#deathaunts

“ if all you wanted was my attention, you didn’t have to fight me for it. ”

the  city  hums  low  outside,    gotham’s  usual  chorus  weaving  familiarly  with  the  house’s  every  breath.    it’s  late  enough  that  the  world  has  settled  into  something  peaceful.    well,    almost.    as  peaceful  as  a  house  full  of  kids  on  the  tail—end  of  their  spring  break  can  manage.    the  movement  is  constant;    socked  feet  against  old  wooden  floors,     murmur  of  little  voices  drifting  from  upstairs,    laughter  hailing from  living  room.    so  much  life  held  within  modest  walls,    dick  tries  not  to  linger  more  than  necessary.    his  plan  is  usually  quite  simple    —    drop  by,    help  fix  a  busted  cabinet  or  faulty  plumbing,    maybe  run  a  few  errands  morrigan  doesn’t  have  time  for,    &&    slip  out  before  the  evening  settles.    it  is, however,   becoming  increasingly  self—evident  that  it is these  so—called  simple  plans  that backfire  most  frequently  in  his  own  face.    he  makes  a  surprised  noise  as  two  children  dart  past  without  warning,    forcing  him  to pivot  lest  he  knock  any  one  down.    a  call  instinctively  builds  in  his  throat,    alfred’s  voice  laced  along  phrase  he’s  heard  a  million  times  before, in his own youth    —    but  they’re  ‘round   the  corner  && vanished before  the  words  finish  forming.    he  heaves  a  sigh  instead,    head  shaking  faintly  as  a  small  smile  curves  the  line  of  his  mouth.    “    morrigan?    ”    he  shuffles  a  few  more  steps  until  he  can  peek  inside  the  kitchen.    steps  falter  when  he  sees  her,    heart  ticking  hard  in  his  chest.   

he doesn't expect concern. it's in short supply these days, too precious to be spared on a street urchin like himself. but even then, the height from which he's fallen into the open dumpster must have caused some sort of injury ... or so you'd think, but naruto rises from cardboard boxes and trash bags with a grunt that is little more than annoyed. " huh ? oh, i'm fine, " he answers easily, fanged grin response enough. he's sprung back from worse.

❝  so rude…  ❞   he can barely say the words considering the hand that’s pressed to his mouth. there’s an exaggerated look of terror in the face of the Star-Lord as if someone destroyed his latest headphones. does she have a point  ?   probably considering he’s been singing   &   humming the same d’ast song for over an hour, but this is the thing about Peter   :   when he becomes obsessed with a track, he loops it wherever possible. a sigh escapes him when Morrigan finally pulls away. at least, he did stop singing.   ❝  why do you hate happiness  ?    ❞

age: 25

do you like to cuddle?: if asked nicely

can we make—out?: absolutely

a night in or dinner out?: in, almost always

ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries: chocolate strawberries, obviously

what makes you a good valentine?: ...i'm hot

would you cook for me?: if you like stews, sure

would you let me cook for you?: yea

“ you’re a real teddy bear, spooky, y’know that? i don’t spend too much time inside, but a night in with you does sound tempting ... alright, i’m game. i’ll bring chocolate, wine && promise to be very nice. ”

it makes perfect sense if one’s not used to being arrested   &   thrown in jail like the Star-Lord is. unlike Rocket, he lost count years ago, but what matters is that he always manages to get out.   &     this will not be an exception. the legendary Master of the Sun himself, perishing in a stupid prison  ?   technically speaking, he could leave this place right in this moment. it’s only a matter of him using his powers, opening an inter-dimensional portal, flipping these guys off   &   jumping through.

&   yet, for one, Morrigan is being annoying.   &   two, he is on a mission.   ❝    i haven’t done shit, okay  !   why do you always assume i’m behind every frickin’ crazy thing that happens to you                        anyway, we don’t have time to discuss this.  ❞     Peter says, his voice carrying forward his exasperation perfectly. once they’re shoved behind bars   &   locked in, he waits a few beats before speaking again.

❝    don’t worry. i know what i’m doing. we’re here for information. i will bust us out whenever i get that. why don’t you, i dunno, try to TRUST me for a change  ?   god…  ❞

dread   scourged   the   atmosphere,   clouds   encumbered   moonlight   in   a   foreboding   of   what   could   happen   below.   echoes   of   late   kidnappings   haunted   an   already   plagued   city,   hollowing   its   streets   with   their   absence,   pulled   taut   with   suspense.   but,   when   commissioner   gordon   vanished,   monsters   were   incited   to   emerge,   and   even   allies   started   to   resemble   foes.

perched   on   a   gargoyle,   dark   shadow   mingled   with   stony   sentinels,   shrouded   from   the   men   entering   the   derelict   building   he   just   left.   fruit   of   chaos,   expelled   members   of   gcpd   rose   with   the   opportunity   to   warp   security   into   retaliation,   weaponizing   a   false   culprit   common   to   all   their   falls,   accountable   for   exposing   their   corruption:   the   bat.   the   militia   chased   his   cold   trail,   infiltrating   the   decaying   structure,   sprayed   fox   adorning   the   back   of   their   vests,   an   emblem   of   their   deeds.   yet,   a   presence   lurked   in   the   back   of   his   head,   beyond   peripheral   vision.   a   beat,   and   flash   pellet   collided   against   the   rooftop   behind,   blinding   mysterious   figure.   he   twisted,   lunged,   cape   fluttered   with   the   movement,   eclipsing   the   gauntlets   soaring   towards   them.   momentum   broke   in   the   wrong   direction,   fingers   clasped   around   lips   and   hair   instead   of   throat   &   arm.   voice   vibrated,   muffled   against   his   palm,   before   something   sank   in   his   hand.   the   vigilante   grunted,   grip   loosened,   but   didn't   release   the   woman   until   they   stumbled   to   a   wall.   once   more,   armor   had   shielded   flesh   against   teeth.  ❛   who   are   you   and   why   are   you   following   me?  ❜ @deathaunts

∞      . . .     𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃     ／     @deathaunts 

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄  𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓  𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃  𝐀  𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄  for  a  celebratory  occasion  such  as  Satoru  Gojō's  birthday,  candies  and  cake  alike  paled  into  utter  insignificance  beside  the  sweetness  of  her  lips.  A  man  of  demanding  nature  who  typically  kept  his  indulgences  short  and  sweet     —     an  ever-demanding  schedule  to  blame     —     he  refused  to  let  this  one  fade  too  quickly;  to  anchor  her  near  and  pliant,  his  fingers  splayed  generously  across  the  curve  of  her  waist.  

After  all,  a  day  in  his  honor  offered  the  most  perfect  pretext  to  surrender  to  his  deep-rooted  predilection  for  greed;  hence,  all  the  excuse  he  could  possibly  need  to  justify  the  pursuit  of  a  second  press  of  her  lips  the  moment  she  dared  to  part.