not that she could care about it in any way, but sometimes she can't help but wonder what the most quiet and reserved prisoner did to get where he is now. And she never asked Murphy what he did. From the way he acted, she assumed it was a touchy subject.

But he saved her life regardless, and he wants very little in return. And that attitude proves one thing to (Y/n).

"You're a good man, Murph," she says with sincerity in her voice. Murphy stops messing with the little fire and freezes up for a moment. He doesn't believe her statement to be true at all. He has done really bad things. And then this prison Janitor has the nerve to call him 'good'.

Murphy chortles, "I highly doubt that..." he says, gazing into the small flames.

His comment makes (Y/n) let out a painful laugh, clutching her injured side. "You just saved my life, Murphy! And you just met me. Surely that must mean something." She states, her head leaning to the side looking at the dishevelled man, his back towards her as he pokes the small fire he made with a stick. He doesn't meet her eye. "You like me," she claims, almost in a teasing tone of voice that causes him to chuckle, looking over his shoulder to meet her eye, "Yeah... Keep telling yourself that." He teases back, making her laugh even harder. Her laughter is short-lived as she groans in pain. "Really though. You're a good man if you're willing to save a life. So, thank you for that." (Y/n)'s tone turns serious, and Murphy's expression softens a little. He is not sure how to take the clear compliment, so he turns his eyes to the fire once again, making his face feel warmer than it should, "Yeah... No problem..." He replies after a second of silence that quickly returns.

____________________________________

There are too few stories with this man, he deserves more. So I made this!

Enjoy it. 

Thanks for reading.

- Smilex

#x reader #reader insert #imagines #fluff #femreader #angst #hurt/comfort #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill downpour #murphy pendleton #murphy pendleton x reader

[gearfoeging]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write something about a player that has a habit of biting their lips sometimes until they bleed? Its for any or all of the scribes whatever you feel really. Hope you have an awesome day

K but I actually do this all the time and it sucks! Also, I'm still getting used to writing down fics as apposed to just thinking about them so it turned out a little shorter than intended. Hope this fits what you where thinking, and you have an amazing day too!

Edit: again I was originally gonna write for all the scribes, but I had an idea for Mags first and then it just sorta kept going?? So here we go, Magnificus fic! I'm still open to doing the other scribes with this concept and this one isnt super long, but I figured it was getting too long to put the others in here.

"Just a little blood."

It was a bright and golden evening, light from the sunset spilling in through the windows of Magnificus' tower. It was the perfect setting to de-stress. In front of his canvas he stood, paining in silence, while you sat sunken into the collection of pillows and blankets you had piled under the window. You were tired and stressed, and the old wizard had a specific sort of quiet collectedness to him that you had been craving for the past few days. When you had come to visit him this afternoon in need of silent company, Mags simply handed you a small sketchbook and pencil and offered somewhere quiet to collect your thoughts; find some peace of mind.

So now you sat, cozy and warm, the stress and exhaustion of the last couple days easing off of your shoulders bit by bit. Your lip was still raw from having chewed on it all day, but hopefully the distraction of a pleasant atmosphere and the scratch of pencil on paper would keep you from breaking the skin.

It seemed that wasn't the case.

you had gotten so caught up in the rough sketch you were working on that you hadn't noticed how much your teeth began to absently worry at you lip until a sharp sting made you flinch. Mags paused his work when he heard your sudden shift, and peared over at you to see what had been so startling. What he saw was the slightly pained squint of you eyes and your hand partially covering your mouth.

"Are you alright?"

You jumped at his voice, snapping your gaze up to meet his. Perhaps you weren't as relaxed as you thought...

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, I'm alright... just..."

You looked back down to your fingers, now stained with small red blotches, and Mags followed your gaze.

"Is that blood? What happened?"

His voice was still calm and even, and he set down his brush, making his way over to you.

"Uh, it's just a little-" you had done this before, you didn't want to make a big deal of it. "-I bit my lip is all. Nothing serious."

He nealt down next to you, gently pulling your hand away from your face so he could see the injury.

"Now how did you manage that?"

You glanced away and shrugged

"Sorry. Bad habit."

Now that had been a surprise. Usually you acted as a neusence to him: leaning on him while he worked, pestering him with silly questions, making a ruckus and draining him of all his energy. He had actually gotten quite used to it. Despite your mission to annoy him day after day, for some time now he found your presence a reliable constant, and had even begun to find you endearing; charming in you own strange way. Occasionally you where sweet and gentle, bringing him fresh home baked goods, or dragging him outside when he locked himself in his tower for to Many days. But you where never so small and apologetic, shaking and stuttering. You had seemed a little off today but he figured you where just tired.

"Are you alright my dear?"

You met his eyes again, but this time a tinge of confusion swirled in you. He usually referred to you by your name, sometimes 'menace' or 'pest' or bother', but never 'my dear'.

"Yeah... uh, like I said, it's just a little blood."

You gave a quick, lopsided grin that didn't convince him you where at all okay.

"Of course, just a bit of blood. But are you alright?"

On repeating the question and giving you a moment to think it over, you seemed to realize what he was asking. As soft 'oh' escaped you as your sight drifted down to his hand that he hadn't pulled away and you where now holding. A moment later a deep, weary sigh that carried far to much weight deflated your chest and shoulders.

"It's, um... I'm alright. Just, stressed y'know? Few nights ago I didnt sleep much, insomnia, then I was overthinking everything and making myself anxious and so I didnt sleep much that night and... it, just sorta' made it self worse."

Magnificus never took you for the type to get anxious over nothing, you where always so bubbly and cheerful, a spark of fire and warmth in the dark. But he supposed everyone had bad days here and there, he had simply never seen yours.

"Hm, well that won't do."

He stood, slipping his hand out of yours, and turned to make his way to the back room.

You sputtered in confusion.

" I- you-... but-.... um, what?"

"What kind if tea do you like?"

He didn't even pause at your stuttered, incomplete question, simply continuing his pace to the doorway that lead to the small room he used for storage.

"Uh..."

Then he did stop a few steps before he slipped out of view to the other room and turned just enough you fix you with a expectant gaze.

"......green?"

It came out as more of a question but he took it none the less and disappeared into the back room.

You sat there for few moments, completely lost in the Mage's sudden act of what you could only assume to be kindness (or perhaps pity) before a small quirk of a smile tugged at the edge of your battered lip. It still stung, but less now, and the bleeding had stopped.

You might have to get stressed more often if it meant a soft magician and a free cup if tea.

#magnificus #mags #magnificus x reader #x reader #inscryption magnificus #inscription #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #old bush man loves you #he would never say it though #just makes you tea #what a sweetheart #leshy #grimora #p03

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober Day 3:

"Like crying out in empty rooms, with no one there except the moon." 

Journal | solitary confinement | "make it stop."

Fandom: Voltron

Prompt used: All

Soooo this ones a little intense- at least to me as I write this. Its never specified but Lance is alone for awhile, so tread carefully just in case. I think I may do a continuation on one of the other days for this one so keep a look out if you like this one.

TW for self harm, and Torture

...

There was little light in the room. He'd tried to figure out where it was coming from, scratched at the lips in the walls until his nails were broken and bleeding. He'd decided they simply glowed. 

There was no window, and the door disapeared- no it blended in, it had to be there still it had to, it could just be gone that made no sense- after that first day. That first day when he'd woken up, confused and in pain, and had a strange alien come in and speak to him. He couldnt tell you everything they said, broken translator glitching every couple words or other sentence. But it was an experiment, and a punishment. 

Lance wanted to go home.

"Journal entry uh… whatever. The water and bread like stuff appeared when I passed out again, I dont remember falling asleep… It tastes weird, but they got angry when I didnt consume it before… the walls are still glowing… or maybe it is dark and Im going crazy… how many days has it been journal? Why… what did I… its not like your gonna answer anyway…" 

His head hits the wall with a solid thump, the sound better than when all he can hear is bodily functions, so he does it again. And again, until his ears ring and his head aches, and the noise has blended in too much to be different and he stops. His heart and head beat to the same toon, he holds his breath to stop hearing the inflation of his lungs only for the beating to get louder. Frustrated tears come to his eyes as he releases the breath in a shout, which turns into an angry yell as he turns and pounds his tender fists into the wall.

Its not the first time, there are smears of blood- old and new- from his many little moments. He thinks hes allowed such moments after all, locked up for who knows how long with no interaction. He cant even talk to Blue, the thin connection in his soul the only thing telling him shes okay. In the beginning, he equated his moments to Keith, when he went ham on the training gladiatiors. But now… staring at his ruined fists, and wall still intact besides the smears, he feels as pathetic as ever. 

He knows for a fact the rest of the team would have found a way out by now. Pidge's curiousity and spite always leads her to solutions of some kind. Hunk would have found out how this box worked and rebuilt it ten times over. Keith would have samuraied his way out of course, and Shiro would probably find this childs play. But really the main difference… is they arent him. Lance did something wrong. Lance was stupid and weak and easily caught. Lance hasnt been able to find a way out. Lance- is referring to himself in third person. Again. 

He deserves to be here. The team hasnt found him yet, blue is out of range, and Lance is being punished for something. He wouldnt want any of them in his situation anyway, theyre probably off saving the universe still, probably relieved hes gone. He… he hopes theyre getting enough sleep. That Pidge isnt stuck with her face in a screen, refusing to sleep. That Hunk isnt spreading himself thin, and bottling things up. That Allura is recharging her quintessence, and taking care of herself and not pushing too hard on her own mind and the teams. That Coran isnt lonely and doing everything by himself. That Shiro is remembering to laugh and relax and chill. That Keith isnt isolating himself and training to death and… 

He misses them.

Lance thought that… even if he never saw Earth again, never saw his parents again, thatd at least, the last thing he saw would be his friends- his space family- safe and alive. Not some creepy alien, or the four same walls, but the people he cares about. He knows… he knows he wasnt their first choice. That Blue deserves better, the team deserves better. But… he still loves them so much. He just wanted to know they were okay. 

A stinging sensation disrupts the static ache hes fallen into, his motions drag like paper through water and he looks down at his arms. His nails, brittle and broken and cracked, have still managed to drag angry red lines across his arms. Blood and that watery fluid have bubbled to the surface in some areas, and he feels a detached sort of dissapointment. His nose whistles.

The not bread and the ucky water have appeared again. Hes on his side, he doesnt remember falling asleep, from how tired he feels, hes not even sure he can call it that. He knows they get mad when he ignores the susstenance, but he can only stare at it blankly. What was the point anyway? If he was just gonna keep waking up here, he didnt want to anymore. 

He thinks he counts for moment, to determine how long it takes them to get mad, but when he tunes back in to his own brain hes simply repeated the same line of lyrics over and over. He cant recall the song, or any other lyrics, and all its really doing is annoying him, but he cant find the energy to yell at his brain to stop. 

'One. I can count to one. Two. I can count to two. Three. I can count to three. Four. I cant count no more. I can only count to four, I can only count to four, I can only count fooouuuurrrr-'

The room brightens and Lance tenses as a noise fills the room. But the noise was always there, a ringing in his ears, but it grows louder and higher until everything is screaming. He hold his hands over his ears, finds a warm wetness with undertones of crusty, his mouth is open his throat feels shredded, hes curled up as much as his ribs will allow- they poke out, he can see where theyre wrong, they warp as the noise increases. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, tears streak his face, he cant see anything, theres red in his blurred vision before it whites out completely, a warmth below his nose. Shivers wrack his tense body as the cold he'd been trying to ignore sets in bone deep.

"P'ease…m…m-make it… st…stop…" 

He doesnt know when he went limp, eyes open but seeing nothing, the ringing is everywhere, the feeling of liquid drying on his skin makes him itch, but he cant even twitch. 

"M'ke it st…stop. Make eh stop… make it stop." A sob from deep in his chest, voice hoarse, everything hurts. "Make it stop please." 

He couldnt even tell you if he'd actually spoken, or if wordless noise escaped a ruined throat. The pounding of his heart, the ringing of his ears, nothing seemed to exist past that. 

Warmth on his cheek, he must be crying again… 

Pressure on his back, his shoulder thanks him for rolling over, he cant recall doing it.

Something touches his neck. 

He flinches violently, surprising himself and whoevers touching him. He throws his arms up, his back now against the stupidly familiar walls.

"Make it stop! I dont want to anymore! Just kill me already, Make it stopmakeitstopmaKEITSTOP!!"

Something rumbles in his mind, loud enough to block all the stupid noises, filled instead with crashing waves and warm sand, foreign yet familair. 

"Lance." He flinches, he can only half hear what was said, head in a fishbowl of water and one ear clogged, but it was definetly his name… 

"Leandro, please look at me hermano." 

Tears bubble in his eyes as he realizes what this is.

Hes lost it completely.

Hes halucinating now. Maybe it really is finally the end-

"Lance please." It sounds so broken, she should never sound like that-

He looks up. 

The door. It did exist, lying in sparking pieces as it is. Shiro is in the doorway, face drawn in concern, galra arm still smoking from whatever he used it for. Behind him Keith is glaring down his sword at something Lance cant see. Infront of him however, curled up in the too small room, knees an inch from his own, back bowed so his head wont hit the ceiling, arm brushing the smaller one next to him. Two sets of warm eyes, wet with tears and dark with bags, look at him with mournful sadness and yet, tentative hope, relief. 

The tears spill over, his lips wobble as he sobs,

"Make it stop please. I cant handle it if youre not really here. Please." 

"We're here buddy. Hermano, we're here. Give me your hand Lance, I promise we're real." Hunks voice wavers with emotion, Lance knows he's seconds from breaking down. 

"We're late, but we're here Lance. Please." Pidges voice is small, hand held out beside Hunks, both tremble. 

Lance is going to regret it. He is. He's gonna regret it. 

His hands- cold, achey, maybe broken, filthy- meet the warm calloused palms of his friends. He slumps forward like his string have been cut, but the two dutifully catch him. Warmth. Not from blood or tears, but from real people. Lances eyes slipped closed, feeling safe for a moment, if he wakes up alone… at least he got to see their faces one last time…

>>next

#whumptober 2023 #no.3 #“like crying out in empty rooms with no one there except the moon #journal #solitary confinement #“make it stop.” #voltron legendary defender #fic #blood tw #panic tw #self deprication #? #angst #lance angst #he doesnt do well alone #poor boy #part 1? #implied good ending #langst #found family #self harm tw

[direwombat]

stay like this + [ reach ] for jakesyb?

also paging @cassietrn who asked for the same dialogue prompt! Thank you both! <3 &lt;3 <3

“You keep havin’ me run down your little feral experiments, I’m gonna have to start chargin' ya,” Sybille says, dropping the Judge Cougar’s hide, claws, teeth, and a sample of its muscle tissue sealed in a ziploc baggie onto Jacob’s desk. The pelt reeks heavily of Bliss and she nearly got high off the fumes just carrying it from the Henbane. It’s a fucking miracle no one noticed her gingerly scaling the Veterans Center edifice as she climbed towards Jacob’s balcony. 

Her head is light and she feels a little dizzy from inhaling the creature’s ambient Bliss for the better part of an hour, but now that she’s finally unloaded the pelt, the haze around her brain is beginning to clear.  

Jacob looks at her from where he sits at his desk, his feet kicked up and reading glasses slipping down his nose as he glances up from the report he’d been reading. His eyebrows raise and a small smile tugs at his lips. Removing his glasses and setting the papers down, he rises from his chair and takes the fur in his hands. “That was fast,” he remarks. 

With a small shrug, Sybille leans her hip against the desk, taking a half-seat against it. “Wasn’t doin’ it just for you,” she says. “This little kitty’s been causin’ trouble for my people too.”

He hums thoughtfully, picking over the claws and teeth before holding the tissue sample up to the light. “And yet I’m the one you’re bringing the fur to.”

Sybille shrugs again. “Was either this or sell it for like two-hundred dollars.”

“Two-hundred dollars is two-hundred dollars,” Jacob says. 

“And what am I gonna spend it on?” Sybille scoffs. “Mall ain’t exactly open no more.”

Lowering the muscle sample and setting it back down on the desk, he flashes her a toothy grin. “Mm-hm,” he nods. “And the idea that you might have wanted to see me again is entirely out of the question, right?”

Sybille smiles and huffs a small laugh. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

He leans forward, pressing his palms against the desktop and smiles at her fondly. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and there’s no malice to be seen shimmering in those icy blues. Just affection. But as his gaze roves appreciatively over her body, that smile falters when he notices the tatters of her right sleeve clinging to the bloody mess of her forearm. His brows immediately furrow in concern and he frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

“Ah, it’s nothin’,” Sybille dismisses, turning her own attention to the wounds. She had managed to take the beast down, but not before it lashed out at her with its claws. “Just a scratch.”

Jacob frowns and he moves the cougar remains to the side. “Up,” he says, patting the empty space of his desk.

“‘Scuse me?” 

“Up,” he repeats a little more firmly — less of a suggestion and more of a command. “Let me take care of that.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and she looks at him incredulously. “You bein’ for real, right now?”

He ignores her question, falling back in his chair and rolling over to a nearby set of drawers and he pulls out a first aid kit. Rolling back to the desk, he sets the kit down and pops it open all while leveling her with a stern look. “Ass. Desk. Now,” he orders.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she does as he says. With a quiet, but sarcastic, “Yes, sir,” she hops up onto the desk and swings her legs around to the other side so that she’s facing him. 

“Arm,” he says, motioning for her to extend it while he pulls cotton balls, bandages, and a bottle of disinfectant from the kit. Once again, she does as told. He takes her arm, and while his grip is firm, it isn’t bruising — not how she’s used to. Gently, he peels away the torn pieces of leather and flannel, exposing the deep gashes oozing blood down her forearm. He sighs heavily and reaches for his canteen. “You’re lucky the Judges didn’t smell you,” he mutters, pouring water over her arm to wash away some of the blood.

Sybille crosses her ankles and begins absent-mindedly swinging her legs back and forth in the air. “Your dogs ain’t caught me yet,” she says flippantly. “Thought I’d give ‘em a fightin’ chance.”

But Jacob doesn’t laugh. A vein throbs in his jaw and he clenches it. Wordlessly he presses an alcohol soaked cotton ball to the edges of her wounds and she hisses at the sting. Her arm twitches, but his grip tightens. “Hold still,” he grumbles. 

She watches his face as he tends to her. She takes in the worry lines creasing his forehead as his brows knit together. She observes the way his lips press tightly together and his jaw remains tense, as if he’s biting his own tongue. But despite his harsh, dour expression, he moves with a thoughtful tenderness, carefully cleaning the deep gashes and gently rubbing his thumb in small circles over uninjured skin each time she winces.

He’s pulling the first stitch through her skin when she huffs out another quiet laugh. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Nothin’,” she answers. “Just funny how you’re perfectly content to have your Hunters usin’ me as target practice, but a little scratch from a kitten gets you all worried.” 

It’s almost sweet, she doesn’t say.

Briefly, he glances up at her from beneath his heavy brows, and then he pulls the curved needle through her skin. “It’s different when you’re doing work for me,” he says quietly. 

With a click of her tongue, she says, “Aw, and here I was thinkin’ you were sweet on me.”

His nostrils flare and his mouth twists — a million things he could say, but he bites back all of them, save for a quiet “I don’t like it when you’re getting shot at either.”  

The confession causes her pause. Stunned into silence, her eyes go wide before her heart does a strange little flutter in her chest and her expression is softening. “I’m a big girl, Jacob. I can take care of myself. Ain’t need you protectin’ me.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, and she realizes that she must have been hitting all the wrong nerves. He’s normally so easy to banter with. Antagonism is what their relationship is founded on, even if it did grow into something more playful later on. He pulls on her pigtails, she flushes his homework down the toilet, and then they make out behind the bleachers. Classic schoolyard shit. Fun and games. 

And even their little game has its rules. 

But he isn’t playing anymore.

Which means she has no idea what the hell he’s doing. 

The seemingly genuine concern and tenderness she’s receiving from him is as enjoyable as it is concerning. The only times he treats her like this, which such caution and reverence, is after he fucks her into a trembling mess. This is the first time he’s shown her an ounce of compassion outside of his bed. “Alright,” she whispers, and she shuts her mouth, remaining quiet while he finishes sewing up the remaining scratches and wraps the bandages around her arm.

She pulls her arm back once he’s done and cradles it against her chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He disposes of the bloody cotton balls, sweeping them into the tiny waste bin underneath his desk. “I take care of what’s mine,” he grunts, tossing the remaining supplies back into the first aid kit and snapping it shut. 

The words shouldn’t fill her with as much warmth as they do. He doesn’t own her. She isn’t some tool in his arsenal, and she sure as hell isn’t his blood, but he looks after her like she is. There’s only one other person left in the county who has probably had Jacob personally tending to their wounds, and that person is his family. 

She’s a little bit honored, if she’s being honest.

Jacob Seed isn’t a nice or good man. She’s known this from the very beginning. But behind his rugged exterior and the towering walls guarding his heart, she suspects that there might be a kind man, hiding somewhere deep inside.  

“Well…thank you,” she says. 

He grunts again, standing up to return the first aid kit to its original home. 

The smart thing to do would be to leave. To slip off his desk, disappear out the open doors to the balcony — doors he leaves open just for her now — and vanish into the night. But she doesn’t want to go just yet. Not with this bizarre tension thickening around them. So she remains where she is, sitting on his desk, waiting for him to return to her.  

He ultimately does, coming to stand between her spread legs, and she reaches towards him to drag his face towards hers. She aims for a kiss, but is abruptly stopped when his forehead knocks lightly against hers. He leans against her, dragging her hips forward. She wraps her arms around his neck and arches against him to press her body against his. Both their eyes flutter shut as they embrace. 

“What am I gonna do with you, Jackrabbit?” he asks. 

A number of answers flash through her mind — keep me here, never let me leave, prove your strength and keep me safe — but saying any of them aloud would make things too real. So, in lieu of something clever, she just hums and angles her head to brush her nose against his, a silent plea for him to kiss her. 

He lifts his hand to cup her cheek. The pressure against her forehead disappears. The heat of his breath fans over her face. 

A knock sounds at the door. 

“Brother Jacob!” a Chosen calls.

She feels the growl reverberating deep in Jacob’s chest at the interruption and she buries her face in his neck to stifle a laugh. Just their luck. 

“What?” he barks. 

“The Deputy’s been spotted in the area,” the Chosen says. “Patrols are already looking for her, but I’m just letting you know — as per your orders.”

Jacob sighs heavily. “I have to take care of this,” he murmurs. His voice is heavy with regret, and reluctantly, he begins to pull away from her. 

“Wait,” she breathes, and when he pauses, she hesitantly takes his hand. Her long, slim fingers snake between his, and she gives it a squeeze. He stares at her, wide eyed. His gaze darts from her pleading face to where her hand grasps his, and back to look her in the eyes. Swallowing thickly, she says, “Stay. Just…” She sucks in a shuddering breath and licks her lips. “Stay like this. Just for a second.” 

Just as hesitantly as she reached for him, his fingers wrap around her hand — so big, so warm and rough — and he lifts it to his mouth. His lips brush over her knuckles before he presses a kiss to them.

The Chosen knocks again. 

“Yeah, just a second!” he snarls towards the door. Then, he’s leaning his forehead against hers again, his mouth twisting apologetically. “You have to go,” he whispers. 

“I know,” she nods. 

But she doesn’t move. 

And neither does he. 

His breath fans hotly against her face, and he squeezes her hand. 

Another, louder, series of knocks bang on the door. “Brother Jacob?

“If they catch you I won’t be able to —”

“I know,” Sybille whimpers, and she squeezes her eyes shut to fight back the tears burning at her eyes. She tilts her head to brush her lips against his but before Jacob can lean in with her, she’s pulling away. Untangling her fingers from his, she runs her knuckles down the side of his face. “Can I at least get a five minute head start?” she asks. 

“I’ll make it ten,” he says. “Now, go.”

Slipping off the desk, Sybille rushes back out onto the balcony, but before climbing back over to make her descent, she shoots him one last heartbroken look. It’s cruel, she thinks, forcing him to watch as she disappears into the night knowing full well that he’ll have to hunt her down. It fucking sucks being limited to stolen moments and clandestine meetings like they are. Things would be so much easier if one of them just gave in to the other. No longer enemies but allies, fighting side by side rather than against each other. 

Which isn’t going to happen. They’re both too damn stubborn. 

But as she darts through the woods, trying to outrun the sounds of the snarling Judges, Sybille isn’t sure how much longer she can take this.

#r: define your meaning of war #oc: deputy sybille la roux #my fic #i lost steam working on this so it's not as polished as i'd like #but i wanted to get this finished. so. woe. jakesyb be upon you

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumpcember #7

Devil May Cry - #7 - Scars

*

“Ow! Maybe you really are a demon.”

Nero wrestled the struggling black cat down from the tree it’d been stuck in. It hissed and clawed at him, clearly afraid of falling.

But Nero endured the abuse and leapt back to the ground, setting the cat down gently. It turned its nose up at him in disdain at the experience.

“Yea, yea,” Nero said, nudging it along with his boot. “Get going and stay out of trees, asshole.”

He looked down at his bleeding arms, the scratches deep. He scowled and turned to Vergil, who had simply sat by and allowed him to deal with the issue himself.

“I’m gonna head inside and clean up,” he said.

Vergil said nothing as Nero walked past him and went into the house. As soon as he heard the door close, he slowly extended his hand to the still-lingering cat.

It crept closer cautiously. Vergil made no noises of encouragement, only held his hand steady and still.

The cat sniffed it before bumping its head against it and purring. The cat pawed curiously at Vergil’s sleeve before rubbing its head along it. Vergil stroked his hand along its soft fur.

“Are we just never gonna talk about it?”

Vergil felt the cat stiffen beneath his touch at Dante’s approach. He did not look up or speak to his brother.

“Vergil.” Dante sat beside him, a noticeable gap between them, just like always. “I killed them.”

“I was preoccupied at the time,” Vergil said.

“I know what they were,” Dante said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I understand more than you think.”

Vergil felt a flare of fury. Understand? How could his brother ever understand what it was like to be a slave to the man who destroyed their lives? How could his brother ever understand what it was like to live inside your body but have no control over it? How could his brother ever understand what a shame and a mercy it was to lose to him for a final time, ending the torment he’d been enduring? 

Still, Vergil swallowed his anger back down, smothering it in his heart as he always did. And this time, he did it with slightly less malice at the memory of Dante’s hand reaching out for him.

Years of reflection eased his hatred, just a little. Dante had reached for him and Vergil had not reached back. He had sealed his own fate when he responded to Dante’s help with a sword. 

“It’s okay to have scars,” Dante said.

“Stop talking,” Vergil said.

“No. I’m getting old and sentimental.” He glanced back at the house. “I watched your kid lose the only brother he ever knew, and I watched him take a path so similar to yours. But he walks it with love, Vergil. Not hatred. That’s the difference. And look how great he is for it. That kid’s a pain in the ass, but he is incredible when it comes down to it.” He nudged Vergil lightly. “Something to be said for his determination overtaking your greed.” 

Vergil focused on the cat, feeling a bitter sense of irony as a large bird chose that moment to fly by overhead, its shadow passing over them. He could not deny Dante’s words.

He had scars. Scars that haunted him every day of his life. Scars that no one else could see but were glaring to his own eyes. 

He was glad his son had found a better path. Vergil’s path had done nothing but break him, over and over again, and make him show his strength in pulling those pieces back together, no matter how deep they cut in his reckless push forward. 

Dante had his own scars. Maybe he did understand better than Vergil had ever been willing to give him credit for. 

“You’re not keeping it,” Dante said as the cat rubbed its head against Vergil’s arm again. “Not after the last goddamn giant cat.”

“Shut up, Dante.” Vergil turned his head away from his brother.

Some wounds had yet to scar over. Some wounds were too raw to acknowledge right now.

So they sat together in silence, their own relationship finally beginning to scar over, even as their private pains raged inside them.

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 day7 #Nero Sparda #Dante Sparda #Vergil Sparda #dmc nero #dmc dante #dmc vergil #jtdoeswhumpcember

[cosmos-coma]

Prey of the Hunt- Chapter 7

A/N: Listen, I edited this when I was pretty tired.... I also wrote this when I was pretty tired... But prepare for overall angst and some Eskel Fluff!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: A new visitor comes to the Keep... and they bear ill tidings.

Chapter 8

_________________________________________

It was a few days after your big talk with the guys that you all were gathered around the dinner table once again. Everyone's body was sore from doing constant construction and you’re pretty sure you've developed the white lung from all the mortar dust you’ve been mixing. 

“How does Vesemir do this all year?” You asked with a cough, surprised that it didn’t come with a puff of dust too.

“I don’t know, but I sure don’t envy it,” Eskel remarked as you took a seat beside him, sliding in until your legs touched his. “You know what's for dinner?” 

You shook your head, “No, but I hope it's something warm… The snow is starting to stick to the ground now and I don't particularly care for the cold.” You huffed in mild annoyance; winter had finally started rearing its ugly head and you were already tired of it. 

Eskel only raised his eyebrow as he looked over at you with an expression that seemed to say ‘really? You’re kidding.’

You nudged him and rolled your eyes playfully, “I mean- If I don't have to deal with the cold I don’t want to. Besides, I think magical cold hits a little differently.” you commented with a shrug.

Geralt raised his hand in a wave as he came over to sit across the table from you both. He also looked a bit tired and maybe bored; you couldn't blame him, this kind of labor isn't exactly on par with their usual work and was probably a lot less exciting than dealing with even the slowest drowner.

“Hey Geralt, do you know what’s for dinner tonight?” You asked him as he brushed away some rubble camouflaged in his hair. 

“No, but I hear it’s Lambert’s night to cook so… warn your stomach.” He said with a bit of a smirk. 

“Stop exaggerating!” Lambert yelled from the kitchen, his Witcher hearing easily picking up on the conversation. “Gods you slightly undercook bear ONCE and everyone becomes a fuckin’ critic….” 

Vesemir came down to join you all shortly and Lambert brought out dinner, which admittedly looked pretty good, but you weren’t gonna give him the pride of telling him that in front of the others. 

Everyone had just started eating when violet light filled the room, stemming from the portal that had opened up across the room. It swirled, idle for a moment before a young woman with green eyes and ashen hair came tumbling through. She rolled onto the floor in her rush to get through and came to a stop just as fast, the portal snapping closed behind her. 

Geralt stood and immediately rushed over to her, “Ciri, what the hell happened?” He asked, arms immediately extending to help her up as his fatherly nature took over. “Y/n, go grab a medical kit…” He half asked half ordered as he looked at you with eyes that held worry, veiled thinly by his stony expression. 

You noticed she did have a sharp and bleeding cut laying just above her pant line, across her hip. Her legs and cheek were littered with other shallower scratches and slashes here and there. You nodded quickly and went off to grab the closest kit as Ciri held up her hand to try and stop you, but you were already gone. 

“I’m fine. Really… Just bruised up is all. Ah- “ She hissed through clenched teeth as she stood with Geralt’s help. “I’m alright, Geralt. I just need a minute.” She assured and sat down on the nearest bench. 

You came back quickly and opened up the kit on the table, cleaning up the open wounds before Geralt followed and bandaged everything up. Once he was satisfied and Ciri had had a moment to catch her breath the other witchers came over to excitedly greet their niece and squeeze about a hundred hugs into the small-framed woman. 

You hung towards the back of the pack as Ciri greeted all of the Witcher’s hellos with a bright smile, despite the obvious bruises she must’ve held below the skin. When they finally stepped back you were able to wave and greet her as well.

“Hello, Cirilla… It’s nice to see you again, I don’t know if you’ll remember me-” 

“Gynvael!” Ciri interrupted you as she exclaimed excitedly and grabbed your arm, pulling you in for a tight hug. 

“You… remember me…?” You looked around at the guys with an expression of mixed surprise and confusion. “Not even Geralt remembered…” 

Ciri sighed with a sense of relief as she finally pulled back and ushered you to sit next to her. “Well Geralt is already bad at  portals, but when we had made our way off Tir na Lia we got separated and I think he must’ve gotten a little lost in the stream between worlds and forgotten everything.” She explained with a nod before looking to you and smiling once again. “But I’m glad to see that you made it out… I’d been wondering about it ever since we left. I always worry about the people I have to leave behind in those worlds…” She stole a glance at Geralt as her tone became morose. 

“Well, I couldn’t have gotten out without your help. I managed to find Ihuarraquax and get a portal home… I mean- It would have been nice to know that I was looking for a fucking horse-”

“Unicorn…” Ciri corrected.

“- a fancy fucking horse.” you corrected further with a light chuckle. “But… thank you. Really.” 

Ciri nodded and smiled in response, patting your back gently- not unlike you had seen Geralt do time and time again. You see now why people instantly recognized them as father and daughter. 

“But speaking of the Wild Hunt…” She said, her words drifting off at the end, “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to everyone about. But first I’m absolutely starving- please tell me it wasn’t Lambert’s night to cook.” 

“My cooking is FINE!” Lambert retorted loudly, causing everyone to burst into laughter, immediately lightening the mood for the moment. 

The group drifted into a looser clump and Ciri had a chance to grab some dinner before another violet portal opened up this time, dispensing a dark-haired woman this time. Her complexion was more bronze than the others, her violet eyes like that of her portals, and the scent of lilacs and gooseberries that seemed to follow her as she walked past. 

“Good heavens… Geralt, I’m starting to understand your disdain for portals. Running through a good twenty or so in a row makes me more nauseous than that pheasant pie you tried to make me for my birthday three years ago.” She grumbled as she held her stomach, doubled over.

“HA!”  Lambert's voice rang out in vindication. 

“Alright, alright- Let's get back on track. Ciri, Yennefer, what happened?” Eskel asked, trying to settle everyone down again. Shortly everyone had taken their seats at the table, ears keen, and the two women could start to tell their story.

“So- I’ve been getting followed by the Wild Hunt lately and I worry that they’re beginning to catch up with me.” Ciri cut to the chase. “I’m lucky Yennefer was with me today or I might not have the head start I do. She opened series upon series of portals to throw them off, dropped me here at the keep, and then kept going to throw them off when they inevitably try to track us.” She shook her head and took a bite of dinner as Yennefer continued. 

“But I only had so much energy to make portals that I wouldn’t be surprised if they show up soon.” She explained with a sigh that teemed with weariness and burden. 

“And if we already have another fugitive,” Ciri pointed out, motioning to you now. “Then it's all the more reason for him to show up. Kill two birds with one stone and all that”.

All tensions were silent but strong around the table, and even you felt it pulling your shoulders tight. The expression the witchers had held grimaces or just plain, tight-lined expressions as you looked around. Everyone understood the gravity that a battle like this would cause- the Wild Hunt chasing you was one thing, but chasing Ciri? That was a whole other game that was bound to have numerous casualties.

“Well, with any luck we should have some time to prepare for whatever comes. Doubtful they’ll show up immediately after they were here just weeks ago.” Vesemir tried to assure with a nod. “But we’ll all take the proper precautions and start getting prepared, which Ciri of course will help oversee because I’m getting far too old for this shit.” He finished in a grumble. 

You almost jumped as Eskel’s hand found yours under the table, your brain having been too caught up in the noise of the situation to be aware. You glanced over at him, carrying a light smile despite your brows being drawn together in worry. You squeezed his hand gently, to which he responded in kind, both of you being able to ease some of the tension from your shoulders. Your head had swirled with events of the past, present, and future as you listened to Ciri- but the weight of Eskel’s palm in your lap now dispelled that foggy vortex for the time being.  

“As for the preparations-” Vesemir spoke up again, “Lambert, I want you on bombs. Eskel, you're on traps. Ciri, I want you to ensure the weapons and armor are up to standards. Add glyphs as you see fit.” He nodded to each of them, then turned to you, Geralt, and Yennefer. “Geralt, Yennefer, I want the two of you gathering as many reinforcements as you can- anybody whose willing to help is welcome. Y/n, you’ll be with me making as many potions as we can before time is up.” He directed to the rest of you, receiving nods all around. “Anyone who feels like they've finished early can help wherever else is needed.”

Dinner was fairly quiet for a while after that- only picking up when you introduced yourself to the sorceress known as Yennefer. But even that dwindled off into fewer and fewer words after a while. 

After dismissing yourself, you and your witcher made your way back to his room, hands held in one another as you quietly bumped shoulders. Softly, Eskel closed the door behind him and let out a sigh that could rival the weariness of Atlas himself as he carried the world on his shoulders. 

He ducked past you to light the room’s fire, granting the dim room a gentle warm light. 

“Eskel…” You whispered his name as you rested one hand on his shoulder. Your other hand came up slowly, with no sudden movements, to cup his scarred cheek. “Look at me..?” 

Slowly his feet shuffled, his body turning to face you now. Your palm pressed against his cheek, fingers extending naturally along the groves of his face. A content rumble vibrated from his chest as he turned onto your palm.

You couldn’t help the small smile that slipped onto your features as you watched him. Your thumb brushed over the corner of his lips with a loving touch, going over the notch in his smile an extra time or two. 

“I can see you're overwhelmed, Eskel. You carry it in your shoulders- we both do…” you spoke to him, with a voice that was as tender as the night was quiet. 

He let out another breath and tried to relax his shoulders once again, even if he knew it was a temporary fix. 

“It’s okay if you can’t push it all away right now, I know I won’t be able to either.” You used your hand to bring him down a little closer to your level and rested your forehead against his.

“You shouldn’t have to be the one consoling me right now.” His low voice rumbled out, but he made no move to pull away- instead, he brought his hands to now rest on your hips.

“Eskel..” you frowned slightly, “don’t think like that. I’m going to be here for the times that you need someone, okay? Just like you've been there for me this whole time”. You looked down as you reflected for a quick moment, “and I’m eternally grateful for that. I know I’ve been rather… slow moving with things like- well, like this.” you said and motioned between the two of you. “But you never stopped standing beside me, holding my hand, even with all of my confusion and lost memories. Hell- you still held my hand when I  admitted to being a rider of the hunt. A murderer! A raider!”

“Y/n, no-” Eskel tried to interrupt, but you laid a finger across his lips, shaking your head.

“I won’t deny it, Eskel. Willing or unwilling, I recognize what I did… But that's beside the point- You’ve been so patient ever since you met me and I-” You paused again a moment, finding courage instead of words this time. “If all goes well when the Hunt comes… If it’s okay, I’d like to walk the path with you come springtime, just as you've walked my journey with me- hand in hand.” Your cheeks blazed with heat and color as you confessed to him your hopes of staying by his side. 

Eskel’s face was wrought with surprise and a genuine full smile, his shoulders even easing into their natural relaxed position as he became momentarily distracted by all that had just come before. “Y/n, I- Well, I mean- Uh… can I kiss you?” He somewhat sputtered out, his thoughts moving faster than his mouth could.

You broke out into a quick bout of laughter, shocked by his question, and nodded, your forehead still against his. “As long as it's a yes, then, of course, you can,” you replied, barely getting the last few words out as Eskel’s lips pressed firmly against your own. Your slightly chapped winter lips met the same as your breaths mingled for moments that you wouldn’t have traded the world for. 

He had a small smile now as he pulled back, still close enough that your noses just brushed together. “I would love to have you on the path with me, Y/n….” he spoke, leaning in for one more quick and chaste kiss before he fully pulled back. “You have more than enough training to hold your own against most monsters and you're smart enough- and determined enough- to figure out how to handle the rest for sure.” He laughed a bit, looking down as he captured your hand in his. “I’m… I’m excited not to walk the path alone anymore, admittedly.” He brought your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles as well, seemingly needing to get out some of the physical affection he’d been holding back.

A lightness sparkled in your eyes as you watched him and you couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled in your throat. “Me too…” You let your thumb caress his cheek once more before dropping your hand back to your side, “let's lay down now… our worries can wait until morning.”

You and Eskel went about your nighttime routine like any other night, only this time with more grazes here and there as you two bumped into each other's paths- just as you had that fateful day.

________________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @weaponizedvirtue @madamemelancholysstuff

Wanna be added/taken off the taglist? feel free to DM or ask!

#Ciri makes an appearance!! #gosh i love her #hehehe i love seeing you and eskel be all sweet and stuff when the wold is coming down around you. #its cute #eskel #Witcher Eskel #eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #angst #a bit- in a general sense #eskel imagine #the witcher 3 #the witcher #game eskel #Lambert gets picked on and gets vindication #the witcher fanfiction #The witcher fic #witcher self insert #Self Insert

[bravo4iscool]

slayweek prompt #2

i‘m sorry i‘m only posting this now but i was so busy😭 (that‘s also the reason why the end is complete utter shit)

i hope you like this anyway tho lol

#2: smut (slayweek2024 by @slayshipweek2024)

(masterlist | slayweek 2024 masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

“We’re on base Clay.”

“I know. But you can keep quiet for me, no?” He smirked as he locked the door to whatever room he pushed his boyfriend into.

In a matter of seconds their lips were clashing, hands grabbing each other. They knew they weren’t supposed to do this but they just couldn’t keep to themselves.

Clay needed Sonny. Now.

“‘m not gonna fuck you here,” Sonny mumbles against Clay’s lips while his hands slip under his boyfriends shirt, stroking the delicate skin with his calloused fingers.

Clay smirks, pulling back. “I figured.”

Then he sinks to his knees, looking up at Sonny with hooded eyes. Sonny bites his lip with an effort of not letting a moan slip out. He knew Clay wasn’t peticulary a fan of blowjobs so this was a rare moment.

“Keep quiet and no one’ll notice we were gone,” Clay smirks as he palms Sonny’s growing erection over his pants. “You can do that, right?”

“As long as I can make you scream once we’re home.” Sonny shudders when Clay starts to unbuckle his belt to pull his boxers down just enough.

“Deal.”

When Clay’s hand finally wraps around Sonny's throbbing erection the Texan needs to bite his lips so the moan won’t slip out.

Slowly Clay places a kiss on the top of his boyfriend's cock, enjoying the way Sonny was trying to keep his composure. Clay knew the effect he had on the older one and he was feasting on it.

Once he was sure he teased Sonny enough Clay slowly took his boyfriend’s cock in his mouth, inch by inch. Sonny wasn’t necessarily big but thick and gritty and had Clay choking a fair share of times.

“Just like that,” Sonny lets out a breathy whine, his hand finding its way into Clay’s hair. He can feel the blonde one smirking around his cock.

With one hand Clay frees his own cock slowly stroking it while bobbing his head up and down Sonny’s, the nails of the Texan’s hand scratching his scalp.

Sonny bites his lip so hard it‘s almost bleeding and his hand cramps when Clay starts to use his hand together with his mouth. „Continue like that and soon the whole base‘ll know what‘s going on here,“ Sonny chokes out, throwing his head back against the wall.

Clay only looks up at him with hooded eyes, speeding the movement of his hand on Sonny‘s cock and his own up. He was so close.

Sonny‘s hips were bucking and twitching and Clay knew, he was close to practically shoving Sonny down the cliff of his pleasure and the knot in his own abdomen was tightening.

A low moan managed to escape Sonny‘s lips, „‘m close Clay.“

And that was Clay clue to fasten his movements once again, doing his best to keep his strokes on his own cock steady. When he felt Sonny‘s cock pulse against his tongue he relaxed his jaw even further, swallowing the cum of his boyfriend like he should.

When his orgasm rocked through Sonny his hand pulled at Clay‘s hair, his teeth digging into his lower lip. He was so close to letting out a low, dragged out moan but he managed to keep himself under control.

When Clay pulls away he feels himself spilling into his own hand, biting his hand to muffle his moans.

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #seal team #seal team paramount #clay spenser #max thieriot #aj buckley #sonny quinn #slay #slay week 2024

[ali-annals]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Cardigan AU Part 2 Master Masterlist

Jasonette, Chapter 1/2, ~7k?

Marinette rushed from her last class to her locker.

The teeming crowds of students milled around the suddenly full hallways, pulling her closer to her goal. Her boyfriend often left little notes or clues to gifts, and it always brightened her day to find a loving surprise. How he knew her locker code, she didn’t know, but brushed it off (she’d certainly acquired dubious skills for stupider reasons than giving her SO a gift).

There was nothing there today, but when she slammed it shut she turned and walked into her boyfriend.

“Hey, Pixie. Ready to go?”

She groaned. “Nooo. I have to work on my Lit essay.”

“I can help; whatever you need.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the quiet library, seemingly empty except for the rows of books and the librarian, Ms. Blue. She nodded familiarly at them and went back to her computer as they disappeared deeper into the library’s abyss. Finally, they stopped at a table and Marinette dumped her things on its surface.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

About an hour after they began working on their homework, Jason got up to find a book for references. A few minutes later, Marinette noticed he still hadn’t returned, so she decided to stretch her legs and go look for him. After scouring several rows, she finally heard a thump behind her. The trail of thumps led her to a corner of the library, where Jason was waiting with a smug grin.

“You did miss me.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I have to keep a very close eye on you when we’re in a library or bookstore. I couldn’t wait too long or I mayn’t have seen you ever again. Like that time I lost you at the B&N.”

“Mayn’t?”

She punched his (stupidly solid) arm. “It’s an uncommon contraction that should be used more.”

“I’ll tell the world to start, then. We should make a prank on Twitter.”

“Oui, good idea! No one will know it’s us trolling them, and you can share your bizarre stories and explain your unusual skills.”

“What bizarre stories?” He followed her back to their table, setting up a new Twitter account on his way.

“Um, my ex-girlfriend possessed my other ex, for one. That time you met a civil, agreeable demon, for two…you are a mysterious person, Jason Todd.”

“Thank you, I try to be as cryptid-like as possible. What shall we name our crack account?”

“Um…our names combined make “Janette”; Janette can be the mod. For the handle, how about…Janette@pothamcrack. Yeah. And before you ask, Paris + Gotham equals Potham.”

“Great. Here, our first official tweet. Janette@pothamcrack says: ‘Mayn’t’ is an underused contraction. Use it more, cowards’.”

“Perfect. Can you make everyone we know that’s verified follow us so more people are subjected to our crack and insanity?”

•○•○•○•

Jason knocked on Marinette’s door. There was a brief flurry of activity, then she opened it enough to stick her head out.

“Heyyy, Jay. You’re early!”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked, faux-offended.

“No, of course not…come in. I just gotta…”

“Why is there blood on your sweatshirt? Are you hurt?”

Jason carefully circled her, gingerly trailing his hands over her body to check her reactions. When he reached her lower left ribs, she only winced once, very quickly, but he caught her reaction and yanked her Gotham Knights sweatshirt up a couple inches. Her hand grabbed his wrist tightly, preventing him from moving.

“Oh, sorry, Pix. I…should’ve asked first.” He felt quite remorseful, knowing she hated showing skin, though he didn’t know the reason why. But if she was hurt and hiding it, and bleeding…“How badly are you hurt, Pix? Do you need me to take you to the clinic?”

Marinette looked down. “I’m fine, it’s just a scratch,” she mumbled quietly. “I was just gonna change, you don’t need to worry.”

Now Jason was really concerned. Why was she hiding it? If it really wasn’t bad, she’d show him as proof, like that time he thought she chopped her fingers off (in hindsight he may have panicked a bit, but she was his girlfriend and he was terrified of something hurting her) and she immediately showed him the barely-visible nick on her finger.

He gently tilted her chin up to face him and started directly into her blue eyes.

“Marinette, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m worried about you. I understand if you don’t want me to see, but can you tell me what happened, at least?”

She dropped her gaze again, though it could only reach his callused hand this time, and inhaled sharply, then winced again.

“I was lightly stabbed from an attempted mugging, but I’m fine! It’s just a scratch! I’m sorry for worrying you. I was just gonna get a bandaid; it’s not that deep.”

“Stabbed and mugged? Marinette Wendy Dupain-Cheng Stone, why didn’t you tell me?!”

She jerked her chin out of his hold and glared at him. “Because I don’t need to answer you. I’m an adult and I can take care of myself just fine, thank you. If you don’t trust my judgement, then you obviously don’t respect me and you can leave me to my first aid.”

“Woah, Pix. I-” Jason stopped and took a deep breath.

“Okay, clearly you have some things we should talk about, but first, you’re right. I’m sorry. We can talk about this after you get first aid. I don’t have to watch, but I’m staying until we talk this stuff out, Marinette.”

Marinette headed to the bathroom where her closest first aid kit was and began unpacking it to search for the things she needed.

The door shut in Jason’s face with a decisive click.

He sat across the hall, leaning against the wall and talking to Marinette. She didn’t reply, but she didn’t chase him out or tell him to shut up, either, so he took it as a win.

Finally, the door opened and Marinette stood in the doorway, just looking at him.

Jason slowly got to his feet and scanned her up and down, just in case she’d bled out in the bathroom and was now a zombie or some other supernatural revenant his brain cursed him with imagining.

She’d left her sweatshirt off and was just in a white tank top, bloodstained on the lower left side (thankfully less blood than his traumatised brain helpfully made him think of), and her jeans. His eyes landed on her arms, which she usually had covered by a sweater or hoodie (usually one of his).

Scars of various sizes and shapes littered her arms and what he could see of her chest. She’d told him that everyone was healed and brought back to life, but he’d thought it was completely healed, not left with scars.

A sudden flash of insight hit him and he blinked, then moved across to hug her gently. “I’m glad you’re not seriously hurt. Are you in pain? Do you want me to get a pill?”

“One small slice does not constitute pain, Jason.” She was avoiding his eyes again, he noticed. He much preferred those pretty blues looking at him, not away from him in shame or pain or anger.

“I understand.”

Which hurts more, A or B? Forehand, or backhand?

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I didn’t…when you told me about Hawkmoth and Multimouse, you obviously toned it down a lot.”

Marinette realised he had picked her up and they were now in her kitchen, where he perched her on the island and began making her a mug of tea. Oh, she realised. He’s not just talking about the mugging.

Her lips quirked up a bit as she watched him move around her kitchen familiarly.

Jason handed her her favourite mug and leaned against the counter beside her.

“Are you okay, besides the 'light stabbing’?”

She glared at him over the rim of her mug, but it lacked heat. “Yeah, it was only an attempted mugging. The dude was following me so I ducked into an alley and when he 'caught’ me, I let him get close enough to stab me and then I grabbed his wrist, kneed him, and put him in an armlock. The stab was simply a tactical sacrifice. Then a nice cop drove by as I was zip-tying him, so I let him take the guy into the station. His name was, um, Dick Grayson, I think? He had similar features to you…anyways, yeah, I’m fine, you worrywart. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier, I just…I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry. You were just worried but it reminded me of some situations in Paris and I reacted disproportionately.”

“I forgive you, Pixie. Can you tell me what part of what I did and said reminded you, so I can work on that?”

“The…well, it wasn’t really anything. I’m just always on guard because I had to fight for people to trust me so much, and my ex-partner was…always crossing lines and I was always explaining things I shouldn’t have had to. You were just asking out of worry, but I immediately jumped to you trying to back me into a corner. It’s not something you have to work on,” she snorted bitterly.

As she spoke, Jason picked up her free hand and began running his fingers over her arm soothingly. Marinette suddenly realised what he was doing and focused on the shapes. He was slowly tracing stars around every single mark and scar on her arms. Eventually, he reached her shoulder and left his arm comfortingly across them. She snuggled a little closer and they drank their tea in cosy silence.

○○○○○○○

To Kiss in Cars and Downtown Bars

Jason flipped through the security feeds from his office in the Iceberg Lounge. A familiar face at the back of the line to get in caught his eye. Why…

He changed out of his Red Hood gear into his usual outfit of jeans, a T-shirt, and his leather jacket (different from his RH jacket), then snuck out the door.

•○•○•○•

Marinette jumped as a large, warm hand was put over her mouth. She hadn’t heard anyone coming, but they were awfully brave to attempt…whatever…in full view of the bouncers a few metres ahead. She made eye contact with one but he completely ignored her!

Now Marinette was more annoyed at the bouncer’s incompetence than the person behind her!

“It’s me.”

She whirled around. “Jay? What’re you doing here?”

He plucked her ID from her hands (thanks to Fluff and Trixx, she had a passably legal ID) and examined it.

“Not bad. C'mon.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the Lounge. A passcode later, they were in the dark hallway leading from the club’s fire exit.

“Here.” He handed her a metal bracelet. “It tells people to back off, you’re under the owner’s protection. You also won’t have to pay.” He pointed to his matching bracelet. “Maybe you’ll tell me why you’re trying to enter a club?”

She strolled over to the bar, him following closely as usual.

“I’m legal in Paris. Apparently, I have the worst luck. My old class is coming on an exchange in a couple months so they can tour some American universities and experience the American high school system. The problem is, they all think I’m dead - a strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Mood. Can’t you…avoid them? Hack the system and become part of the class going to Paris?”

She chugged half her drink, impressing him, and shook her head.

“Most people in Paris think I’m dead. Paris is bad for me…all the memories…and I was asked to be a translator if there are any issues and because I’m a helpful person who still hasn’t learned to say no, I said yes! Although, I didn’t know it was my class until the details were sent after I already agreed.”

“Oh…that is a problem. I’m also fluent in French, could I replace you or at least help you?”

“I’ll talk to Mr. Patel, he’s organising it, but that should be okay. We can continue Janette’s crack—they’re so idiotic sometimes, and yet they can be so brilliant others, I really don’t understand it.”

“I can’t wait to meet them. And um, maybe don’t chug your drink without eating something?”

“Right. Want to dance?” She held out her hand. He took it and kissed the back, spinning her away from the counter.

“Sure.”

After a couple dances and a close call with a tipsy patron, they headed to a quiet corner, where Marinette dissected outfits and rated style with Jason, who knew a surprising amount about fashion. She supposed he’d heard more than one of her rants/lectures and picked stuff up.

Around midnight, Jason’s phone buzzed and he sighed.

“Hey, Pix, I gotta go. Can I bring you home first?”

“Sure. Did you bring your bike?” She followed him outside, her hand still in his.

“Nah, I borrowed a friend’s car because I had to transport stuff earlier.”

He led her to a sleek black car and opened the door for her. When he crossed the hood to get to his side, she leaned over and opened the driver’s door for him and smiled sweetly.

The drive to Jagged’s penthouse, where she was currently living until her parents finalised closing the bakery in Paris and joining her in Gotham, was quiet, broken by her soft humming of random song snippets.

“Thanks for the fun evening, Jay. I was so bummed about them coming, but you cheered me up.”

Marinette leaned over and kissed Jason’s cheek before she got out of the car, but he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her back for a longer, proper kiss.

“Night, Pix. Have sweet dreams, maybe of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she giggled and waved him off noncommittally. His ego would be too big if she told him she often dreamed of him.

•○•○•○•

Marinette sighed at Tikki and Wayzz for the fourth time.

“I know I should, I just don’t want to. Why can’t I live in denial a little longer? He treats me like a princess.”

“Marinette, this is the third time in three weeks that he left your date early with no explanation. This won’t be healthier for you in the long run if you keep denying it,” the ladybug kwami advised.

“I’m just tired, Tikki. Aside from the dates and being even more selective about what he tells me about his family and life than I am, it’s great! I didn’t want a busy, dramatic year. Can I seriously not just leave it a little longer?”

“Guardian, there is a difference between being patient and understanding, and letting everything slide because you don’t want to confront someone. There is a possibility he just doesn’t know how or when to bring some of these things up, so just try talking to him,” said Wayzz. “If that does not resolve anything, then you can consider what to do after that.”

“And as for the 'no drama’ you want, ignoring all of this is only adding to it,” Tikki interjected.

Marinette huffed a breath of hot air and crossed her arms petulantly, knowing the kwami were right. “Fine. I’ll ask him to meet me later.”

○○○○○○○

Peter Losing Wendy

“I think we should break up.” She looked him in the eye as she stabbed him in the heart with those dreaded words.

“Why?”

He knew it was for the best, it would keep her safer, but he’d hoped…if she wanted it, he would let her go, taking his heart with him, as he ignored the urge to hold her and never release her.

“You can’t explain those weird texts and calls and disappearances, and you’ve been late or left early with such plausible excuses…I can’t…it looks like Adrien 2.0. And believe me, I don’t want to think that, but …call it PTSD or whatever, you’re so hot and cold. You keep me at arms’ length for so many things, and then you turn around and you’re the warmest, most perfect boyfriend I could want. You’ve got this way of telling me everything, but it’s nothing at all…all an illusion. I just, I can’t do this again. It’s not fair to either of us. Gotham has been better to me than Paris, and I’m going to fight with everything this time.“

…And now she was taking his shattered heart with her.

“I asked you to come so we could talk about it, try and figure this out, but you cancelled last-minute, again, Jason. Once or twice I understood, but now it just feels like you’re avoiding me, or at least avoiding opening up to me. I’m just…done. I can’t ignore all of this anymore, and I’m tired.”

He couldn’t do this to her. He’d seen how scarred she was after Multimouse. Now, as an ordinary civilian with loads of PTSD, he wouldn’t risk hurting her anymore, repeating Parisian mistakes.

He swallowed. “I’m sorry, P-Marinette.” He turned to leave, blinking rapidly. “If you’re in trouble, call me. I’ll still come.”

As he turned to shut the door his eyes met hers.

Both pairs were overflowing.

“Goodbye, and good luck.”

The door closing behind him sounded like a sentencing being put into effect.

•○•○•○•

She didn’t go to school for two days, choosing to curl into a ball and cry instead.

When she’d first enrolled as Marinette Stone - courtesy of Jagged and Penny helping her set up a new life in his hometown - everyone had been trying to get to know the other new transfer student, Jason.

She’d snubbed him, wanting her final school year to be drama free, and he’d laughed.

Thus began an academic rivalry, and everyone thought they were sworn enemies from the cold way she’d greet him in the halls. For his part, he was warmer to her than anyone else, which confused her, but she wrote him off as a masochist.

But thanks to meddling from Mrs. Perez, who paired them up on a very important assignment, they became sworn besties instead, which led to dating. They kept it quiet, finding that trolling the entire school was hilarious to them, as well as the disappointed look in Mrs. Perez’s eyes when at the end of the assignment, they were still rivals and not in love (yes, Mrs. Perez was the biggest Marison shipper).

Jason picked up one of her design scribbles and looked at the hand-lettering she’d done when she was bored in class.

“Your name is Marinette Wendy Dupain-Cheng?”

“Yeah, so?”

“We’re Peter and Wendy! My full name is Jason Peter Todd.”

“Didn’t they end up not together?”

“… Right. Well… You’re petite, so you can be Tinker Bell then.”

She hoped her face conveyed her scepticism. “Tinker Bell? A pixie?”

He ignored her and exclaimed, “Pixie it is!” happy to finally have a nickname she didn’t hate or have bad connotations with.

Marinette cried even harder at the memory. They hadn’t ended up together, after all.

○○○○○○○

I Knew You (Marked Me Like A Bloodstain)

The tell-tale swish of a grappling hook being deployed caught Jason’s attention from where he sat on the roof’s vent, swinging his legs as he surveyed his empire’s capital, Crime Alley. He rolled backwards off the vent and faced the Dark Knight, tensing for an altercation, whether verbal or physical.

“What do you want, B,” he snapped, annoyed his depression session had been interrupted by the partial cause of the entire mess he was moping about right now.

Batman didn’t move, signifying he wanted to talk right now, not fight.

“You haven’t been around in either capacity lately, and you didn’t respond when Nightwing texted you earlier, either. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Angrily, Red Hood turned on Batman with a growl. “As you can see, I’m out, so I’m perfectly healthy. You don’t need to check in on your wayward soldier personally. You only care that I’m fine so that you know if you can call me to help on missions and I’ll come running back like a dog when you whistle. Just because I’m working with you more doesn’t mean I’m one of your little clones who only exists to be useful to you; I have my own life and I don’t have to answer to you about any of it.”

“Hood, where is this coming from?” Batman truly sounded bewildered. “I was only checking on you because I care about you. I care about your health and functioning because I care about you.”

“Well maybe you care too much, B. You’re constantly calling me out on missions and that’s about the only time you contact me, unless Agent A requests it. If you actually care about me as a person, if not your son, you’d ask to see me outside of the mask, but you haven’t, which leads me to my previous conclusions. I’m taking a break from all of your messes. If you need my help, don’t contact me, and clean it up yourself. I’ll be back when I’m back—if I’m back. And don’t snoop!”

Hood jumped off the roof and landed on a fire escape, using parkour moves to slide down railings, and assassin-training to evade Batman’s close tail. Eventually, Batman gave up and Hood moved out of the shadows to mope back in his Bat-proof apartment.

•○•○•○•

Chasing Shadows (in Grocery Lines)

Red Hood angrily yanked the knots tight on the goons’ restraints. He knew the Untitled were in Gotham, but why? Besides the obvious (to kill him), of course.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he followed it carefully. He snuck up behind the faux-Catwoman and hissed, “Who are you and why are you here?”

“…Catwoman, of course. You know cats, curiosity kills us.”

Convincing.

She acted similarly to Selina, but she was… off. Wrong inflection, similar mannerisms but they were too forced, the suit wasn’t pure black like Selina’s (it was black with grey accents), no purr…

“No, you’re not. Catwoman and I have a bi-monthly feline petting session where we complain about Batman, so I’ve spent enough time with the Sirens to know you’re just… Uncanny Valley Catwoman.” He waved his hand at faux-Catwoman’s entire existence.

She hissed and her ears and tail twitched.

Were…they real?

“Look, I don’t want to fight you, but you’re making it hard. Don’t insult 'short’ people. It’s not our fault you’re trees.”

“I’ll stop saying things like that when you stop looking at me as if you want to climb me like one,” he retorted.*

Wait, faux-Catwoman, Bat-adjacent, flirting on a roof… NO! I’m not becoming Bruce!!

“I’m here because I think some of my trainer’s enemies are after me,” faux-Catwoman blurted in an attempt to change the subject.

Ha, he could still see her cheeks and neck warming.

“Who?”

“They’re a creepy old magic group called the Untitled. Ironic, I know. I don’t know much about them besides the fact that they’re incredibly evil, and they want my Miraculous.”

“Are you All-Caste too?” He didn’t think they had anyone left besides himself, but if they were travelling while the Untitled attacked, maybe someone escaped…

“What?”

“Nevermind. I didn’t know the Untitled had more enemies than my sect. I’m the last member; the Untitled wiped the rest of us out. I can tell you more about the Untitled once I finish my patrol, in 20-ish minutes?”

Faux-Catwoman nodded. “The gargoyle across from Drake Industries work for you?”

“Sure. What should I call you, by the way?”

“Onyx. Ciao!”

Twenty-three minutes later, Red Hood grappled up to his gargoyle, finding Onyx sitting beside it, casually swinging her feet as if she wasn’t 40 stories up and untethered.

“So, you like Freddy too?”

“Freddy?”

“My thinking gargoyle. You’re new in town.”

Onyx sighed heavily. “No, you’re just the first person to notice I’m not Catwoman.”

Jason sensed she needed to talk more so he employed his most effective interrogation technique, silence, and she began talking a moment later.

“This is Paris all over again. Do you know about what happened in Paris?”

Jason nodded and pulled out a granola bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and began eating as she continued.

“I was Ladybug. When I became Guardian of the Miraculous, I revoked my black cat’s ring. He’d been corrupted since he wasn’t a true black cat, and also from living in a house with the corrupted butterfly and broken peacock Miraculous. His dad was Hawkmoth, though he didn’t know that, and he was my boyfriend as a civilian. Turns out he was cheating on me with my bully per his father’s and my bully’s manipulation.

“I used the Miraculous of Multiplication to become Bugmouse and Catmouse, and when I got the Miraculous from Hawkmoth, I put them away.

"My uncle helped me move here to start afresh… in Paris, everywhere I went, there were memories… And most weren’t happy. When I came here, life was great… I didn’t think I wanted another boyfriend but I did get one… And now I’ve broken up with him. He was perfect, and I was waiting for the imperfections, but… It turned into Paris II: Electric Boogaloo. He would disappear randomly, and it seemed like he was waiting till I was busy so I wouldn’t notice. I followed him once because he’d left something behind, but it was like he knew I was tailing him and he lost me. He never introduced me to his family — he said they were semi-estranged, but I can’t help wondering…

"So I grabbed a Miraculous and became Onyx; beating up bad guys is better than therapy, y'know? I just didn’t expect to be traced by the Miraculous’s signature by the Untitled.

“And now Gotham is becoming Paris,” she finished with a heavy sigh. “At least to me.”

After another silence, she gasped quietly. “I’m sorry for monologuing on you, you just felt… like a comrade, maybe? You give off safe vibes, anyways.”

The more she talked, the more she solidified his suspicion that Onyx was Marinette.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Onyx.” He didn’t want to say anything else, partially out of guilt, and partially to stop himself from explaining everything and throwing himself on her mercy and begging her to take him back.

“So, the Untitled?” Onyx cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, turning to see his (masked) face a bit better.

“Right. The Untitled are millennia-old evil sibling magicians who got their power from a well of evil. There are only eight members of the Untitled, but they are very old and powerful. They were enemies with the group who trained me, the All-Caste, and killed them all. They can’t be killed by normal means, but I have the All-Blades, which can defeat them. Do you have anything that can harm them, do you know?” Hood asked.

“I suspect the ‘Cataclysm’ power and perhaps ‘Clout’ or ‘Uproar’, and though I’d prefer not to test it in battle and find I’m wrong, I don’t know how else to confirm my hypothesis.”

“Then how about you stay in the background while I take on the Untitled with the All-Blades, and when there’s an opening you try your hypothesis?”

“I can do that. When are we going?” He asked her.

“Sooner rather than later, I think. When can you-”

“Okay, give me ten minutes,” Onyx interrupted. “I’ll get my Miraculous and meet you at the warehouse at the edge of Gotham, in the westernmost part of the Tricorner Yards. You can lure the Untitled there or something, right?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Ten minutes average or ten minutes on the dot?”

“On the dot. I have a very precise Miraculous.”

“…okay. See you in 10, Onyx.”

•○•○•○•

Ten minutes later, Onyx appeared in the shadows of the warehouse, where Jason was already in the middle of two Untitled, his glowing swords flickering in the dark and giving off an eerie vibe. The chill and sense of evil permeating the air didn’t help, either.

Onyx’s suit was now pure black, with thin stripes of red, magenta, and brown scattered around her suit.

“Cataclysm,” Onyx whispered and threw the ball of destruction at the Untitled on Jason’s rear.

The Untitled were now alerted to her presence and she moved swiftly from shadow to shadow. One began to approach her, and she instinctively activated the tiger’s power, ‘Clout’. The immense power from the magical punch knocked the being out, and Onyx turned her attention to the two Untitled who took the place of the previous duo already taken care of by Red Hood’s swords.

“Uproar!” she cried, hoping the power-disrupting ability would work on the beings as she tossed the circlet like a frisbee at them. Onyx breathed deeply in relief when she realised her powers did work on the Untitled and turned to face the remaining two, back to back with Hood.

They attacked at the same time, swirling black shadows with surprising speed, but Onyx had prepared a second Cataclysm and yelled “Jump!” at Hood as the Untitled reached them.

The Untitled almost crashed into each other and tried to stop themselves before they could collide. It was too late, however. Onyx and Hood jumped to the first level above them (superpowers handily granting them extra height), and watched as the same cataclysm turned both ghouls into nothing.

Hood exhaled jaggedly and turned to her. “You have some nice moves and those were some sick abilities!”

She grinned, a little winded from using three Miraculous at once, and replied, “You weren’t too bad yourself! Those swords sure are handy.”

“Yeah… Thank you for your help, Onyx. I couldn’t have taken them all down at once without you.”

She waved it off and swung down to the floor again. “It was my pleasure, I assure you. I’m thrilled one less group of weird power-hungry monsters is after my head.”

“If you want to team up for a night of regular vigilantism, that’d be cool. Or are you leaving, now that you’re safe again?”

“No, I’m here for another unforeseen amount of time,” she sighed, civilian life distracting her.

Hood didn’t want to have her dwelling on their breakup quite yet so he decided to distract her. “Hey, how’d you learn that flippy move you did back there? It was really cool.”

Onyx cheered up a little. “Really? Thanks. My uncle taught me, actually… I’d taken gymnastics for a couple years so I had a good base and then he built off that. I have a similar build to his daughter, so he taught both of us. I think you’d get along great… He does prefer a sword, but he’s still pretty handy with a gun.”

“Oh, maybe I’ve heard of him?”

“Uh…Slade Wilson?” Onyx asked hesitantly.

Deathstroke was Onyx’s uncle?!

“Your uncle is Deathstroke?!” he blurted.

Onyx chuckled guiltily. “Heh. Not by blood, my nonna just has a ton of connections with really strange people, and she introduced us a few years ago. He kinda adopted me, so I just call him uncle. Y'know, we only see each other a couple times a year. He likes to surprise me when he visits and keeps my skills sharp, so he usually makes sneak attacks. I’ve got a good eye for attempted assassinations thanks to it!” she said cheerily, rambling in her nervousness but somehow concerning him more.

Hood was a little more scared of Onyx after he learned that information.

Yeah, Talia al Ghul had adopted him, but she was less likely to come after Marinette just because she was dating her son. Also, he knew her.

Slade was protective of his children, even if he did nothing else as their father, and he was unpredictable.

Hood shivered and headed home chilled, looking over his shoulder a couple more times than he usually did.

•○•○•○•

Jason wandered aimlessly down the aisles, collecting items he remembered he needed and tossing them in his basket. Bread, yeast for when he was feeling less sad and went back to making his own, milk, oats, soap, bandages and ointment, coffee, chicken, ice cream.

He headed to the only checkout lane open and put his purchases on the conveyor belt. The bored and tired-looking young adult started soullessly scanning them while Jason rolled his eyes at a gossip rag loudly proclaiming Wayne family "news” on its cover.

He reached for his wallet and spun back to face the shadows. Slim, black hair, shadowy…Marinette?

He looked closer and grimaced at Cass.

“What are you doing here?” he signed, annoyance clear in his body language.

“Saw you going by and you looked sad, so I followed you. No one else knows,” she replied.

He frowned harder. “I’m fine. Just tired. And I told B not to contact me. I’ll talk to whomever of you I want when I want to, and I don’t want to talk to any of you right now,” he signed emphatically. “Thanks for checking on me, but I don’t need it.”

He turned back to the slightly bewildered-looking cashier, who had only seen him making gestures at the shadows, and rolled his eyes harder. Stupid Bats, always making him look foolish.

He grimace-smiled politely and handed over the cash, grabbing his bags and leaving immediately, feeling even more foolish for thinking Cass had been Marinette.

Marinette wouldn’t be near him willingly for a while. Clearly he needed to do something about that.

He’d been feeling more foolish in the past couple days than in the past couple years combined.

Marinette had told him she was a temp hero, Multimouse, and stayed in contact with her friends, who had been temporary and official heroes. She clearly still cared about them and knew they were heroes, yet didn’t act any differently. He could’ve told her his secrets, she would’ve understood and kept them, but he didn’t want to hurt her with them.

Well, if she was still friends with official heroes, she’d obviously weighed the risks and decided it didn’t matter. He should have let her choose in their relationship, too.

Marinette had good judgement (the only strike he had against that evidence was her agreeing to date him in the first place, but then again he’d always been a good actor out of necessity) and he trusted it, although he hadn’t really shown that.

Tired of waffling between should he talk to her/should he leave her in peace and never show his face in front of her again, he finally decided.

#cardigan au #ali writes #fic #dcxmlb #maribat #jasonette