#I’m not tagging mob his appearance is brief

[bobbydabob]

I'm currently hooked up to an IV filled with your art PLEASE draw reigen arataka I will forever cherish it and probably cry no joke

Yah ok. I drew him like 5 months ago too but I didn’t save it I guess. I’m sorry anon

[buckets-and-trees]

SALT (Bucky x Reader)

Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k  Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.

Content Warnings: power imbalance; bribery; workplace manipulation; explicit language; NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT; explicit smut: risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).

tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917

“You’re not serious, Stanley.”

“I am.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”

“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”

When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him. 

You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”

“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters. 

You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras. 

There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table. 

“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.

“Thank you,” you replied. 

“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said. 

“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly. 

Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours. 

“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”

“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment. 

Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way. 

“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped. 

You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face. 

“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“

He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question. 

“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”

“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back. 

“Of course,” he responded.

You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”

You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you. 

“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”

You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched. 

He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you. 

His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter. 

“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips. 

“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you. 

Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…

“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.” 

“I can–“

“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”

“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.

“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.

“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you.  “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”

When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”

He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.” 

Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder. 

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”

He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel. 

For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer. 

He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him. 

He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”

His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”

And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort. 

His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy. 

You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.” 

He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”

He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers. 

You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering. 

“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure. 

Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted. 

“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted. 

Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements. 

You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release. 

He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”

Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him. 

You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest. 

He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again. 

“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word. 

LINK TO PART TWO: FAT

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[dearest-allure]

MARGARITA: Fallen from Grace

Los Angeles, early 2000s, after 2005

Tags: toxic dynamics, significant age gap relationship, angst, self-doubt

All I wanted to do was to act. I sacrificed a lot of things for this. Blood, sweat, and tears. Remembering those nights and gruesome set conditions.

Oliver once told me he would never let me down. That he would rather chase me to the ends of the earth than let me go.

Sunlight streaming through the window wakes me up with a start. I hold the sheets against my torso, careful not to take a tumble as I slip into the bathroom.

“You’re up early today.”

Berline comes prepared, as she always does. Armed with her earpiece and the usual tablet in hand, she hands me a cup of coffee.

At least she knows I take it with a little milk and no sugar. I take it with a nod and listen to her briefing of the day.

“Okay, we’ll head out now. The car’s already on the driveway.”

“Got it.”

Grabbing the bag I had been assigned to by the stylist, I tuck it on my shoulder and step out of the apartment, shoulders rolled back.

Berline had the door open and she’s waiting, as patient as she will ever be. I don’t waste any time.

“Make room!” One of the bodyguards tell the crowd, which continues to push back and I have to hurry inside the waiting car.

Cameras nearly shoved into the open door, though I am grateful for their quickness in closing it behind me.

“We will be there in about 40 minutes. In the meantime, here, I got your script for today.” Another list of questions. I skim through it, some have been asked repeatedly, as it mostly happens.

It should have been faster, but since I have an entirely different scheduled meeting the day before, we had to pick this hotel, for the sake of safety and distance.

Berline is busy with her phone, tapping fast and glancing at the iPad on her lap, screen illuminating her angular face. As it often is, the car ride is mostly silent.

“We’re here.” The driver halts to a stop, my designated agent-slash-manager announced. She is out in a flash, waiting for me a few steps ahead.

Again, we went through the mob of people, this time at least with a little space between us, with the makeshift fence set to separate the crew and the one with no pass cards, fans who came all this way, and media attempting to sniff any gossip.

“I missed you this morning.”

Oliver leaned to give me a kiss on the cheek, his demeanor seems calm today. My shoulders droop a little.

Secluded in the bubble of my trailer, we are allowed to be in each other’s company. He had arrived shortly after, must have been courtesy of Berline, feeding him information every second of the day.

“You left this morning.”

Leaning against the throw pillows on my nook, I stare ahead. There is a living area and a table where we sometimes eat. Last time, I recall it was Thai food.

“I’m sorry, Paloma, I had to. Work called.”

Head tilting back as he kisses down my neck, I let out a little sound of what, I’m not sure. Either pleasurable or annoyance. Somewhere in between.

Right as he starts to toy with the buttons on my shirt, a knock resonate through the door. Oliver hides his face on my chest, muttering something about 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴.

When Berline’s stern face appears and she sets to work, handing the script and waiting for me with barely concealed patience, I raise to my feet.

“I have to go.”

Oliver seems rueful, but he eventually let me go, though not before squeezing my wrist one last time. He, too, stands.

“Me either. I have to be home.”

𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦. Even if he talks about how his own marriage is past the point of repair, and that we might be able to be together in public sooner than expected, he always refers to them as his home.

“Oh.”

It’s hard to hide my disappointment. I guess even when my job revolves around ‘fake it until you make it’, I find it harder to hide my feelings when someone I have affection for is involved.

“I’ll see you.”

Before the door is closed, I steal another glance at him. He sits there, giving him that look. Filled with something dark and a touch of lust. I remember it, just like the day we first met.

Stepping into set reminds me to get my head back in the game. After all, it is what I have worked about most of my life for. I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this.

“Margarita! Ah, there she is. Alright, everyone, places!”

It ended in the morning. I gratefully accept the coat handed by one of the set assistants, tightening it around my shoulders. Berline is already waiting, looking like a hawk watching its prey.

“Here.”

Handing me a pair of glasses, which confused me, though I hold it, blinking, watching how she immediately turns her back on me. The last time she did this, I had been accused of being a politician’s side piece. Which raises the question, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨?

“Berline—”

Before the question can be given a voice, I soon realize the truth lies just beneath the surface. A mob of photographers stand on the fence, clearly would love to catch me at any possible ‘rock bottom’ moment.

“Margarita!”

“Can you share about your relationship?”

“Is it true?”

“I heard you’re dating the producer—”

“No comment.” Berline exclaims, fending them off with the bodyguards, leading her into the waiting car. Feeling numb, she keeps her head down.

. . .

“We decided to go a different direction with the casting.”

“Next time. We will keep you in mind for the next project.”

Then, the phone calls stopped. Sitting on her nook, she thinks about what happened. Maybe it has been a long time coming.

Margarita never had a lull in working projects. She jumped from one movie to another. At first it was soap operas, then a hit movie, before she knows it, she’s on a plane ride to LA. The city of angels.

Palm trees and beaches. Fake tans and practiced smiles. Camera flashes and microphones. There should be an award for all this ass kissing she had to dish out.

During all of this, the only lifeline she thought she has is him. The one who leaves her stranded.

Margarita picks up her phone and dials the only number she knows won’t judge her decisions.

“Hola!“ Catalina’s voice is cheeky as ever. There was shuffling, she can hear other voices, then a click and the background noise receeds.

“I need you.”

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[marvelfansince08love]

A Christmas Gift

Word Count: 4K

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader 

Warning: Smut 18+ (a little filthy, you’ve been warned) 

Enjoy my loves! Merry Christmas to you all, Mwah x

This is how I picture Cordelia’s dress later in the fic (may have gotten carried away so I’ll just go hide in a corner lmao)

Tagging a few of my loves💛 : @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @mssallymckenna @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @pearplate @r0an0ke @coconutlipss @minavenable @venablemayfairgoode @versonstar @veteranwerewolf95 @fandom-nsfw-things @saucy-sapphic @creepingwolfberry @nyx-aira @witchxaf @duchessfics @billiedeansbottom

A Christmas Gift 

The smell of freshly baked cookies and coffee travels from the kitchen as you take in the Christmas morning. Smiling softly as you pass the living room, presents stacked high around the tree that stands tall in the corner of the room ready for a certain well behaved boy; who continues to sleep peacefully unaware that the big guy in red has been and gone. Wrapping your arms around yourself, your smile turns into a huge grin when you take in the scene before you. Ally stands by the coffee machine as she pours coffee into her mug humming quietly to the well known Christmas song that plays from the speaker, Cordelia sways softly to the beat of the joyous tune placing the cookies onto the plate at the kitchen table. Leaning against the doorframe you bask in the image before you, grinning ridiculously when you take in their red and white pyjamas that match your own. Oz had insisted that this year you all wore matching pyjamas on Christmas day and you were not to change out of them all day, Ally had put her foot down about that last part. 

Cordelia notices your presence first, gazing over at you with her chocolate brown eyes so full of love as her lip twitches into a soft grin. You move away from the doorframe, tiptoeing quietly over to your blonde wife, pressing a kiss to her hair as you whisper into her ear, eyeing Ally who continues to tidy around the counter area still unaware of your presence with her back turned as the music blares from the speaker next to her. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.” Cordelia leans into you, a soft smile appearing on her lips. Her gaze meets yours as you nod over to your brunette wife, winking playful at the blonde as her eyes sparkle with mischief. Moving away from the witch, you move quietly over to Ally wrapping your arms around her waist holding her flushed against you, feeling her tense for a brief moment before relaxing into your familiar embrace. Propping your chin onto her shoulder, you turn slightly to press a delicate kiss to her exposed neck. 

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” You whisper close to her ear. She turns in your arms holding onto your shoulders as she pecks your lips, smiling widely against your mouth. 

“Merry Christmas, sleepyhead.” She teases, before turning back around and grabbing the freshly brewed coffee and the herbal tea, brushing past you playfully she places the tea in front of the blonde who sits at the kitchen table. She kisses the brunette in thanks, brown eyes locked onto brown for a moment a feeling of warm contentedness flows through the room as you watch the pair, your heart full at the sight. You are interrupted by the sound of loud thudding as smaller feet sprint down the stairs, making you share a knowing look with the two matching their grins. Oz sprints straight into the kitchen, his eyes bursting with excitement as his thick blonde hair sticks out in all directions, glasses slightly crooked perched on his nose. 

“He’s been, he’s been!!” He exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. Ally moves forward first wrapping her arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his blonde curls. 

“Wanna see what he’s left you?” She mutters into his hair making the boy nod excitedly before sprinting off in the direction that matters most. You smile into your mug basking in the smell of coffee early in the morning, as Ally races after the boy. Cordelia glances over to you a mischievous glint within her brown eyes as she saunters over towards you, eyeing her form you watch on in apprehension. The blonde witch flushes herself up against your side as she takes your mug grimacing slightly at the strong coffee smell, placing it onto the counter next to her. Her lips brush along your cheek before resting close to your ear. 

“I hope you enjoy your present, my love. I have to say it fits perfectly.” She purrs, before leaving a wet trail of kisses along your neck. Within a blink of an eye the blonde saunters off following the departed footsteps of your other wife and son. You gape for a moment, your brain trying to process her words as if you imagined them before shaking yourself out of your dirty thoughts and sprinting after your family. 

‘God I love Christmas,’ You thought wistfully, coffee long forgotten. 

***

You were never one for Christmas holidays, the idea of a big jolly fella in a red Santa suit delivering presents always seemed so ridiculous to you but as you sit curled up into the corner of the sofa with the comfortable weight of your excited son snuggled close to your side, you are thankful to have a new, more positive perspective on the day. With the wrapping paper now removed from the living room; per Ally’s request and presents neatly piled in the corner of the room, you all sit cozied up around the big TV, watching as the tall giant dressed in an elf’s costume runs around New York looking for his dad. Cordelia glances over to you from above Oz’s mob of blonde curls and winks smiling softly as she pulls Ally closer to her on her other side. The peaceful atmosphere is quickly ruined by the horrible sound of your cell phone, groaning as you gently remove the tired boy that is slumped against you, who automatically curls into Cordelia making your heart ache at the disruption. Grabbing the irritable phone from the table, you quickly answer the person who is intruding on your family time. Ready to give them a piece of your mind, you pause after hearing the sound of sobbing coming through the other end. 

“Katie?” You ask, frowning at her heart wrenching sobs. You feel Ally and Cordelia’s gaze on you as you remove yourself from the living room, confusion evident within their matching brown eyes. 

“Y/N, I- I’m so sorry f- for calling you. Oh my god why did I-i call you, it’s fine I can sort it,” Katie stutters between her sobs, scolding herself. Quickly moving into the hallway and away from tiny prying ears, you try to calm her. 

“Katie, dear. I need you to breathe for me so you can tell me what’s wrong, okay?” You instruct softly, you jump slightly at the light touch on your shoulder. Turning to see a frowning Ally who eyes up the phone in your hand, she mouths ‘is she okay?’. You nod reassuring her, squeezing her hand before turning my attention back to my business partner.  You hear her take a deep breath in before rushing out a very in depth story about how the business deal with Harrison and Co has fallen through and how she’s tried her best to regain their attention, even amending certain demands  on the contract but with no such luck. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I really tried to get them back on our side but..” 

“They want to talk to me.” You state, knowing exactly where she was going with this phone call the moment you picked up the phone. Your eyes lock with Ally’s as you watch her bite her lip, her eyes full of understanding but you know by the slight dip of her brows that she’s disappointed. Sighing tiredly you continue your conversation with Katie. 

“Are they there now?”

“Yes, they would like to discuss with you new terms. Again I’m really sorry Y/N.” She apologises, sounding like she is on the verge of tears again. You reassure her and tell her that you will be there within the hour. Ending the phone call makes you huff in frustration, the only thing helping you relax is the soft touch of your wife’s hands that cradle your face, her thumb stroking calming strokes against your cheekbones. 

“Baby I’m really sorry-” Ally shushes you softly, pecking your lips in reassurance understanding the importance of this deal. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do, baby. We’ll be here with some hot cocoa when you get back annnd my parents are excited to have Oz tonight,” She trails off suggestively, biting down on her lower lip with a quirked dark eyebrow. You match her grin, kissing her hard, appreciating her understanding nature. Wrapping your arm around her waist you pull her close and slowly make your way back into the living room, feeling your shoulders tense slightly when you see your two favourite blondes singing softly along with Jovie and Buddy. Cordelia glances over to you both noticing your tense posture and sadden eyes, due to her distraction from her duet with Oz the boy turns around curiously looking at you and Ally with his big brown eyes. 

“You okay, Mama?” He asks, his innocent voice making you melt at his concern. Moving away from Ally you round the sofa and crotch in front of the boy. 

“You remember that big business deal Mama and Aunt Katie were working on?” He nods along, remembering the many nights you and Katie would work rather late into the night, stacks of paper scattered around the kitchen table. “Well it seems the boys we were working with no longer want to and they are being a little greedy and wanting more… candy from us,” 

“That’s very greedy Mama,” He adds, agreeing with your analogy. You grin softly and you see the soft glint in Cordelia and Ally’s eyes as they sit either side of him. Brushing his messy mop of hair from his eyes you continue. 

“Yes, very greedy Ozzy. So, because the boys are being greedy, Mama needs to go and ask if the boys would like to play nice since it’s Christmas and all... I’m sorry Oz but I promise tomorrow I’ll pick you up from Grandma and Grandpa’s house and we can go down to Milton Hill and go sledging!” You promise watching as his eyes light with glee at the prospect. He sticks out his pinkie finger to you making you smile softly before proceeding to lock your larger pinkie with his sealing the deal. 

“Deal Mama! Can we ask if Jackson can come?!” He asks, his voice becoming louder with the excitement. You nod vigorously basking in his excitement and slightly relieved that you have such an understanding family. Luckily this is the first and will definitely be the last time you miss out on Christmas for work - deal or not. Reaching up to place a kiss on the crown of his head, you move over to your blonde lover, conflict still evident in your eyes, she gently grips your clothing and pulls you closer, your nose brushing softly against hers as she presses a delicate kiss to your lips. 

“Hurry up home, my love.” She whispers gently against your lips as you pull away, flustered by the intensity of her brown eyes as she eyes you lovingly. Clearing your throat you nod stumbling to your feet, as Oz giggles into Ally’s side at his blonde mothers mischief, you quickly press a gentle kiss to Ally’s temple on your way past, heading for your shared room to change. 

Once changed and with more kisses given you head out into the cold quiet afternoon ready to get your deal finalised and sealed, determined to get back to your wives before nightfall. Stepping into the car you glance briefly through the gap of the living room curtain taking in your family who are still in their matching pyjamas, wanting nothing more than to be snuggled amongst them. 

***

Stepping back through into your warm toasty home you sigh, finally relaxing. Placing the cold bottle of champagne onto the side table, you remove your coat and gloves shaking the small remanence of snow. Frowning at the quietness, you remove your boots and head for the living room taking the cold champagne bottle with you. You stop abruptly by the open door frame staring openly at your senator wife, who is currently lounged lazily over the single armchair, her legs hanging over the arm of the chair, her skin glowing a light orange from the burning fireplace beside her. A lovely shade of Christmas green lingerie on display for your eyes only, with a book in her hand she peeks over her page to take you in through hooded eyes before her eyes land on the loosely gripped bottle. 

“They accepted?!” She asks, her voice laced with excitement placing her book onto the small table stand next to her. She slowly gets up from her position and saunters over to you agonizingly slow as you both drink each other in. Your eyes darken the closer she gets, seeing how well the bra fits her breasts making them look exceptional against her chest. The contrast between the green material and her skin are undeniably pleasing, her dark brown hair that frames perfectly around her face tying up the view in front of you perfectly. Licking your lips hungrily you finally find your voice and reply. 

“They did, I thought we could celebrate.” You inform, tightening your hold around the neck of the bottle. She nods only half listening to you as she skims her fingers up your arm and towards your neck where she laces her fingers around your neck  keeping a tight hold of you actively pulling you closer to her. Brushing her lips across yours, she allows her tongue to leave a wet trail against your dry lips warming them from the bitter cold outside, you gasp at the warm touch. 

“Let me go and grab the champagne glasses, I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” She husks against your lips before sauntering away from you giving you a great view of her ass as she sways purposely. Fighting back a groan, you scan the room for any traces of your other wife knowing that the crafty witch wouldn’t be too far away from all the fun. 

“Delia is sorting out your Christmas gift, Oz left with my parents about half an hour ago,” Ally answers my non-vocal question, watching as a knowing glint shines bright in her dark eyes. You squint at the innocent expression that she gives you, knowing there’s more to her words. She chuckles lowly while taking a hold of your hand, transferring the bottle into her other arm, holding the three glasses in her hand. Your eyes darken further as you watch the curve of her ass with every step she takes leading you up the stairs. Ally stops by your shared bedroom door turning to wink at you before letting go of your hand.  

“Wait right here.” She demands, before sneaking into the bedroom shutting the door closed, leaving you no time to peek into the room that holds your Christmas gift. Not a moment later Ally comes back out, slightly breathless as you take in her blown dark pupils with a dirty grin she asks you the most important question. 

“Are you ready for your Christmas present?” She entices, coming to stand behind you placing her one hand over your eyes as the other pushes open the door, guiding you into the room you bite your lip in anticipation as you await for the darkness to unfold from your eyes so you can take in your surprise. Soft hands disappear from your eyes allowing you to open them at Ally’s soft instruction. 

Your eyes widen with lust as you take in the sight before you. Lying lazily on the bed with her back against the headboard, long blonde locks trail down over her covered breasts, is Cordelia. A short red bow tied teddy lingerie dress fits snugly around her body, the end brushing barely over the tops of her thighs as she grins straight at the pair of you, slowly bending both her knees spreading them apart given you a glimpse of her matching panties she beckons you forward with the crook of her finger. 

“Merry Christmas, Baby. Why don’t you go and unwrap your present?” Ally drawls into your ear, tracing the shell of your ear with her tongue making you shiver on the spot. You answer by removing your work clothes as quick as possible watching as Cordelia bites her lip in amusement at your enthusiasm. 

Now dressed down to only your underwear, you feel Cordelia’s heavy gaze drop to your breasts licking her lips hungrily. Before you advance forward you quickly turn and pull Ally flush against your body hearing her gasp at the sudden new position enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers, pressing a hard kiss to her lips you quickly pull back, eyeing her appreciatively. 

“As long as I get to ravish both my presents tonight,” You comment, a roguish grin appearing on your face. 

Ally giggles at your teasing demeanour before nodding biting her lip. Pressing a kiss to her neck, you turn back around and focus on your blonde wife. Keeping your eyes locked with hers you move forward slowly, taking her in from head to toe. Crawling onto your Queen sized bed you settle yourself in between her legs, placing your hands above either side of her head holding tight to the headboard. Bending down slightly you take her lips with your own in a delicate, slow kiss. Hearing her hum in satisfaction you deepened the kiss, bringing one hand down to grab hold of her breast, squeezing gently making her gasp. Her sudden gasp allows you to brush your tongue gently over hers, tangling them together as you continue to kiss sloppily. Pulling away slightly you look over your shoulder to see your brunette wife stalking around the bed, her eyes never leaving your entangled forms, you remove the hand that has found its place on Cordelia’s breast to entice her to join you. Her eyes brighten at the invitation, joining you both on the bed she lies on her side flushed against Cordelia as the blonde reaches over to capture the senators lips, the feeling of arousal settles low in your stomach at the sight beneath you. 

You move away briefly while they continue to make out, straddling Cordelia’s hip you finger the loose bowtie that keeps her breast hidden. Gently pulling at the material you watch satisfied as the bow becomes undone in front of you, revealing the swell of her breasts and perky nipples. Cordelia gasps as the cold hits her exposed chest, pulling away from Ally in the process who eyes her wife's’ breasts. With a similar thought process, you and Ally dive straight for the blondes chest taking a nipple into your mouth each and sucking delicately at the sensitive nub. Cordelia moans loudly into the lightly dimmed room, her hands instantly finding their place on top of your heads, keeping you both close as you lick and suck at the aroused nub. 

“Mmm, yes just like that.” She breathed, allowing her head to lean back against the headboard as she fidgets under you. 

You both continue to tease at the blondes chest watching as her breathing becomes more erratic, your hand skims down the side of her toned body feeling the material against your fingertips before reaching soft skin under the teddy dress. Removing yourself from her waist you settle in between her legs, your stomach pressed against her core making her rock against you harshly needing some friction as her arousal builds. You latch back onto her nipple as Ally moves to suck gently on Cordelia’s neck, her thumb brushing over the sensitive nub. Removing your mouth from her breast, you slither south pushing the material up towards her breast exposing her stomach. Placing wet kisses along her stomach you move closer to her wet spot, already smelling her arousal. Hovering close against her most needed spot you brush your nose gently against the offensive material before moving to focus on her inner thigh, nibbling softly at the skin before reaching for the panties sliding them along her toned legs wanting rid of the pair. You groan at the sight before you as you take in her already glistening pussy as she whimpers. 

“Baby, please. I need you.” She whines, before latching her lips onto Ally's, taking the brunette's bottom lip in between her teeth pulling a groan out of Ally. Satisfied with her pleads, you brush lightly over her slit with your tongue feeling her hips thrust upwards seeking firmer pressure. 

Pressing your tongue harder against her wet pussy, you continue to pleasure her with firm strokes of your tongue, collecting her arousal before latching onto her clit. You feel a second pair of legs next to you begin to fidget as Ally waits patiently for your attention. Moving your mouth away briefly, you grasp at Ally’s ankle gaining the brunettes’ attention from Cordelia’s lips. She eyes you, her gaze slightly hazy from her pleasure. 

“Lie next to Delia, baby. I told you I want to ravish both my presents tonight.” You husk, your words breathless as you eye her hungrily. Obediently, she lies comfortably next to Cordelia opening her legs slightly to allow you access. You moan at the dark wet patch against her green panties, tapping at her ankle she lifts her hips allowing you to remove her panties. Now settled, you reattach your mouth around Cordelia’s clit, as your thumb rubs firm circles over Ally’s clit watching as she withers above you. You continue to tease them with your mouth and fingers feeling them both thrust against you as they seek for more friction. Moving your thumb from Ally’s sensitive clit and your mouth from Delia’s you sit back leaning on your heels as you look down at the pair, bringing your fingers that are covered with Ally’s arousal to your lips making a show of wrapping your tongue that’s covered in Cordelia’s wet mess around your fingers watching as the pair follow your movements with their dark eyes. Placing your hands on top of Ally’s knees you gently pull her legs further apart before diving for her wet pussy, watching through hooded eyes as she throws her head back and arches her back at the touch. Cordelia whimpers at the site of her two loves, she goes to place her finger against her throbbing clit but you gently slap the hand away and take over her needs sliding your finger in between her lips, collecting her juices teasing her entrance before entering her  as your tongue continues to twirl around Ally’s throbbing clit. 

You feel your own pussy throb at the sight of your wives both coming undone by you, withering and pleading for release as you continue to pleasure them until they tighten around you feeling them clench and pulse around your tongue and fingers. Moans and groans grow louder the closer they reach their orgasm, glistening bodies coming undone before you. They both relax almost simultaneously as they allow their orgasm to wash over them. Your eyes sparkle with lust and love as you watch them catch their breaths, Cordelia’s lovely new red teddy dress crumbled and flimsy against her form. Placing one leg in between their open ones, you lean forward hovering over the pair as they look at you with hooded dark eyes. 

“Champagne?” You ask, licking at your lips hunger still evident in your eyes. They match your gaze and grin. Before they answer you squeal loudly as you feel yourself be removed from above them, Ally wraps her arm around your waist swapping your position from above them to lying against the soft mattress, your wives faces above you as they remove the remaining pieces of their clothing. 

“Drink can wait, we want to celebrate Christmas properly,” Ally's sultry voice sends shivers down your spine as you wiggle in anticipation. 

“Well then, Merry Christmas to me,” You mutter to yourself, grinning from ear to ear feeling grateful for these two goddesses that brighten your life. Christmas may have been a ridiculous holiday in the past for you but it’s true meaning has since changed since meeting these two wonderful women and your sweet blonde boy who is the beautiful mix of them both. With no more words spoken you allow the pair to worship you into the early hour, enjoying their soft touches.

[grandhotelabyss]

Commentary from me on this topic is becoming superfluous. But if you’re new to Grand Hotel Abyss, I’ve finally gathered my most substantive trendspotting posts about how we got here under the tag “The New Conservatism” in homage to Ashbery’s lines from what I think (though I wasn’t alive then) must have been a similar moment in American culture: “The new conservatism is / Sitting down beside you.” (Or standing next to you, clutching your slim waist.)

Since Jones went on their show or something (I’m not a Patreon subscriber), this counts toward our audiovisual Monday. If you need more audiovisuals, here he is a very brief clip from Linklater’s A Scanner Darkly from 2006, the last moment of Jones’s prior bout with counterculture respectability. I remember leftists and libs quoting him unabashedly during the Bush administration, which habit, like the ubiquity of 9/11 trutherism, everybody agreed to pretend never happened when they updated their definition of “fascism” to mean something like the opposite of what it meant circa 2006, for the strange reason that Trump in his most lucid moments sounded like a leftist from 2006. 

I started the novel A Scanner Darkly but never finished it—too confusing! I don’t know how I feel about its author, an ambivalence you can trace through this essay, this essay, and (more audiovisuals!) this video lecture. Not irrelevantly, he once wrote:

Although appearing left wing my training is really Fascistic—not “Fascistic” as Marxist rhetoric defines it but as Mussolini defined it: in terms of the deed & the will, with reality de-ontologized, reduced to mere stuff on which the will acts in terms of deed. Since few living people correctly understand (genuine) Fascism, my ideology has never been pejoratively stigmatized by the left, but those to whom I appeal are in essence the core-bulk of latent masses, the fascist mob. I speak of & for the irrational & the anti-rational, a kind of dynamic nihilism in which values are generated as mere tactics. Thus my real idol is Hitler, who starting out totally disenfranchised rose to total power while scorning wealth (aristocracy) plutocracy to the end. My real enemy is plutocracy; I’ve done my (Fascistic) homework. […] My fascistic premise is: “There is no truth. We make truth; what we (first) believe becomes objectively true. Objective truth depends on what we believe, not the other way around.” This is the essence of the Fascist epistemology, the perception of truth as ideology imposed on reality—mind over matter.

As for Jones, I used to put him down as a limited-hangout artist, a licensed jester, someone ultimately on some payroll, and that might even be true, but I was probably naive then, assuming organic cultural developments where there mostly aren’t any, everybody being on somebody’s payroll in the end. (I mean, I’m not, but I’m pretty sick of it and will entertain reasonable offers.)

How about a new kind of hermetic conservatism And suffering withdrawal symptoms of same? Let’s get on with it...

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline. 

Previous

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria. 

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.” 

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.” 

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?” 

“They’re wonderful.” 

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.” 

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?” 

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.” 

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered. 

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?” 

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.” 

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.” 

“I don’t have one,” she laughed. 

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.” 

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser. 

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.” 

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.” 

“I do as well.” 

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that. 

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

===================================================

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs. 

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce. 

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked. 

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it. 

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.” 

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment. 

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him. 

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.” 

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?” 

“When the time is right.” 

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.” 

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?” 

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.” 

“Who says I-.” 

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building.  The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third. 

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach. 

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel. 

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned. 

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game. 

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice. 

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture. 

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on. 

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain. 

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone. 

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.” 

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief. 

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond. 

“LOOK AT ME!” 

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth. 

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!” 

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth. 

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization. 

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer. 

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” 

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.” 

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.” 

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured. 

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.” 

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.” 

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.” 

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.” 

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.” 

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything. 

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter. 

==================================================

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight. 

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor.  Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink. 

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?” 

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.” 

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could. 

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.” 

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.” 

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him.  “What’s the point of doing this again?”  

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.” 

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful. 

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives. 

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.” 

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them. 

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever. 

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad. 

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce. 

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside. 

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly. 

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.” 

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach. 

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.” 

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then  turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.” 

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as  my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit. 

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.” 

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.  

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.” 

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?” 

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.” 

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off. 

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.” 

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?” 

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.” 

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.” 

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?” 

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?” 

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.” 

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud. 

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?” 

“It was alright.” 

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.” 

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?” 

“Not yet. I’m planning to.” 

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!” 

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek. 

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling. 

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.” 

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said. 

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted. 

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Rachel asked, chiming in. 

“By all means,” Demetria motioned. 

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria  noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.” 

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.” 

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?” 

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.” 

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing. 

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?” 

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.” 

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low 

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?” 

“Bruce-.” 

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth. 

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

========================================================

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there. 

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table. 

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it. 

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat. 

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop. 

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there. 

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend 

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there. 

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop. 

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen. 

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria. 

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed. 

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

========================================================

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention. 

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.” 

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.” 

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?” 

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice. 

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker. 

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria. 

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her. 

She watched from behind his shoulder. 

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd. 

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them. 

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.” 

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.” 

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel. 

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered. 

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted. 

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd. 

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.” 

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully. 

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.” 

She whimpered, closing her eyes. 

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!” 

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.” 

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars. 

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!” 

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream.  She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor. 

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.” 

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...” 

“You’re going to be alright.” 

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred. 

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate. 

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker. 

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps. 

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!” 

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly. 

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.” 

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on. 

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress: 

Hair/Makeup:

[hongsside]

Finally Us :: ⅕

pairing :: kim hongjoong ✘ male reader  ✘ yunho ( eventual poly relationship )

wc :: 3.9k

genre :: smut • romance • 

tags :: doctor au , smut , doctor hongjoong, mlm, aftercare, implied forbidden relationship, implied long-distance relationship, implied cheating, sub! reader, hongjoong switch/vers you’ll see later :>

chapter tags :: implied cheating, token of love, office sex, doctor hongjoong, nurse siyeon, cock ring.

chapter title :: Promise

sws :: blow jobs , semi-public sex, riding, cum sharing, restraints, hickies, toys, orgasm denial, choking

tw :: addiction/drug overuse in a simile form?? no characters were doing drugs its just a simile?? 

tba :: next chapter →

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(o´ω`o)ﾉ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･ ❝ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ~ᵎ ❞

-------

“dr. kim! d-dr. kim!”, panted a miniature figure, sputtering on her words as the dark-haired individual called beforehand spun on his heel to face the short-winded woman. the lady handed him a thin bundle of papers to the man as the staggering scent of her perfume lingered in the air, only cringing abhorrently in response. with a hand resting on her knee for essential support she continued to ramble about things ranging from dinner to the documents to a reoccurring patient whose name caught the doctor's attention.

“oh, did you say y/n? i presume these are his, correct?”, visibly nodding, dr. kim, as said previously, muttered a quiet 'perfect' under his breath and dismissed the large faction of uniformed-women, striding to his office at the end of the hall.

meet the doctor: dr. kim hongjoong; dr. kim was the youngest in his field, graduating from high school at barely 16 and completing college at 23. he was a young man in his early twenties, which caught the attention of many women from all ages, what intrigued them most, was the fact he was strangely single. you could easily tell why he was favored by the women, but to their disadvantage he was not interested in middle-aged wives. although, fortunately for him, he had his eye settled on someone else already.

“dr. kim! you have a patient waiting.”, called out a steady voice from the mob of nurses. he turned his head and nodded, waving off the woman with a smile as he proceeded to open the door. the sound of keys jangling at his hips filling the now silent atmosphere; there was faint tension evident as soon as he stepped inside. he looked down at the figure before him in mere awe, adoring the way his doe eyes wandered around the room, the way his bangs fell just above his eyes, the way he sat there anxious for his presence and the fact only they knew why.

hongjoong specifically loved one more thing, and that was nothing less than the way he looked so ruined when they played their blissful little games.

in fact, he was gonna play a game today-- his game, of course.

“mister y/n, i'm more than glad to have you back.”, the doctor mused humming in approval at the man, a shameless grin forming softly as he spoke to the man. the other man nodded in return scarcely meeting dr. kim's gaze. he swallowed thickly as dr. kim's cat-like aspect glared at him almost in a challenging manner.

the uniformed-man cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he glanced at the fragile frame, before looking down at his papers and chuckling.

“i-is something everything okay doctor?”, he stuttered, tugging at the collar of his sweater as he sweat profusely under hongjoong’s fiery stare. making sure the door was locked, the doctor smiled.

“of course.”

“you’re here for a regular check-up, am i correct?”, he continued nonchalantly, trying his best to appear professional despite internally, he was clouded by the lewd thoughts about his patient that pestered his mind.

“right--”, the slender man nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

“alright then, let’s begin.”, the men stood up in unison, dr. kim leading the other man to the exam table but all he could see was the small figure under him, moaning for him, just like the other night and that was close enough to make him lose it right then and there.

“doctor kim?”, y/n repeated, holding back a stutter as he flailed his hand in front of dr. kim’s bewitched expression in attempt to snap him out of his seemingly never-ending trance.

clearing his throat, hongjoong smiled; a roguish smile. knowing exactly what routine game y/n was playing, and he knew exactly how to debunk the man.

“please sit still.”, hongjoong instructed, placing a hand on the other man’s back, palming soft circles that would gift anyone a sense of comfort— that’s not what y/n wanted. slowly dragging his painted nails against his back, the doctor chuckled once more, “knock it off my love, you aren’t fooling anyone”. he whispered as the other struggled to calm his unsteady breathing while the other man had reached the waist band of his awfully short shorts. frowning, the brunette man continued.

 “come one sweetheart work with me here. strip”.

originally his plan was that he would play cold and professional unlike his usual approach of just fucking him senselessly on his office table. however, there was something different in store for the two men.

“i'm quite disappointed y/n..”, hongjoong whispered under his breath just loud enough for the smaller figure to hear. his hot breath fanned the back of his neck causing his patient's already blushed cheeks to turn 50 different shades of red.

“is that so..?”, the doll like man mused attempting to hold back the stutters and mumbles yet failing to his dismay as he slid his shirt off with the assistance of hongjoong. the doctor only chuckled in response, twirling his shorts like a flag with too much pride.

without another word hong's lips were latched onto his patient's, his tongue much too gracefully dancing with his. whimpers were revealed and soft whines let out and god knows what other filthy noises were created. tongues glided together, sucking and biting the other's lips as he ran out of breath. as much as they knew this was wrong, professionally, but his heart..and cock said differently.

he pulled away allowing them both to catch their breaths, leaving them panting in unison and the fun had just barely begun. by now the smaller man was undressed-- apart from his briefs that the slightly older man seemed to love teasing him with. his [y/n] ears had turned the same shade of red his cheeks had at this point, and hong could not help but notice. a low seductive giggle left his lips, “are you hungry yet?”. baffled even answer dr. kim continued. “i'm so damn hungry..”. his eyes overcome with lust, you realized what hunger he meant, and he surely seemed starved.

those briefs that were previously hugging the curves of the smaller man's lower body were now in his hands, he shuddered at the sudden exposure to the cold and couldn't help feel his cock twitch as it was hit by the air. he hurried to close his legs which were so beautifully displayed on hong's exam table but hongjoong was quick to stop him. the doctor had sunk down on his knees, head between y/n’s thighs which were bruised and bitten from last time. hongjoong examined his marks on his body with pride at his own creation. before he knew it his tongue was gliding across the purple works of art on the man's skin, he worked his way up higher and higher until he had reached the throbbing red tip of his cock.

god, he loved the way his flushed tip oozed out precum from just the slightest touch.

in awe, he began to lap at the underside of his cock, massaging his balls in the process causing choked up moans and grunts to leave y/n’s swollen lips-- the way his name combined with his needy moans rolled off histongue was plainly sinful but it was hong's not so guilty pleasure. his eyes never leaving y/n's, he stroked the base spreading his cum as he shifted from above in hope for more friction only to be halted by hongjoong's firm hand gripping at his hips. “m-more..”, he breathed in desire of something he wasn't quite sure of yet, luckily he knew just what.

taking him in whole, he wrapped his soft lips around his cock. the velvety walls of his mouth surrounding him-- tempting him to move as the heat of hongjoong’s tongue grazed the soft vein on the underside of his cock. truly, he wanted to mouth fuck the doctor but something told him he would pay for it later.

he hummed around him, sending vibrations of pleasure through his body still without moving.

this felt like hours, hongjoong’s lips hugging the curves of your cock: his eyes which were once commanding and powerful were now transformed into teasing eyes of playfulness and lust. waiting was unbearable and as time passed, y/n felt his cock twitch as dr. kim started to push him farther down his throat not gagging once, maintaining eye contact that could surely kill a man.

being fed up with his teasing, the man described as frail and shy had his hand now entangled in the roots of his hidden lover’s hair.  loving the way the man on his knees looked up at him and started to bob his head, taking him in fully and groaning around him not caring about who saw their .

“y-your mouth feels so goo-- oh my god~ hongjoong!”, he breathed as he reached so closed to his climax that was until pulled away from his cock with a pop, his lips parted so beautifully in an a soft ‘o’. with drool dripping from his faint pout, he swirled his tongue around the tip as he left kitten licks along the way knowing the other man was so close to losing it.

“hongjoong- p-please just ..fuck me.”, said the man on the table spreading his legs wider before turning around leaving the blank canvas of his ass on display. hongjoong truly did enjoy this, it was like his own free art show and y/n was the main piece. as he scanned and palmed the soft globes of the mans ass cheeks, he raised him hand to leave a crimson mark on them. the stinging pain soon turned into pleasure and a groan left the lips of the men.

once again the younger man felt the sudden heat and firmness in his body this time somewhere different, it was hongjoong’s forsaken little tongue. the places it would go and no one would even know was sinful, but that made it better. y/n bit his lip at the feeling of the warm wetness pushing into his trembling hole--oh how he loved that shit.

y/n gripped at the sides of the table seemingly unable to contain the noises of pleasure from hongjoong just eating him out; the power the short man had was frankly formidable and he himself knew it so well. as dr. kim continued to speed up his pace, lapping at the man’s dripping hole; the doctor slipped on a cock ring from in between his legs spread so temptingly.

jerking back in surprise, the smaller man whined, “no..hongjoong please--”,

without warning hongjoong kissed his lips, shutting him up almost like on queue. he would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy his kiss despite still being bitter over losing his orgasm for the second time that evening. y/n’s eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction and hong let out out a sound of amusement, pulling away panting softly.

somehow the room’s temperature grew hotter and the desire for each other grew with it-- moving away from the desk, hongjoong scooped up y/n, carrying his figure gently towards the couch located in the corner of the room.

“ride me.”, purred the older man as he fumbled with the hassle of his belt and the hem of his jeans. he laid down and y/n shuffled over, placing his knees at either side of the brunette’s torso. y/n gladly obliged with the command, quickly spreading his cheeks which were soaked with spit a littered with dark-red hickies revealing his hole once again and greedily taking hongjoong’s impatient cock.

with little time on their hands, they quickly got to work. the sound of skin clapping and the show of y/n's ass bouncing on dr. kim's cock was downright pornographic-- it truly didn't help that the glass panes on hongjoong's office walls were laminated with a special paper that allowed to see themselves in this state. beads of sweat rolled down his face as he clawed at the sides of the leather couch and thrusted upwards as y/n came back down on his cock.

“god- fuck, y/n you're so tight-.”, hongjoong whispered and y/n's eyes fluttered open as one of hong's thrusts curved slightly to the left reaching a place he had never imagined. tears started forming at the curves of y/n's eyes, loving the way his cock filled the smaller man's empty velvety walls..he made him [y/n] feel full-- and literally he was. but physically, sexually and romantically he was even fuller cause of hongjoong and that was something he would never get enough of.

dr. kim loved to see it-- the way his cock disappeared and reappeared from the other man's trembling little pucker; which took him in like a fucking champion., the way his ass jiggled every time he bounced, the way his thrusts met y/n's midway. He loved it so much, it was like a drug prescribed to him that he could never let go; in a way it was like an addiction.

as y/n's bounces grew sloppier and the dark-haired man grasped onto his lover's hips, it was evident that they were both near to their orgasms; although y/n quickly became aware of the situation, hissing at the realization that he would be missing his climax for the third time, and that's when hongjoong came. y/n's abused hole oozed out cum as hong's tip continued to shoot out strings of cum inside of the patient's ass. hongjoong pulled out stroking himself to completion as y/n turned around, bitter-sweet expression painting the curves of his flushed face. He took the initiative to clean up all the cum off hong's cock, displaying it to his lover as the liquid dripped down from his tongue.

hongjoong kissed him, tongues exchanging the lingering taste of the doctor's cum. groans came from both of them, hongjoong rewarding the younger man by stroking his neglected cock, pulsing between his shaking legs.

“your turn”, the man sighed still catching his breath from reaching his previous high. he was certainly euphoric and his head was in the clouds, the feelings of bliss and pleasure they brought each other was remarkable and that was undeniable to the both of them. but with the clock ticking and the appointment coming closer and closer to an end, they didn't have much time left to dawdle on the limited time they had to spend. without another word hongjoong got rid of his tie, wrapping it around wrists of his patient and pinning them above his head. y/n's bangs were stuck together by sweat, dripping from his temple to his exposed chest, suddenly hongjoong made his way to his desk not forgetting to teasingly drag his fingers across the other man's skin sending shivers down his spine.

once reaching his desk, he opened the top left drawer and retrieved a royal purple vibrator. just the sight of that toy gave him flashbacks, it was like a golden ticket for his climax-- the only thing in the way..was the cock ring. hongjoong stepped closer, kneeling just before him, admiring the way he sent back the gaze of overbearing lust and desire and the way hints of red adorned his naked body.

as the doctor slowly thrusted the vibrator, y/n bit back moans and rolled his hips in hopes of something more. hong turned up the intensity level while also picking up the pace making his lover grow louder by the minute. before he knew it a knot was forming in his stomach and a hiss left his lips as hongjoong feathered his fingers above his tense abdomen. the sight itself could've made him cum. while rolling his hips downwards, gradually fucking himself on the toy, y/n felt something else enter his pucker once more-- hongjoong's cock. now this was something that made him grow in desperation for his climax, knowing that once he did it would be memorable.

hongjoong gave his hips an experimental roll, testing the waters anew for a reaction; receiving just one when y/n's eyes rolled back and a broken moan left his swollen lips. he knew how much he loved his and he was more than willing to give it to him. his free hand much too useless on the sidelines, as he reached down for his throat grasping at the sides leaving y/n basking in the overwhelming pleasure he was obtaining.

“right there, please ah- god!”, he gasped, arching his back so hongjoong's thrusts met his prostate so nicely, releasing sounds he'd never made before. sweat dripping off him, cheeks blushed as hong took a grasp at his hips, creating a rhythm at a brutal pace that even his body was baffled by; feeling his cock pulsing inside the man indicating that he was so much closer than anticipated.

slipping the cock ring off with a subtle smile, and a loud trembling mewl from y/n; hongjoong gave him a few hard thrusts and turned up the vibrator's intesity to its highest level, leaving them both shaking in their final stage of completion, a hiss leaving hong's lips.

as he released his grip from the throat of his lover, hongjoong gave him a pleased giggle and as if on cue-- they came. their lips parted in soft 'o's and pearls of cum slipping out from y/n's slit and onto his stomach as well as his thighs while the rest was swallowed by his greedy hole which spilled some out occasionally. his thighs quivered from the stimulation and hongjoong rested his head on his lover's sweaty shoulder.

“you know i love you, right?”

a simple tired nod was the only response he got, he chuckled warmly in reply.. and no he wasn't a single bit upset by his response-- he always knew y/n never has such prevalent stamina. and with a quick glance at the clock hong sighed, carrying his sleepyhead to the private restroom. originally he would've just snuck him out the back door and bid their goodbyes until next visit (or at least until hongjoong got off work) like they've always done.

and i know that does make him seem like an asshole, but its not for the reasons one might think of. flicking his lover's head gently in an attempt to bring him back down from euphoria hongjoong smiled fondly, pecking his forehead affectionately. he showered him--although he only had 20 minutes left; once he finished, he clothed him in his extra pair of clothes consisting of one shirt much to big for the smaller figure and a pair of sweatpants that just barely hung onto his hips.

he glanced at the clock once again-- 12 minutes left. the uniformed brunette let out a sigh, he truly dreaded waking up his lover but for the sake of both of them he had to. as he muttered sweet nothings to his sleeping beauty the eyes of the smaller man fluttered open, their doe-like quality returning as if a button was pressed. the man sat up, looking at the clock suddenly an indescribable expression of sadness washed upon their faces and that's when they realized it was time to say goodbye.

10 minutes

9 minutes

8 minutes

7 minutes

6 minutes

and then suddenly it was 5..

would they really have to say goodbye now and not see each other for almost another four months? the clock's hands spun seemingly faster leaving the two men empty and numb to their surroundings. why was being together so hard? they asked, their faces communicating for them amongst the cold hard silence of the room, not needing to say a word.

“will i see you again..soon at least?..” the recently awaken man mumbled

no response

the men sighed, knowing it would have to end once again. a knock at the office door was heard causing y/n to jump, startled by the sudden intrusion-- their eyes met as hongjoong called out a firm ‘in a minute’ and they were in silence again. the duo quickly shuffled over to the back door, collecting their belongings and putting them in their corresponding places as they bid their goodbyes, exchanging soft pecks.

“you know.. your family doesn’t have to know..” the uniformed man murmured, spacing out in denial of the repetition of events. the other man simply nodded, opening his mouth to breath out another answer.

“they’ll still want me to be with him though, and besides its not like i don’t live on the other side of the stat--.”

“it doesn’t matter, don’t give up on us please, y/n--”, he sighed, the muffled sound of heels tapping filling the atmosphere, the faint smell of sex hinting at their noses.

“dr. kim, is everything alright  in there?”, the steady voice spoke again.

“yes! just tidying up a bit--”, the brunette replied turning his head towards the door, but when he turned to the direction of the other man, he was already out the door, only leaving his ring on the small mahogany desk next to the door.

the uniformed man examined the ring, inside it read ‘promise’. hongjoong could’ve cried right there, placing the ring in the pocket of his coat with hesitance.

he scanned the room in hopes to still find him, despite knowing he wouldn't. the man had cleaned up earlier not being able to find a single trace of his lover in the empty square room. sighing in defeat, he patted his down his coat hoping to summon some professionalism by straightening the wrinkles near the pockets, opening the door plastering fake ass smile across his face in the process.

“kim fucking hongjoong, what the fuck took you so long, huh?”, she said in almost a whisper-- it was siyeon; hongjoong’s older sister, quite a prick on a rose isn’t she, huh?

“noona, i was cleaning up--.”

“whatever, not what i was here for-- did you do the basic checkup on mister y/n?”, he chuckled; his sister truly was a bit of a pain, he’d never admit it but it was true.

“i thought the nurses did that in room A, you guys did, right?”, the doctor questioned, it was honorable to mention that his lovely sister worked at the hospital as well; head nurse of course.

“no, i thought you were supposed to-- aish, you’re so reckless.”, he shook his head, waiting for her to finish as he continued formulating a response in his clouded head.

“--wait, where even is he? i was hoping we could do it quickly at the end of his visit.”, she tapped her foot, her heel making an obnoxious clicking noise once again. she peaked her head, attempting to see the room behind her brother’s figure in front of the door frame. the long-haired woman clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“i guess we’ll just have to arrange a follow up appointment with mister y/n”

“really? if you want, i’ll take it out of your hands and call him myself--”

“lookie here dr. kim, i don’t know what you’re up to, and frankly i don’t care; as long as its not double the work for me, do as you please”, he smiled bowing slightly as she strutted back to her office, sighing as she slowly disappeared out of his sight.

“guess we’ll be meeting again..”, he grinned as he clutched the ring in his pocket, talking to himself in the midst of his empty room. as if a child was given candy, he skipped over to the phone getting ready to dial his lover’s number as he slipped the ring on his finger.

“i promise.”

end of chapter

all work by hongsside

[m4delin]

Ashes pt. 1

Rating: M (for the whole story) Tags/Warnings: Angst, death, gore, burning stuff (tags apply mostly only to the other parts of the story and not this one, but they will appear) Characters: Philza, Tommy, Dream The small flame seemed to struggle to stay alive, flickering and making the shadows dance around them. Phil wondered briefly if he should add another log to it and let it stay alive just a little longer but the sound of leaves rustling outside their hideout reminded him of how bad of an idea that is. No matter how much needed warmth it would give him and Tommy, no matter that it would be warm enough to properly cook food for once.

No, a bigger fire would mean more smoke and that in turn would reveal their location. They can’t afford that.

With a sigh Phil turned back towards the book in his hands and tried to read the words in the small light the fire gave him, but it only made his head pound at the effort to read in the low light.

Didn’t matter anyway, he knew the words by heart at this point. It was just something to keep himself awake for the night.

There was a small movement in the corner of Phil’s eye and a brief sound of shuffling before it stilled.

Phil looked over to the bundle that was Tommy, their blankets concealing almost all of him with only the upper half of his face showing. He’d hoped that Tommy would’ve gotten a good sleep this time around after insisting that he should have Phil’s blanket as well but judging by the scrunched up eyebrows, nightmares were plaguing his dreams.

It made Phil’s heart ache, so he leaned over and gently shook Tommy. There was a soft gasp from Tommy as his eyes snapped open and he seemed to curl more into himself.

Phil lifted his hands so Tommy could see both of them.

“Hey mate,” he said softly and a tension in his shoulders slowly eased up when Tommy’s eyes focused on him. “You’re okay, Tommy. We’re inside a dirthut we built for the night, we’re safe.”

Phil fought against his instinct to gather Tommy up in his arms to reassure him, to cover him with non-existent wings to protect him from whatever ghost his mind conjured. Instead he resigned to simply watch as Tommy took in their surroundings before sitting up.

“What’s the time?” He mumbled as he rubbed his still functioning eye.

Humming in thought, Phil lifted the small fabric he’d hung up over the small window he’d left for exactly this purpose.

“It’s nearing morning, but it should be another hour before the mobs start burning,” he said as he closed the cloth and leaned back. As his back touched the dirt wall pain shot through his shoulder blades, making him flinch and lean forward so nothing was touching his back.

“Phil?”

Phil gave Tommy a small smile. “I’m fine, mate. Just some phantom pain is all.”

A frown made itself known on Tommy’s face, but the young man didn’t say anything. He simply pulled the blankets closer to him and his eyes settled on the small flame that was bound to die any moment now.

Silence settled in between them as it often did these days. There wasn’t much to be said and the silence helped them to detect any threats closing in.

They stay in their small shelter, waiting for the morning sun to rise up, and share a small meal to gather strength for the travel they need to do. Carrots and some questionable meat, but it’s better than nothing.

Food wasn’t the easiest thing to come by these days.

Eventually the sun rays start to peek through the trees and Tommy begins to pack his stuff properly into his bag. Phil is slower with his own bag but unlike Tommy, he hadn’t taken out a lot of stuff to begin with.

As Phil started to close up the bag, he let his eyes wander to Tommy.

The young man seemed so much older than 20. His blond hair is messy and dirty from being unable to keep it clean during the travels, the white streak of hair; a proof that he once was dead, sticks out as if it could never get dirty by any physical means. Right eye dim and a scar from an explosion stretching across the right side of his face, it never fails to make Phil feel guilty. Broken and mended clothes hanging off his body that Phil knows is too thin to be healthy.

Oh how Phil wished that none of this had ever happened.

It didn’t matter now, as Tommy hoisted his bag over his shoulder and grabbed a shovel to dig them out.

“Tommy,” Phil said just before Tommy exits their shelter. Tommy paused but didn’t look back.

Phil’s voice grew soft. “You know that I view you as a son, right?”

A lump decided to make itself home in his throat when Tommy scoffed.

“And you have such a great track record with kids,” Tommy said bitterly before exiting the shelter.

Despite the heavy feeling in his chest, Phil sighed and got up, grabbing his own bag before following Tommy outside.

They needed to get on the move.

[takeflight-hermitcraftau]

Chapter 3- The Storm

Warnings: Panic attacks, vomit, near death experience via drowning. 

A few days had passed, and Grian was plotting yet again. He was planning on going into Mumbo’s base, and building a little meeting room to propose his newest idea. He jumped down Mumbo’s water elevator, laughing to himself before getting stuck. He yelped, struggling out of the door before getting punched across the face by a slime block. Grian sputtered, looking at the machine that had knocked him to the ground.

“Really Mumbo? What is this? An anti-Grian Machine?” He laughed, before quickly going over to Mumbo. He poked the man, seeing him just sitting down on the ground, eyes closed and in a deep meditative state. He giggled mischievously, looking around the area for the certain spot he knew would lead to the other side of the mob farm. He mined through a few blocks, putting them back as he walked through the small hallway. He wasn’t sure how Mumbo could get through these tight hallways with his huge wings. Even with his smaller ones this was difficult and tight. The hallway opened up to a slightly larger room, and he quickly made he way over to the ravine. He had already planned out the area he was going to use for this idea, and his inventory was filled with everything he’d need.

About an hour later he was done, the gravel ‘accent wall’ done and a lever by his own chair. He grinned excitedly, opening his inventory and pulling out a nice red suit he had made himself with wool. He pulled off his red shirt, stretching out his wings to make the process easier. He looked down at himself. He wasn’t anything to sneeze at, but not some sort of model either. He was slim, having recently gained much more of a swimmers body than anything. He glanced behind his shoulder, where his wings attached to his upper back.

The red coloration of his wings molded down seamlessly into his back. He grabbed the white dress shirt he had gotten off of Scar (the two were rather similar body type wise), throwing it over his back and letting his wings slot into the opened section in the back. It was nice to be able to have others help him with clothing. Back home it was hard, given he’d always need help cutting out patterns in his shirts that allowed his wings to come through. But Scar helped him out big time, giving him a patterns to use to make shirts and whatnot. He buttoned up the white shirt, stretching out his shoulders. It was definitely a tight fit. But honestly?? It didn’t look half bad on him. He took the red suit jacket, and slipped that on as well. He had to reach behind him to zip up the area around his wings, so it fit better and looked a lot more professional.

He just lazily pulled the red dress pants over his gray slacks, and then groaned as he realized the green tie. He unbuttoned the jacket, and struggled to tie the tie around his neck. He privately messaged Scar.

Grian: hey dude. How do you tie a tie?

GoodTimesWithScar: Oh my goodness. Your hopeless.

Grian: I knooooww.

Grian laughed a bit, but Scar told him he was busy right now, and he took that answer and just tried to pull up a video on his communicator. He took about ten or so minutes trying before he finally got it, and just then it came up on his communicator that Mumbo had stopped being AFK. He grinned, rushing up to the little window he had made behind Mumbo’s spawner. He heard Mumbo laugh at seeing him, walking up to the mirror.

“What are you doing?” He asked, and Grian just beamed.

“I am here to propose the deal of the century!” He said, his smile wide.

“Get over here.” Mumbo said, smiling tiredly at the energetic body. Grian walked through the small hallway, beaming. “What are you wearing?” He laughed.

“I’m Here to give You! The deal of a life time.” Grian said. “Also! What is this?!” Grian held up the tag, and Mumbo laughed. Grian just sighed. “Follow me! We mustn’t waste time.” Grian grabbed Mumbo’s hand, dragging him through the tiny hallway once again.

“This isn’t really a professional entrance.”

“Well it’s what I had to work with.” Grian laughed, getting into the ravine and climbing up the stairs, just dodging mobs and arrows.

“Not very safe either.” Mumbo laughs, taking his sword and killing a skeleton attacking Grian. Said dirty blonde laughed, getting to the room before the meeting room.

“This is where my secretary works. If i had one.” He joked, and Mumbo laughed a little. He still had a grip on Grian’s hand, a part of him not wanting to let go of it. Grian was just. So excitable. His little giggles were adorable and it sent Mumbo into another plain when he managed to get the little gremlin to laugh. He didn’t romantically love the man, no. He wasn’t gay after all. But he loved the man platonically, despite only knowing him for a few days. Grian somehow had that effect of the other hermits. It felt like they all knew Grian all their lives already.

“So, Mumbo.” Grian said, letting go of Mumbo’s hand to sit down at the chair he had made. Mumbo sat in the chair beside him, looking over to him. “As you know, most of the hermits have these little groups of theirs. ConCorp, New Hermit Order, excetera. I want to propose a new group between us! You’re the only hermit i really know so far, so i wanted to make a partnership. So if i need redstone help you’d be able to help me, and vise versa!” Grian smiled, reaching towards the lever. “And the name of this partnership??” He pulled the lever. “BUILDSTONE!” The gravel fell to reveal the name, besides one stack of gravel.

“Wow Grian.”

“See?? This is exactly why I need your help!” He laughed. Mumbo couldn’t help the little laugh that left him as he watched Grian shovel the gravel away. He looked at the logo Grian had on the wall.

“I see. Well, Grian. I’d love to have a partnership with you! I really do need the building help.” He smiled. Grian gaped at him.

“With that deathstar of your’s i doubt you do!” He said. Mumbo laughed again.

“No seriously I suck when it comes to building.” Mumbo smiled shyly. Grian just laughed.

“Well! I’m glad to have you as a partner Mumbo! And the name is totally up for debate. I just kinda threw this together.” Grian added.

----

Grian was sitting on the platform of his base, looking up at the sky and thinking of what to do next. Mumbo said yes to his proposal, He now had the tag, AND he couldn’t even go tag someone else! He huffed, going through the days footage and just starting to edit as he laid on the floor. A brief thought crossed his mind. He should go and find this world’s borders. He nodded to himself, standing up and saving the video as it was for now. He’d finish editing it later.

He yawned, looking up at the sun as it was starting to set. “Better go quickly.” He muttered, taking off and flying up past the rim of his base so far. He just headed towards Scar’s base, just starting to fly without any real purpose of motive. He flew past the volcano that Scar was building, whistling to himself. “That man is a terraforming God.” He muttered to himself. He saw a outline of a person on top of the volcano, but paid it no mind. He just figured it was Scar.

He hummed, just feeling the wind in his hair and wings. He allowed his mind to wander for a moment, his eyes closing. He wondered what he should do next for his base, who he should try to get in contact with next. Grian dipped down closer to the water, letting the waves crash against his hand as he flew. He knew that there was mostly ocean for a few kilometers, but he didn’t really care. It would still be a nice and relaxing fly.

‘Why did the watchers let me go?’

The thought appeared in his head, sudden and quickly. He let that thought fester and stay. One thought grew into 2. Then 3. And before he could control it his mind was filled with negative thoughts and feelings. He felt fear gripping at his core, its ice cold hands restraining him. There was no where to land. His chest was heaving and he felt tears falling down his cheeks and the thoughts of him not being good enough roared through his head. The thoughts telling him he was a cruel monster. He wasn’t normal. Wasn’t okay.

Grian just flew into the ocean, letting the bitter cold water wash over him the soaked his wings and made it impossible for him to fly. But he didn’t care. He floated on the ocean surface, wings spread out as heaving sobs left his body. “Why would they miss me?” He heard himself say. He gasped for air, hands pulling at his hair. He knew this was a panic attack. He was prone to them. Taurtis usually helped him calm down. But he was out here, alone with only the ocean to comfort him.

He noticed water dripping onto him, and his eyes opened for a moment. Harsh stormclouds were forming above him, and he gasped. Oh fuck. The light dripping turned into a harsh and rapid rain, the ocean starting to twist and turn. He dived underwater to avoid being knocked unconscious, swimming back towards Scar’s island. Why couldn’t he see it anymore? How far had he actually gone??

Was he lost??

He poked his head above the water to look around, only to get knocked under by a huge wave. Panic once again settled into his bones, the need to breathe burning at his lungs. He swam back onto the water’s surface, his wings just dragging behind him and weighing him down. Oh god why couldn’t he just get out of the water?? Why couldn’t he fly?? Another wave crashed into him, and it drove him deep underwater. Grian just started ti swim desperately, using his wings to propel him under the water the best he could. He needed to get to dry land, to breathe. He swam towards the surface a final time, his head spinning and everything moving far too fast.

“GRIAN!” He heard a voice call out, and he felt a warm hand grab his. He was pulled out of the water and into someones arms. He could feel leather, but that was about it. His eyes closed and he gasped uselessly for air. “Its okay buddy. We’re gonna get you help. I promise.” Grian kept his eyes closed as the person re-adjusted their hold on him, and he was officially knocked out.

__

“What do you mean he was flying to the border?!”

“I don’t know! I just saw him fly past and i noticed the storm clouds! I don’t know what else he would be doing!”

Grian came too to hearing the two bickering voices. His lungs felt heavy, and before he knew it, he threw himself over the side of the bed, dry heaving and coughing up water and salt.

“GRIAN!” two voices yelled in unison. He just groaned in response, and he felt someone push him back into bed.

“Oh my god man, you scared us to death!” Grian’s eyes focused, and he noticed that mustache he was so fond of.

“Mum...bo?” He rasped, his voice sore from inhaling salt water.

“Yes its me, you absolute spoon.” Mumbo brushed some hair from Grian’s face. “Are you okay? Actually don’t answer that I know you’re not.” He said. Scar was standing behind him, a towel thrown over the water now on the floor.

“Yea man. You took quite a beating.” Scar fretted, having taken off his jacket at some point in time. Grian put his hands on his face, grounding himself. He felt leather move around his arms. Oh, so that’s where the jacket went. He just groaned, closing his eyes again. “Grian?”

“I. I had a panic attack out at sea. Came randomly.” He muttered, as Mumbo handed him some water to help soothe his throat. Mumbo frowned.

“Why didn’t you message one of us to help you?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you guys.” He said, sighing. Mumbo just nodded, helping Grian sit up. “And i was too far out. You wouldn’t have found me before the storm.”

“Grian, you’re lucky i saw you from my little island.” Scar said, sitting on the bed and touching Grian’s forehead. “And you’re burning up!” He fretted. Grian just pushed his hand away.

“I’ll be okay Scar.” He smiled, slowly going to stand up.

“Oh no you’re not.” Mumbo said, pushing him back down. “You’re sick.”

“And you have a mustache. Are we done stating the obvious?” Grian shot back before he could control himself. He covered his mouth with his hand quickly. “Oh my god i’m so sorry I didn’t mean for it to come out like that!” He said, watching Mumbo for any signs of anger. He only got a light hearted laugh back.

“Its quite alright mate. Guess i do sound a bit like Captain obvious don’t i?”

[comfy-whumpee]

Rozen 7: Recovery

CN: the second part of this is set in a hospital. One more tag for @sola-whumpings-primary-blog, thank you for being my tag list for this arc.

He’s a little bundle of thin limbs in the corner of the sofa, slim hands bunching the blanket around his chest. His eyes fix tightly onto his saviour, barely blinking, as though the brief closure of his eyes would make this disappear. Among the deep red wool around him, his skin is pale, his burns highlighted, and his hair a sunset complement to the colours.

Alistair is so glad that he waited to find someone this pretty.

“Again, sweetness.”

“I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.”

The words flow. Ellis’s voice is a tap, turned on and off at Alistair’s will, and what comes out is also under his control. Ellis’s own thoughts are not part of the equation, today.

“Once more.”

“I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.”

“Good boy. What did that awful detective say to you?”

Brown eyes go from distant. “I don’t...remember,” Ellis says softly.

He does. He will. There’s only so much that terror can do to push away unwanted thoughts. But he hasn’t slept since he was taken, under Alistair’s command, and he barely ate, and spent so much time listening to the voice in his head, on the last of his three days away, that most of the work is already done.

What memories do remain – you haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t have to do what he says, you deserve to be free – will fade in time.

“When those nasty words trouble you again, just think about your rules,” Alistair says. When Ellis nods, he smiles, and finally sits down beside him on the sofa. The speed at which Ellis curls against him is gratifying, and Alistair wraps an arm around him, letting him hide his face. “Now, do you have any more questions?”

Ellis swallows, and then nods, cheek grazing along Alistair’s collarbone through his shirt.

He’s so sweet. Alistair runs fingers into his hair. “Go ahead, precious thing.”

He hesitates, but he often does that. He prepares his words, so that there is no stutter. Alistair can’t stand stuttering. “Master, were they – a good person?”

A difficult question. Alistair smiles, still stroking through Ellis’s hair, feeling how the attention keeps him relaxed, even as he navigates the bewildering experience of being rescued from a place he wants to be. “They thought they were doing a good thing,” he acknowledges, “because they didn’t know what you are. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Other people won’t understand. They may even say I am bad, for helping you.”

Ellis shrinks against his captor, shaking his head a little.

“Shh, it’s alright. I know. We both know it’s not true, that I am only helping you as best I can.”

Cheek skims upwards to press against Alistair’s neck, Ellis nodding again, and Alistair smiles.

“But as I promised, I won’t tell them. I won’t tell anyone what you are. As long as you are safe, here with me.”

The faint vibration of a whimper crosses from Ellis’s chest to Alistair’s, and he smiles. Ellis makes no sound even in moments like these, when Alistair lays out the story of his self-hatred so plainly.

“We’re just lucky no one was hurt while they had you locked away from me,” he sighs. He wishes he’d had the chance to go out, but it was critical to get Ellis back before his family arrived. “Someone could have been really hurt.”

Another silent whimper, and Ellis nods again, clinging tighter to the only security he has left.

Alistair smiles. There’s always a silver lining.

-

The important thing is that the clients don’t know their ribs are broken. Video calls are good for that. A nice neutral background, enough pillows that they don’t hurt, and they’ll never know Rozen is in hospital right now.

“As we discussed, I held him in a secondary location as a precaution against retaliation,” they explain carefully, keeping their breaths deep and even. “That precaution proved justified. We had three incidents of Engels coming to reclaim him. The last one, I’m sorry to say, was successful. He brought armed men with him. Ellis was not harmed in the process.”

On one side of the screen is Nic, who looks very concerned, clearly picking up on what they’ve left unsaid. Ellis’s parents are on the other side, in their living room together, fixated on the news of their son.

“I want to reassure you that, aside from the burns we are aware of already, Ellis is not injured. From my understanding, he is kept comfortable. However, I can also confirm now without a doubt that Nic’s understanding of his situation is correct.”

Rozen isn’t blind to the rift between Ellis’s two support groups. It’s...a headache. They hope to lay it to rest.

“Engels treats him like a pet. A human pet. His violence is psychological, and Ellis displays clear Stockholm syndrome. I have some other suspicions, but I will discuss those with you later in person. I found no evidence of Nic’s involvement in the abduction.”

Nic’s face folds in relief. Ellis’s parents seem not to notice. “What do we do now?” Siobhan asks.

In the corner of their eye, they see a pale blue figure enter the doorway. The nurse is coming back up the ward. Rozen has to make this quick.

“I will be looking into the armed men he brought with him. I believe his mob connections are stronger than they initially appeared. Once I can establish his resources, I can find a way to stay out of his reach. The next time I rescue him, we will make it stick.”

“Thank you,” Nic and Joe say simultaneously.

“Excuse me?” the nurse calls. “Is that a phone?”

Rozen drags up their mouth into a smile. “I’ll speak with you soon.”

They hang up, drop their phone into their lap, and lift up the e-reader they have instead, wincing as the movement shifts their ribs. The nurse comes closer, squints suspiciously, and then sighs and moves along.

Rozen settles down with the local crime data for this area, and begins highlighting sections that reference the mob. Dates, locations, and names. Bennett, Vera, Kerry, Crossland. They know how to do this. They will do this.

They’re getting Ellis back. Come hell or high water.

[not-the-cleavers]

Target II - Chapter 6

HOLY SHIT sorry for the delay but I seriously got into a rut of ‘I don’t wanna” then Queen happened but now Chapter 6 is here!!! Now I’m not going to lie I did channel Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds for a small section of this. Now Four comes across as a fuck boy in this chapter cause ya girl was dealing with some shit while writing this. Also I never thought that I would ever google “how to clean a gun” and “how to care for throwing knives” BUT HERE WE ARE!!!

Tags; @adrenaline-roulette​ and @amy-brooklyn99​ - if you would like to be tagged just let me know

Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader) Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; Swearing, angst, mentions of trafficking again (sorry), violence against fellow ghosts and smoking Word count; 1.9k (total so far 9.8k) 

Summary; The team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

A week has passed since my last interaction with Billy, was he avoiding me? I was able to keep my mind off the blonde for a while by concentrating on the hard drive and working out who John Dough interacted with most so we could hopefully take down his whole operation. Unfortunately, I made quick work of that task as Dough was meticulously organised. He had folders for business associates, shell companies, calendars and meetings with audio logs, he even had a folder for completed deals, and all were named as such. Normally organised hard drives were sought after, but all I wanted was a massive mess to have to dive into, search for what I need and take my mind off that stupidly beautiful blonde. So I started to make notes, prolonging my work and making the next brief easier, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. I decided a timeline was the best way to figure this guy out, so that’s exactly what I did. I hit play on a random playlist on my iPod to have play in the background while I focused. According to every system I had access to; John Dough did not exist before 2001 when he was 29. There are no birth or death certificates, no school, prison or medical records, no properties or loans under his name. He was effectively like us, a ghost. No real name or family, nothing tying him to anything before his crimes. Which began when he made a name for himself as a hitman. Starting slow, killing random strangers for other random strangers to make money, but without a conscious, it appeared he had no rules when it came to his murder for hire business. Three had previously mentioned almost all hitmen refuse to kill children, a few less refuse to kill women, but this guy had no cut off point. His youngest victim was just 6 months old when the car he was in with his mother exploded, as per the deal with the scumbag husband and father who paid him $500,000 for the hit. In 2008 he left the hitman business and became a human trafficker, more money and more risk involved with that particular lifestyle. And in that position he was able to create all sorts of partnerships with all types of psychopaths and lowlifes, so in 2011 when he decided that he wanted more money and more power, he became an arms dealer. His biggest earning clients were the terrorist cells he supplied with guns and chemical weapons. And that’s what he’s been doing for the past nine years, and that’s what caught One’s eye. One had a sneaking suspicion that Dough has supplied Rovach with the Sarin gas for the attack that he bore witness to all those years ago. Granted One had no idea I knew he was there during that attack, but I gather intelligence, of course I knew he was there.

Eight: Call a brief. One: You sure you’re ready, or do you still need your beauty sleep? Eight: Fuck off cunt. One: This better be fucking good. Hanger, 1 hour.

I busied myself, making seven copies of my notes and timeline and filed one copy into one folder for everyone, shoved another cigarette into my mouth and lit it, pocketed the pack and made my way over to the hanger with the files and my laptop. I had to set up to make this brief go smoothly, because unlike the rest of the ghosts, I have been legally dead for the past 3 years, well before One had recruited me. If One decided that he no longer needed me, I wasn’t stuck for options, he didn’t have to actually kill me and I could make do on my own, and he knew that.

I wirelessly connected my laptop to the multiple screens around the room, giving everyone a decent view of what I’ve found, and just as I was placing the folders around our table, One entered the room, making a scene and complaining that I was making the room smell worse with my cigarettes. “I prefer cigarette smoke over the smell of dried blood that normally floods this room” I sneered in his direction. He just rolled his eyes in response. Slowly everyone filtered in and took their seats, Billy was last in and refused to make eye contact with you. Fuck him; he doesn’t know what he’s missing! With a slight shake of my head I steadied my breath and started going over everything I know. “Alrighty squirrel friends, I have delved deep into this monsters hard drive and this is what I’ve learnt…” I started my monologue, going over the time line I created with all his victims in the early days, moving onto his trafficking days with the photos found a week ago inside their own manila folder for only the brave to look at. Four pushed that folder as far away from him as possible as soon as I mention what was inside. Finishing with his latest weapons deals that were leading to innocent deaths in the hundreds of thousands to possible millions. “Prior to 2001, there is nothing on him. I have no idea what this man was doing before he turned 29 so just in case it wasn’t obvious; John Dough is not his birth name.” this caused a small chuckle from the ghosts. “But what I do know, he travels to meet this man” I flashed a picture of a fat, white and balding man up on the screens for the team to see “twice a month, to eat expensive meals, drink ridiculously old and pricey scotch, smoke Cuban cigars and fuck high end prostitutes. Not to mention secure guns and chemical weapons for the people Dough sells to. His name is Stanislav Zakirov, a high level member of the Russian Mob. Now we could go after this piece of shit as well, but that would be more of a shit show than Hong Kong was. I would recommend hitting Dough after one of these meetings, after Zakirov leaves. This minimises the risk to us, keeps us away from the Russians, and means we can take this fucker down.” The room fell quiet as soon as I finished my speech; I was done talking so I just waited for someone to say something, a glance up at One revealed he was avoiding looking at me after his last words to me in person. After a few minutes with not a single word I decided I was done sitting around, I picked up my laptop once more, I walked past One and said loudly “Was that fucking good enough for you? Prick” lit another cigarette and walked out the hanger.  

Now with nothing to do to take my mind off everything that had happened over the past weeks I felt lost and unable to get rid of my anger, so a ritualistic activity was needed. Cleaning my guns and sharpening my knives. I walked to a rusted airplane fuselage across the lot that was upcycled into the armoury for the team, and over to my gear and started to lay out the items needed. I started with my knives, unsheathing the blades and placing them on the metal bench, and one by one sharpening them with my trusty bastard file, quickly washing away any shavings that might be left on the knife-edge and rubbing them down with lubricant, thankfully gun lubricant works for this as that’s all I had left. As I was sharpening the last blade I noticed it was slightly bent, possibly from the last mission, so I made quick work of straightening it out, placing it slightly offset from a piece of the fuselage and using my body weight. Not the best way to do it but after years I found it was the quickest. After all my knives were sharpened I started the formulaic process of cleaning my guns. Rolling out a towel and placing the brushes, lubricant, cleaning solvent and cotton swabs down and disassembling my guns one at a time. I found myself falling into rhythm, the clicks and smells of the cleaning solution taking my mind off the joke that was this teams current state of being. As I was working on my last gun my heightened instincts told me that someone was coming towards the armoury. I grabbed one of my knives and used my shirt to wipe away any remaining lubricant, and with one swift move I turned on the stool I was on and threw the blade. The knife pierced the plastic on the side of the planes body right by the door, a warning throw, not intended to harm but to scare away whoever was coming. “Fuck me dead Eight! You have to stop doing that to me” One’s voice, dripping with frustration and anger broke the silence of the room. “Maybe you should’ve learnt your lesson from last time and avoid sneaking up on me when I’m pissed off” I sneered, my attention was back to my gun, with one final click the barrel was back in place. “The fuck do you want, can’t you see I’m busy?” “Well we all wanted to know if you were coming back to the briefing or if you were gonna wallow here in self-pity” One snorted. That does it. I let loose another blade, this time aiming for his thigh, but he saw it coming and quickly dodged it. “See I did learn from last time” “Leave me alone One, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now. Last I checked, we were the ones working our asses off on your vendetta missions while you hang around out of danger and piss us all off.” I was yelling at this point. I was never one to hide my anger and One had hit just the right buttons, that and Four who was being the exact definition of a fuck boy right now, was enough to make me explode. “Now unless you’re here to apologise I suggest you get lost” my voice was almost a snarl at this point.

That’s when I noticed that the rest of the ghosts were also in the room with us, all but Two seemed surprised by my outburst, and even more so at my complete disregard to if I hit One or not. She had what almost looked like a smile on her lips. One pushed past them all in a huff, a string of profanities leaving his lips, all focused towards me. After a few awkward moments Two broke the silence. “Well I’m no pussy so I’ll speak. We agree with your plan, it’s smart and the easiest way to take him out. Also One is a dick. He wants to apologise but his ego is getting in the way” her French accent bringing an air of class to her words. The rest of the ghosts nodded along with her words.

“Right well he knows where to find me if he decides to pull his head out of his ass and apologise” I told her, standing from my position and making my way out of the room “excuse me, I need to be alone right now” I made my way past my team mates and out into the thick humidity of the Californian desert, unsure where I was going, but knowing I didn’t want to be around anyone.  

[exkernal]

My Only Peace: 3/?

William insists he stay the night, and after a token protest, Nelson agrees. To his surprise, William leads him to his old bedroom.

"But it's the master," he says, confused. "It should be yours."

"Didn't feel right," Will mutters, and that's all the explanation he'll give.

It's exactly as Nelson left it two years ago, with one notable addition on the mantelpiece: a framed photograph of the original Minutemen at the height of their glory.

Nelson stares at the youthful faces of his comrades. They're all old or dead or disgraced now. He sees his younger self, brimming with confidence that bordered on the absurd, standing close to Hooded Justice, who looked like a god among men. Even in the black and white photograph, his desire for closeness is obvious. How he couldn't resist the back pats and shoulder clasps, or any of the other myriad of socially acceptable touches that always lingered a little too long.

Little wonder that their relationship became an open secret among the Minutemen.

Nelson sinks into the old familiar bed, but he already knows he'll have trouble sleeping that night. After all, this was the very place where he and Will made love for the first time.

"Making love" was probably not the right term for it. He'd lusted after William from the moment he first appeared in the New York Gazette. At first he told himself that it was simply admiration, but it was the beginnings of a school boy crush, the kind that used to keep him awake at night in the boarding school dormitory, intrigued and disturbed at the same time.

After his brief meeting at the Reeves' home, he reached two conclusions: that young Officer Reeves was not a simple courier but Hooded Justice himself, and that there was a spark between them.

He cautioned himself. He'd become quite adept at recognizing the subtle cues that men put out, but he'd been wrong before. One of those wrongs resulted in a black eye and cracked rib, which he passed off to his fellow Marines as the result of a drunken fall after a night partying. Luckily, the other officer was too embarrassed to tell their superior, or else Nelson would've lost more than his pride.

It goes without saying that Will wasn't what he expected--and truthfully, Nelson's only experiences with black people were as servants--but it didn't take long for him to fall head over heels.

To stave off the early morning awkwardness, Will suggests they go out to brunch. The diner is similar to their old meeting place, though slightly more upscale. IT reminded him, bitterly, of their last conversation together.

Don't think about that now, he tells himself. Not when William is actually speaking to him.

"Don't worry," Will mutters, opening up a newspaper. "If anyone asks, we're two retired cops catching up."

Nelson bristles a little. "I'm not worried."

And he's not. There was a time when that's all he'd be thinking about, but those days are long gone.

"Isn't that your friend?" Will says, jabbing at a black and white photo of Adrian Veidt. "Ozy-man-mouthful-of-a-name?"

He snorts. "I wouldn't call him a friend exactly. We've barely spoken since my, uh, bout of foolishness in '66."

The waitress brings them their coffee. Nelson doesn't wait for the scalding beverage to cool off. He's too eager to do something with his hands.

"Speaking of Veidt," he says, "he told me an interesting theory about you."

"Oh yeah?" Will raises an eyebrow.

"He investigated Hooded Justice's disappearance before I ever formed the Crimebusters. Apparently, it led him straight to Eddie Blake. Eddie mistook him for a criminal, and beat him up."

William chuckles. "You don't say."

A smile twists at Nelson's lips. "Adrian concluded, based on your documented feud, that Eddie killed you back in '55."

His expression darkens. "As if that sniveling little pissant  could ever get the drop on me. I should've snapped his worthless neck after he attacked Sally."

"That probably would've been for the best," Nelson agrees. "I thought it best to let Adrian believe his theory--after all, you don't want the worlds smartest man on your case. "

"More like the world's best PR man," Will mutters.

Nelson clears his throat. "Have you read Hollis's book?"

"Might've skimmed it in an airport," he says breezily. "Why?"

"According to Hollis, you were an East German strong man with, um, strange proclivities whose body was found in Boston Harbor in 1955."

Will's whole body shook when he laughed. Making Will genuinely laugh-- not a wry chuckle or sardonic snort, but a real honest to God laugh-- was so rare that Nelson always savored the sound like it was the New York orchestra. He joins in.

The waitress brings them their plates of bacon and eggs, and their laughter dies down.

"It's funny how they all thought my costume was some sex thing," William says, voice light, but there's a slight menace to his words. "Think that says more about them than me."

He's dying to ask William the meaning behind his costume. That was one thing they never discussed during their relationship. Yet he hesitates. Maybe they didn't discuss it for a reason.

"Nothing against Hollis," Will goes on, "but he never knew when to keep his mouth shut."

"I had to call him on the verge of tears to stop him from publishing more details about...about us," Nelson says. It hadn't been the verge of tears, but William doesn't need to know that.

He and Will rarely broached the topic of "us," never defining the relationship that consumed Nelson's life for sixteen years. They had to keep it secret, for one. For another, Will was a married father for most of it. Friendship is what he called it in his will. "He was a very good friend," is how he explained it whenever anyone questioned him about Hooded Justice. He always hated it, just a little bit, but that hatred paled in comparison to the terror of being found out.

Will frowns. "Yeah. Sally wasn't too happy with some of the stuff he said."

"Mm," Nelson goes. "That's a bit of a pot-kettle situation. Sally basically outed me in her latest interview, without naming any names. It's was still abundantly clear who she meant, though."

"She probably didn't think it mattered, since we all thought you were dead." Will says that last part with an edge to his voice.

"I don't really blame Sally," he says, eager to avoid that conversation again. Keep it light, Nelly. "Did I use that term correctly? Outed?"

"How should I know?" Will says through a mouthful of eggs.

"You're the one who lived in San Francisco."

"Yeah, but I wasn't hanging around that scene. Not that much, anyway. I know as much about the counterculture as you do."

Nelson feels warm, and it has nothing to do with his coffee (which is lukewarm now, anyway). He has no claim on Will's heart, and it certainly isn't his business if he's had any dalliances (Lord knows Nelson hasn't refrained). Still. He's glad all the same.

Will glances at the window. "You know, it's a good thing for the young ones coming up. That they have a community that's putting up a fight. Maybe it won't be as hard for them as it was for us."

He's surprised that Will's bringing it up. This is the closest he's ever heard his former lover come to acknowledging that he was a man involved with men. Not that he ever expected him to; after all, Nelson rarely verbalized it either, thanks to his years of keeping it secret. Even now, as an old nameless man with nothing left to lose, he couldn't completely let go of his fear.

"Yes," he mumbles, "it is."

Will insists on paying. "Technically it's your money," Will says when Nelson resists. Now that brunch is over, he's not sure what to do with himself. At the diner, they had a good report going. But now what happens when there's nothing to do? Will William come to his senses and get sick of the tag-along?

"Wanna see how I spent your money?" Will asks. They journey through New York's mobbed streets, as much an adventure as his days soldiering through the jungle.

Will explains that he auctioned off the Minutemen memorabilia  for the Southern Poverty Law Center. "That was a good idea that you had," he comments, "so I did it. Altogether, it came too nearly a million."

William doesn't mention the one piece of memorabilia he's kept, so Nelson doesn't either.

They stop at a grand old movie theater, the kind that was popular when Nelson was a boy. It looks as if it's been recently touched up, casting an impressive figure. William looks at him expectantly.

"You bought a theater?" Nelson says. Well, it makes sense; Will was always a cinephile.

"And fixed it up," he says proudly. "When I first started working here, it was a dump. Now it's the most profitable historical theater in the borough."

William gives him the tour.

"We play all kinds of films here. The modern stuff, but we also show classics. There's theme nights, too. Some of the kids get all dressed up for some of the showings, but I don't know much about that. If we hurry, there's a showing I want you to see."

William takes him to a projector room. There's a smattering of people in the theater below, maybe a dozen scattered along the wide rows. A young white man with wiry long black hair sits by the projector, loading up a reel.

"Mr. Reeves?" he says, more politely than his appearance would suggest. He looks curiously at Nelson.

"You can take an early lunch break, Don," Will says. "I've got it from here."

"Thank you, Mr. Reeves!" the youth says. He doesn't hesitate to take him up on the offer.

The movie starts. It's a black and white, silent picture that takes Nelson back to his childhood. A man chases another on horseback, his face obscured by a hood.

"This is that film you always talked about," Nelson says. "Trust in the Law, was it?"

"I'm surprised you remember," Wilal says. Nelson's a little offended by that. But only a little, seeing what an ass he'd been before.

He also remembers that a young Will was watching this movie when a race riot broke out in Tulsa. William mentioned it once, early in their relationship. At the time, Nelson privately assumed that Will was exaggerating; he was only a child when it happened, so surely it couldn't have been as bad as he said. Or perhaps, if it was bad, than it was somehow...justified. Now, the memory sickens him. He wishes he could go back in time and knock some sense into his younger self.

"Didn't it inspire you to become Hooded Justice?" he asks. The flicking black and white light casts shadows on their faces.

"Partly," Will says. He looks directly at Nelson. "I never did tell you what made me put on the mask that first time."

Nelson feels cold. There's a shift in Will's tone that seems to change the very air around them. It feels ominous.

"It started with Cyclops," he says with a faraway look in his eyes. "Though I didn't know it at the time. I arrested a white man for throwing a Molotov cocktail at a Jewish deli. When I brought him in, some other officers took him off my hands, saying they'd book him. Days later, I saw the same man walking free.

"I was told not to question it. But I couldn't let it go. So one night, when I was walking home, three of my fellow officers jumped me in an alley. They beat me, forced me into their car, and drove to a secluded area. They tied my hands together, put a bag over my head and a noose around my neck, and strung me up from a tree."

"What?!" Nelson gasps. His hands ball into fists, clenching his pants leg. How is this the first time he's hearing about it?

"I struggled and kicked. I felt myself chocking to death. I was so sure I was going to die. But they cut me down. I was a crumpled mess on the ground, sputtering and coughing, when the officer yanked the bag off. He got right up in my face like this," William leans so close that his breath's in Nelson's ear.

He whispers what the officer told him that night, directly into his ear. Nelson feels sick to his stomach. He wants this to stop now. But willful ignorance won't change what's been done to Will.

Will leans back. "I walked home in a trance, with the noose around my neck and the bag in my hands. Couldn't tell you what I was thinking, even if I wanted to. Guess you could call it being on autopilot. As I got close to home, I heard a lady screaming in an alleyway. A couple was being robbed. I didn't think. I ripped eye holes in the bag and put it back on. Then I beat the robbers to a bloody pulp. They weren't the ones who wronged me, but it felt so good to act. To have power. To bring justice, even if it was justice for something as small as a mugging.

"The next day, I saw it in the newspaper. They called me a hero. And well, you know the rest."

William looks off at the screen, where the townsfolk cheer for Bass Reeves.

"William..." Nelson says weakly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Without looking, he says, "Would it have made a difference back then?"

He wants to say yes. Yes, of course it would have. If Will had told Nelson about being lynched, for God's sake, then Nelson would've cared. Even when he was at his most racist, he still would've believed the man he loved. Wouldn't he?

But then...he'd had doubts about Tulsa. He hadn't believed Will then. William tried to tell him many things over the years, tried to open his eyes, yet Nelson remained willfully blind until it was too late. Until Will's absence finally caused him to reevaluate those beliefs. So if William had told him about being lynched in 1939, would it have been enough to finally make Nelson change? Or would it have been another Tulsa?

"I don't know," he croaks, mouth dry.

"Yeah, well, this way we never have to know the answer," Will mutters.

The words resonate with Nelson. If they knew the answer, then well, maybe they wouldn't be having this conversation right now. There were some things that William could never forgive. Perhaps they both needed the deniability.

Hesitantly, Nelson puts his hand on William's knee. William lets him. "I'm so sorry, Will. I'm sorry it happened, and I'm sorry that you couldn't tell me. I should have been there for you. I should've...God, I wish I could change so much. And I want to kill those officers."

William finally looks at him.

"Don't worry," he grunts, "I killed most of them, the night of the warehouse fire. When I called you about Cyclops mind control."

"Oh," Nelson mumbles. Regret hits him all over again. Why hadn't he listened to William back then? To think how different there lives might have been if he had. "I should've listened to you. I should've helped you get the bastards. I'm--I'm sorry I was such a racist little prick."

"I always know you're serious when you start cussing," Will says wryly.

Nelson snorts. It comes out more like a sniffle.

"Don't tell me you're crying again," Will says, but he can't help it. The nicer William is to him, the worse he feels. We wishes Will would scream at him or strike him, anything that would make them even. The house doesn't feel like enough. The money isn't enough.

"I'm sorry," he says, again, rubbing at his tear-stained cheeks. "I didn't--I'm not--"

"You're not making any sense," he says. "Nelson, calm down."

"I just want you know," he says shakily, "that it wasn't the mask."

"What?"

"It wasn't the mask I fell in love with. That's not true. Maybe I didn't show it the right way, maybe I was too selfish and blind to treat you the way you deserved, but it was never the mask. I really did love you, Will. Please believe me."

"Nelly," Will says softly.There's no anger in his beautiful brown eyes, no hatred. They're softer than usual, showing something that Nelson won't dare read.

Will's hand cups the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair in a way that's a little rough and a little tender, just like he remembers. For a moment, they stay like that, faces bent towards each other, eyes locked on one another.

He's not sure who initiates it, but when their lips meet it's surprisingly gentle. Their first time was all raw passion; their last, bittersweet. This is something new entirely. William pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, as the movie plays in the background.

Nelson can't bring himself to care about anything else.

[comedianrobotmaster]

PSA for future Megaman design sketches

[Sorry for being inactive on here for quite a while, college got busy, but I’m managing to stay on top of it for now.] So, up until this point the re-designs I’ve been drawing and formulating have stayed relatively close to the source material [ and Ariga’s wonderful designs/style], the next batch including the star-droids from megaman V, robot-masters from megaman 3, and a select few others will have different distinct styles due to some differences of interpretation [I guess it could be called ‘headcannons’ as well]. Some of it could be considered too weird, so below I’ll type a brief warning for the major differences of some design points for each re-design. [P.S. I finished the re-design sketches for Mercury, I chose to post this first because it’s a PSA and it would defeat the purpose because its one of the re-designs included on here- it will be posted shortly.]

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Since the Stardriods are from outer space and technically ‘aliens’, I decided to go the horror/deeply unsettling theme with their designs mainly because anything from outer space is probably going to appear otherworldly and unsettling anyways; they will still be from outer space, they will still look ‘alien’ like, but still retain some aspects of their original designs.

The Stardroids, as a whole, is a intergalactic gang headed by Ra-Moon, who are ruthlessly set out to destroy any inhabited planet in their path- the group is diverse with some being organic organisms, cybernetic beings, heavily modified cyborgs, and highly advanced alien robots [each of them also serves a role on the space ship they travel in, I don’t want to spoil too much here so I’ll leave those details in their re-design descriptions.]

Mercury, since he poses the ability to turn into a green slime and have a weapon that saps away energy, I thought it would make more sense if he was the green morphing slime because it seemed more likely, out of the countless galaxies out there, that a living [and horrific] organism would have those characteristics than a robot made as an experiment. 

Venus is a unsettling man-sized alien lobster/crustacean that wears a weaponized robotic suit of armor that features orbs that emit a high intensity of electric bolts in nearly every direction. [It seemed logical that a group of aliens from various different galaxies/planets wouldn't necessarily be all humanoid in shape and appearance.]

Neptune, Jupiter and Uranus are Cyborgs; Neptune is an intelligent eel-like alien connected into a robotic combat suit/life-support system- Jupiter was once mostly an organic alien, but overtime dedicated almost the rest of his body as a specialized weapon system, only his brain remains inside of his weaponized shell. Uranus was once organic, but made the decision to replace his entire body [except his brain] body with cybernetic enhancements after he started to degrade with age. [I figured some diversity was a good thing here with their own individual reasons for being cyborgs.]

Pluto was formerly a cyborg, but eventually uploaded his mind into a digital format to become completely robotic with some help from Terra. [Since Pluto is associated with being a god of the underworld, I went to various lengths into making his re-design show that aspect by making it look as unsettling and alien as I possibly could while also retaining Pluto’s cat-like nature/traits.]His overall appearance could be best described as terrifying since he has four spider-like arms with retractable swards, a absurdly tall and thin body, a long flexible neck covered in translucent fur, [actually based this part off of cats because my cat at home appears to have a vary short fluffy neck one moment, the next moment she spots something on the ceiling and extends her neck to full length; its quite funny looking, but also has the potential to be somewhat unsettling when this same kind of characteristic is seen in something less cute/fluffy and more unfamiliar.] and a horizontal helmet with a smooth digital screen instead of a face [The screen has a simplistic tamagotchi-cat face/emojis on it to show emotions].

Terra is cybernetic, meaning he [and the super advanced world he came from] was born robotic with all of the perks of being a robot. His appearance is alien-like, but still humanoid; and instead of having a large mane of green hair, he has abstract shapes in the general shape of glowing neon green hair being projected by a holographic grid-like system along his head [I tried to shy away from hair when it came to aliens (with the exception being Pluto) because I felt it was too specific to be found on another planet with nearly the same characteristics/placement].

Saturn and Mars are advanced robots built by Terra; they have individual personalities and Advanced A.I.- Saturn's design is specialized in that his entire torso could spin independently from his lower waist to maximize his disk throwing [Seemed like a interesting design choice that also served a function]; Mars’ design features a vary heavy build with nearly every part of him doubling as weapon of some sort [He is going to appear slightly chubby, but chubby with weapons].

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Since Megaman 3 took place in outer space on eight different planets with the Energy Elements on said planets; the re-designs of the robot-masters are going to be space themed with some characteristics based on real spacesuits [don’t worry, they'll still look like Megaman robot-masters]. I won’t list all eight on here, but here are a key few:

Topman’s re-design features multiple industrial cutting lasers on his upper torso- so when he spins to attack, everything around him is sliced up by the lasers. [I figured that was way more efficient then just the spinning for an attack]

Snakeman’s re-design, since he was built to explore tight areas on foreign planets/ruins, features flexible, air pump-based joints and frame to allow him to crawl into any crevice so long as his helmet could fit [basically, he has no solid joints and framework to limit his flexibility in his limbs and body].

Shadowman’s re-design, since he was found in ruins and is hinted at having an alien origins, is mainly going to appear similar to a stardriod because of the alien aspect, however he will still be humanoid with a human-like face like an average robot-master.

[P.S. I’m not tagging this as a official ‘PSA’ mainly because it only has to do with my re-designs and nothing too major (and also I don’t wan’t an angry digital mob to swarm upon me on here)]

[onceuponadetectivedemigod]

House Of The Rising Sun

Part One

Pairing: Female Reader x Ben Hardy

Warnings: language, references to sex but no actual smut, alcohol, guns

Summary: New Orleans, 1923. There is a House, who covers as a Mythology Museum however it’s is actually housing the most dangerous mob around. Ben, an English businessman, comes seeking a new life in The United States. Gwylim, sneaks in alcohol into the states, specifically to The House’s Speakeasy, during prohibition. While Roger, Brian, and Lucy, from a sister mob in the UK come to help out Rami, Joe, and The House. Meanwhile Y/N runs away from home to become a flapper and when all their paths cross Ben, and Y/N get mixed up in the wrongs stuff at the wrong time.

Chapter Summary: Ben gets to New Orleans and meets a beautiful young flapper. 

Word Count: 2,812

AN: So I was listening to House of The Rising Sun by The Animals AND I HAD A VISION SO HERE YOU GO! Lmk if you like it, if you hate it, ect. Also  I HAVE A WHOLE DAMN PLAYLIST FOR BEN HARDY to which you can find here: Ben’s Playlist New songs are added regularly! Also I am not trying to “cross-tag” in this. I am typically guilty of it, but with this particular story, I would like people other than ben stans to read it because I quite proud of it and it will have more of everyone in it later.

Today I woke up to the soft playing of jazz from across the street. I was living with with these two boys I met when I got here. Joe and Rami. They told me I could stay as long as I wished. They won’t tell me what their job is but I know they work together. They constantly invite me to parties and cool speakeasies, maybe they smuggle alcohol. I’m not sure, but they always avoid talking about it. I got out of bed and looked out the window, towards the beautiful music. I opened the window and let in the perfectly  cool breeze. I let the music fill the house as I walked downstairs. “Hey boys!” “Morning, Y/N/N! You doing good today?” Joe asked. “Well I woke up to a nice breeze and some smooth, seductive jazz.” “Seductive?” Rami asked, as he walked in. “Joe is not seductive.” His response made me giggle. “Not Joe, THE JAZZ!” I laughed. Joe was born and raised in California and moved down here a few years ago. Rami’s parents were Egyptian and he was a first generation American. His parents moved down here seeking a new life. “Makes sense. What you up to today?” Rami said. “Oh I don’t know.” I responded. “Maybe catch a parade. I love that I came just in time for Mardi Gras!” “Well if you want, the speakeasy is open tonight. The code is ‘God save the Queen.’” Joe told me. “I will probably make an appearance. How do you get all the codes?” I asked him. “You gotta know the right people, which I do, and you do. So don’t worry about it. See you there tonight.” He responded. “See you boys tonight!” I giggled as you kissed them both on the cheek and ran back upstairs to my room. I am thankful you found these two. I met them on the trolley. They saw my small suitcase and asked if I needed a place to stay. They had an extra room available and were willing to let me stay. We have grown quite close since I moved here a month ago. I walked towards the closet and put on my favorite dress! It was black with gold beading, and it came up above my ankles. I love wearing short dresses; all the old rich men look at me funny. It makes me feel happy when I throw everyone’s sense of order right into hell. Once I was done I grabbed my purse and hat and marched down the stairs. “Bye boys!” I shouted as I started out the door. I heard them both say bye back and made my way down to Café Du Monde, for the best beignets in town. I was almost there and the line was fairly short. I took another few steps, closed my eyes, and breathed in that soft smell of powdered sugar and the misty water. Suddenly a man with a brief case ran into me. “Oh! Miss, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you!” He spoke with an unfamiliar accent. We both scrambled to the ground to pick up his stuff. He smelled like cigars and cinnamon. He had short blonde hair and his eyes were greener than an evergreen. “Hey, it’s all right! I’m Y/N. If you don’t mind me askin’ where are you from? I haven’t heard nobody with an accent like that.” I asked him, as I handed him the spilled contents. “Ben. I uh, am from England. I just moved to the U.S. a few weeks ago. Been trying to make my way down here from New York. Trying to start a new life.” He said, putting everything back in the brief case. “Well, Ben, You came awfully long way. But you definitely came to the right place! This town right here is perfect for running away to a new life.” I told him. “That’s what I like to hear. I guess, I will maybe see you around, Miss Y/N.” He told me. “Yeah, Maybe See you around Mister, Ben.” I said back. We both walked our separate ways as I went and got in line. After I ate, I just went on my daily walk through the city. Everything seemed just as usual. Then I saw that Ben boy getting thrown out of a building by two larger gentleman. I ran over to him. “Hey, you okay?” I asked helping him, once again collect his things. “Yeah. Fine. We can’t keep doing this. You always helping me pick up my things.” He smiled at me. “It really is no problem. What happened in there?” I asked him. “I guess I’m to progressive for that lot. I was interviewing for a jo-“ He looked up, and stopped, and pulled me into the alley beside the building. He put his hand over my mouth as he noticed I was about to scream. I was trying to get him off of me when he whispered “Please don’t scream! I swear I’m not gonna hurt you! Please, I can explain if you are quiet!” I stopped fighting against him, but kept my guard up. He moved his hand off my mouth. “Those are three around the corner are apart of the most dangerous mob in London. If you even look at them funny they will shoot you! So please just be careful. I don’t know you all that well but I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” He spoke. I nodded and looked around the corner, extremely carefully. I noticed two older gentleman and a very pretty, younger, blonde woman. All three were dressed nicely and the woman looked as if she would only wear the fanciest of perfumes. I turned back and looked at him. “Them? They look like they wouldn’t even harm a fly. She looks way too nice and way too high class to be in a mob.” I told him. “They steal all of their money. They kill while doing it. Please just believe me, Y/N.”   He looked at me. His face has pure fear written all over it. “Why are you so afraid of them? If you leave them alone, you won’t have a problem.” I told him. He looked down and blushed. “Were you involved with them? Oh MY GOD YOU WERE!” “SH! Keep your voice down! They can’t know I’m here. It’s not that I was apart of the mob, I wasn’t. But I know one of the older men, Roger. I didn’t know he was in the mob. I was just trying to get a job and he told me, he would pay me to drive him around. So I got a job as his driver. Eventually I found out too much, I found out that he not only was in, but was in charge of the mob. When he asked if it was a problem, I told him yes and quit. I heard he had been looking for me but I never knew he would go to this length to try and find me.” As he explained, my sympathy for him grew. These three were coming to make sure he didn’t tell anyone of their shenanigans. “Okay... so are we just supposed to hide in this alleyway?” I asked. I was too late. The three of them rounded the corner. “Well. Well. Well. There is my boy, Ben! Who do we have here? A new girlfriend, Benny? You know I didn’t know you’d be in town. Quite surprised, actually. But while we are in town, maybe we can kill to birds with one stone eh?” The one I presumed was Roger spoke. He wore a red velvet suit. He also smelled like cigars but also like pine and lilac. He had gorgeous blue eyes. Dangerous blue eyes. His hair was gray and he had a very high but raspy voice. The other man had thick, curly, silver hair. He was a bit taller. He was in a Purple velvet suit. He seemed a lot softer. He looked almost concerned at your fear. And the woman, she had short blonde hair, but she was stunning. She was dressed in a nice long black dress with spaghetti straps. A little showy for most of the country’s taste, but I thought it was beautiful. “I asked your name sweetheart!” Roger shouted at me, pulling me from my trans-like state. “Y/N.” “No last name?” The girl spoke. Her actual voice was very soft but her tone was so harsh that it was scarier than Roger’s. “I don’t like it much. Too many family ties.” I said without going into detail. “Look Roger. She has nothing to do with any of this. You want me.” Ben spoke. “You think I honestly care what happens to her? I don’t. But since you nobly step forward it means you must care.” He looked at Ben then focused his attention on the girl. “Lucy make sure she comes with us.” “Yes, sir.” “Roger! I swear to God that I won’t tell anyone, please! Don’t do this!” Ben pleaded. My heart started beating faster and faster. Was I about to die? What was going to happen next? “That’s enough! We are taking both of you. We will decide what to do with you after that.” Roger shouted. “Roger, while I do think we need to take care of him, he said he wouldn’t tell. She has nothing to do with th-“ the taller one spoke. “Brian! We can’t talk big and not be able to follow through with action! We will discuss it after the meeting. Get the car.” Roger looked at him. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some servant! I am your equal Rog! We run this together.” Brian whispered harshly. “But I will get the car, only because you lost THE FUCKING DRIVER!” He turned around and in 45 seconds drove a nice black car towards the alley way. Roger walked around to the passenger side and got in. “Get In or I will shoot you.” Lucy said very plainly. I did as she said and Ben followed. What kind of shit did this kid get himself into? We pulled into an empty lot somewhere I wasn’t familiar with. We sat there for hours. Roger, Lucy, and Brian stepped out of the car. At this point it was dark outside. No one had really said much, surely not me and Ben. But once they stepped outside of the car, I had my with him. “WHAT KIND OF SHIT HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INTO?! WE ARE BOTH GOING TO DIE! I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO DIE! I LITERALLY JUST MET YOU TODAY!" I whisper-shouted at him. "THIS WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! THEY WEREN'T SUPPOS-" he started but was cut off when everyone got back into the car. Roger hopped into the driver side this time. Our next stop was a random boat launch. It looked abandoned but, it was night time so it was not going to be busy. I looked around out the window. All three of the monsters stepped outside again. It was quiet for a minute then I heard a muffled voice that I didn’t quite recognize. It felt as if they were putting something in the trunk of the car. Suddenly the door opened. “If you want to live, sit in his lap.” Roger spoke to me as he pointed a gun at my face. I did as he told and sat in Ben’s lap. Then a new man got into the car and Lucy followed. Roger got back in the drivers seat and Brian back in the passenger. The ride was a bit bumpy sitting on Ben’s lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist to steady me. The ride was short and we pulled up to the club that I frequent. This was the speakeasy that Rami and Joe got me into. The music was blaring so loud it was hard to understand why the cops haven’t busted the place. Roger opened our door, pointing the gun back at us. He motioned for us to hop out. We did as told in fear of what would happen if we didn’t obey. They walked up to the door and knocked the secret knock. A slit in the middle of the door opened up and I saw Allen. Allen was an Irishman who came here. He worked as the doorman for the club. Allen cleared his throat. “Who is it?” Allen asked. “Allen, open the goddamn door.” Roger whisper yelled at him. “No can do sir. You know the rules. Give me the code and you enter.” Allen was always a good doorman for the club. “He didn’t give me the fucking code. You know us!” Brian said. “GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!” I shouted in fear of my life. I just wanted to be somewhere I was familiar with. “Y/N! Is that you?” Allen asked opening the door. “Look Allen, let us in please! I really don’t want to die tonight.” He opened the door all the way, ushering us all in. “He is upstairs waiting for you all.” Allen said to Roger and Brian. Roger pointed his gun at us and then at the stairs directly in front of us. “Go!” He said. We started up the stairs. It was much quieter up here. You could definitely still hear the music but not as loudly as before. Lucy grabbed some rope that was hidden in her garter under her dress and tied our hands to the door handles across from the room they were about to enter. “Stay put, or I kill you both.” She smiled following the other three men as the entered the room and locked the door behind them. “How did you know the code?” Ben looked at me. “I frequent. I have friends who I think work here or something. I’m not entirely sure what they do, but they always give me the right code. Who was the other man?” “He smuggles alcohol into the states. Specifically for this club. It’s run by a sister gang of Roger’s. They call themselves The House. The leader is an old friend of Roger’s and Brian’s. It’s funny that you know the code and don’t even know the background of it.” He laughed. “What do you mean?” I inquired. “Queen. That’s the name of their gang. God save the Queen. This meeting has been planned. They probably didn’t tell them what the code would be because they thought they would guess it.” Ben laughed. “I don’t understand what’s funny.” “Oh. Just that I’ve run this far and now I’m gonna die here tonight.” He laughed more. “To think I could actually be safe.” “Ben, if you knew the sister gang was here in New Orleans, WHY WOULD YOU COME HERE?!” I whisper yelled at him. “I was mislead. I thought they were in New York. I can see now I was gravely mistaken.” “Y/N?” I snapped my head towards the stairs. “RAMI? JOE? MY GOD ARE YOU GUYS IN TROUBLE TOO?” “Y/N who did you get in trouble with?” Rami asked me, looking fearful. The door to the meeting room opened. This other man walked out. My guess is the other mob boss. He was holding a gun and he pointed it at me. “WAIT! Sir! We know her! She is not going to tell anyone!” Joe spoke up. “If anything sir, she needs a job! We can recruit her! Please don’t kill her.” Rami spoke up. “RECRUIT ME?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I looked at them and back at the gun pointed at my face. Ben bursted into a laughing fit. “WHAT?!” I snapped my head towards him. “Y/N, your friends here are involved with the house.” He laughed shaking his head. “She needs a job? Alright. Untie them. Bring them in.” The other older man spoke. He had a unique British accent. He motioned for us to enter the room. We were standing in a dark lit room with the other man sitting in front of us behind a desk, with Brian and Roger on either side of him. Lucy guarded the door. The Alcohol Smuggler stood by the window, minding his own business. Rami and Joe stood behind Ben and I, who were seated. “Benjamin right?” The mob boss asked. “Just Ben.” He answered simply, looking completely unafraid. “Your name, sweetheart?” “Y/N.” I answered, fear making my voice shake. “Okay. Ben. Y/N. I willing to spare your lives, if you join us. We have a war coming. I need all the soldiers I can get. You either say you are in or you die. By the way my name is John. You’ve met the others. So what do you say?”

Taglist: @bitemerog @sevenseasofrog

[serenlyss]

Mob Psycho Fic Recs Part 3

Here we go again! I’ve racked up another 10 bookmarks to share. As always, if you are the author of any of these wonderful fics and want to have your tumblr tagged just let me know!

Parental Supervision Author: piperita Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: dad reigen, good parent reigen, protective reigen, found family Summary: Reigen finds out that Teruki lives alone. No parents, foster parents, or even a hired caretaker. He doesn't know exactly what he's going to do with this information, but it's certainly not 'nothing'. Or: Reigen's awkward, messy, and backwards guide to adopting psychic children. My Notes: Just a nice cute fic about Reigen looking out for and helping take care of Teru after finding out that he lives on his own. It’s cute and very sweet how Reigen takes a kind of backwards approach to helping out Teru, since Teru is way too stubborn to allow himself to be completely cared for by someone else. I really love Reigen and Teru’s dynamic in this fic so far and I’m excited to see more!

aquarium Author: amaranthinecanicular Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, mermaid au, background terumob Summary: It was just a fairytale. One of those bedtime stories parents tell their kids to make them wary of the surface. Merfolk didn’t fall in love with humans, they didn’t fall for the sweet words of seawitches and they didn’t fall out of the ocean with legs only to fall back as seafoam. It was just a fairytale. It was supposed to be a fairytale. My Notes: One of my all-time favorite ritshou fics, I go back and reread it all the time! I’m such a sucker for mermaid fics and this one is super beautifully written. It’s poetic and flows so so well, it wraps you in from the very beginning with its gorgeous prose and mysterious story. It’s definitely been an inspiration to me in pursuing a more descriptive and flowery writing style for certain fics. The budding friendship between Shou and Ritsu is endearing and believable and very in character, and the little mermaid inspiration brings a familiarity to the story as well that makes it easy to follow and understand what’s going on behind the scenes. I absolutely adore how the author writes Ritsu’s point of view, it’s just a really really solid and fun fic that I’ll continue to go back to after this.

Out of Body Author: bobmoss Rating: M Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: serirei, slow burn, mental health issues, recovery, case fic, hurt/comfort Summary: Serizawa's recovery seems to be going so well, but then he suddenly develops a habit of accidental out of body experiences during panic attacks. My Notes: A very sweet, emotional exploration of Serizawa and Reigen’s budding relationship post-world domination arc. I absolutely love the way the author writes these two as friends who know and understand each other, and how that leads into an eventual romance. It has some really heart-stoppingly scary dramatic moments, too, for being such a character-centered story, which took me pleasantly by surprise. I really look forward to what the author has planned for the future of this fic!

Night Terrors Author: futuresoon Rating: T Archive Warnings: Unspecified (there’s some blood/injury and horror elements, but nothing too extreme) Completion Status: Complete Tags: Yomawari: Midnight Shadows fusion (no knowledge needed to read), horror, angst, alternate universe Summary: Ritsu wants psychic powers more than he wants almost anything. But he didn’t expect them to only be good for seeing spirits, and he didn’t expect them to only appear after his brother walks into the forest and doesn’t come back. Now the town is full of monsters, and all Ritsu can do is search for his brother--but even powerful children are still children, and the night is not always kind. My Notes: This fic really took me by surprise, since I had never played Yomawari and knew nothing about it before reading this. It’s dark and relatively scary as far as my usual taste in fics go, but it’s written really well. The author is really good at displaying the hopeless aura of the situation without making it seem like all is lost, and the atmosphere and constantly moving story make it really easy to get lost in this dark alternate reality. It’s not really a happy fic, though, and the ending is rather bittersweet, so be aware if you decide to read this one.

The Accelerated Velocity of Terminological Inexactitude Author: LogicalBookThief Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: terumob, fake dating au, slow build/slow burn, crushes, pining, holding hands, slight angst, mentions of mogami arc Summary: Teru offers to fake date Mob in order to gain Tsubomi's attention. His own crush on Mob makes this plan somewhat problematic. My Notes: Teru has a big ol crush on Mob and takes advantage of his crush on Tsubomi to become his fake boyfriend for a time, except it really does more harm to himself than to anyone else. The fake dating AU we all know and love, now with added mogami arc angst (just a little) and the slow realization that their fake relationship might have more truth behind it than either of them are intending. It’s a super sweet fic and a relatively quick read if you’re looking for something with meat that isn’t 100k words long. It brought quite a few smiles to my face and a couple of excited squeals as well.

Grow as we Go Author: lesboba Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: In Progress Tags: terumob, fluff, character study, hurt/comfort, dad reigen, established relationship, good person teru, post-canon, kissing, panic attacks Summary: Teru's still working on himself, but he has time and the right people with him now. My Notes: This fic is so so good and sweet, it focuses on Teru coming into his own and figuring out how to be a good person post-canon. It’s so endearing seeing him interacting with the whole Kageyama family, especially Shigeo, who he’s dating in secret, and his parents, who treat him like their own son and it’s great. It’s so nice to see Teru’s struggle to remind himself that he can change and become better from inside his own head, since in canon we only get brief mentions of what that must be like. It’s also super soft, just very very soft, and it makes me feel nice every time I go back to refresh myself on it.

Blind Eye Author: NewWorldFool Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, pining, fluff, mutual pining, john mulaney references Summary: “Yo, Ritsu!” Shou says with a nonchalant wave as he walks through the doorway, entering the threshold of the student council room. The boy in question sighs, but not unkindly. “Shou,” he says in lieu of a greeting. Shou showing up to the student council meetings has become a somewhat common occurrence even though he doesn’t even attend the school. He won’t admit the exact reason why, but Ritsu deduced it was probably to mess with him. Normally he’d be annoyed, but today? Ritsu is grateful for the interruption. (Basically a ritshou fic where they're dating but not really dating and Ritsu gets an epiphany) My Notes: This is a super sweet, super cute one-shot about how Ritsu and Shou act like they’re a couple long before they actually start dating and I love it. Shou showing up at Ritsu’s school and house out of the blue is one of my favorite fanon interpretations of him and it’s played out really well in this fic. I also love the idea of the two of them just being unabashedly affectionate when it’s just the two of them, they have such a cute relationship in this interpretation!

Cinderella-Esque Author: beanpots and Floral Fancies (lovelycoris) Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, terumob, cinderella au, curses Summary: Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a tiny kingdom that was peaceful, prosperous, and rich in romance and tradition. Tucked away in the corner of town lies a charming little stone house that's absolutely smothered by flowers of impeccable beauty. But the life around the Kageyama house belies the bane plaguing them - Ritsu Kageyama will do anything to lift the curse from his older brother. Even if it costs him a glass shoe. My Notes: This might be my favorite mob psycho fic like.. ever. I remember staying up into the early hours of the morning to read it all in one sitting because I just had to know what happened next. It’s beautifully written and leaves you on the edge of your seat wondering what might happen next, and the fantasy/cinderella vibes are so so fun to read. This art also comes with the amazing added bonus of having beautiful chapter cover art and even some mini comics slotted into the fic itself, which is such a treat to come across every single time. I highly recommend this fic to anyone who likes ritshou and terumob even a little, it’s so well-written and the characterization, specifically for Ritsu and Shigeo, is really solid.

first day Author: shcherbatskayas Rating: T Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: ritshou, school nonsense, hugs, undiagnosed dyslexia, lunch sharing, mutual pining, trauma Summary: Ritsu can't stop himself from being excited about it: Shou's first day in his class. He can't stop himself from being nervous, either. My Notes: post-canon, Shou starts attending Salt middle school and ends up in Ritsu’s class. Shou’s not really cut out for school, unsurprisingly, but Ritsu’s there to keep him company and reassure him that he’ll end up alright. Ritsu makes a pro vs con list of what it’s like to have Shou as a classmate (and to have a friend in his class who he actually likes). It’s a really sweet, nice, fluffy fic and I love the way the author writes Ritsu and Shou’s friendship and how they support each other, I just really love all of the author’s ritshou fics actually. This one was particularly nice to read though, their interpretation of Ritsu and Shou’s relationship is really nice to read and comes across very natural and close.

It’s Hard to Read When You’re Fast Asleep Author: Squishy360 Rating: G Archive Warnings: None Completion Status: Complete Tags: good brother ritsu, family fluff, ???% as a character Summary: Mob passes out. ???% wakes up. Ritsu helps his brother take care of himself in the meantime. My Notes: This fic caught me by surprise in the best way. It’s short and tame and is such a fun and interesting take on ???%’s relationship with Ritsu, how he still recognizes Ritsu as his brother and has that sort of instinctual caring attitude toward him. It’s surprisingly wholesome and comes across almost like a crack fic but it just leaves you feeling warm and happy in the end. Ritsu’s initial fear of ???% and his slow realization that he’s not going to get hurt this time is so nice to read and very cathartic overall. I really love this idea and the author executes on it really really well!