#I'm fighting for my fucking life out on these city streets

[buzz-kill]

On all levels except romantic I am able to connect other human beings.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Wraith and Nightwing

OG Schrodinger's: A CRIMELORD IS TRYING TO BE MY SUGAR DADDY

Dandadandan: Tf

Voice of Reason: You've been in Gotham for less than a month and this happens????

Thrice Danned: Why is Danny allowed a cool boyfriend but I'm not ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ

Voice of Reason: No

Dandadandan: No

OG Schrodinger's: LOL ¯⁠\⁠_⁠༼⁠ ⁠•́⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠•̀⁠ ⁠༽⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Thrice Danned: (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Well, for one thing, the squirthis younger brother was up to his usual bout of trouble. Not that Dan was too worried. At least Danny wasn't getting shot this time.

Traveling out of Amity Park after being simultaneously shoved into a new clone body was disorienting. Sure, the Fentons and Vlad were now pretty okay and he had his new identy and life—but that didn't change the fact that Clockwork was making him do 'community service'. What a load of bull.

What did his new job involve? Occasionally assisting the heroes of their world. Which has led him to Blüdhaven. Jazz's most recent demands was making sure Danny didn't die (or fake his death) in Gotham. But Fenton (and now Masters) luck strikes again and now he's staring at a fight between the city's local vigilante: Nightwing.

He's a pretty thing, that's for sure. Dan might actually get sick of how many times a civilian mentions that man's ass (it was amazing, he knows). But it would be creepy if 'Dante Mastere-Fenton' were to stalk the local hero.

He's got a coffee in hand when he sees Nightwing grapple away, smiling brightly at citizens that waved at him. It was peaceful... If not for the fact that gunshots banged loudly in the streets and Nightwing's line was suddenly cut.

Hero time.

Dan has been a victim to his siblings' commentary on the JL one to many times. He's seen the way Superman scoops up Lois Lane whenever she's made hostage and is dropped from a building.

Nightwing is in his arms seconds later, floating in the air while Dan carries the vigilante bridal style. He offers the obviously surprised man a grin, flashing his fangs.

"I'd ask if it hurt when you fell, but I did catch you in the end."

Dick wasn't expecting to fucking fall. He was usually light on his feet and not just anyone could cut any line that was supplied by Batman. He had prepared to crash, for his bones to break from the fall, but no. His body was pressed against hard and very much sculpted muscle and his eyes blew wide when he saw the man that was surely carved from fucking marble.

The hunk of a man that was surely bigger than Jason had almost fiery hair that reminded him of Kori's, just white. Clearly, he wasn't human. An almost teal tinge to his skin and deep crimson eyes—reallt handsome too. Also, he was flying.

He was being carried the same way Lois Lane was whenever Superman saved her from danger. Damn, was this how she felt? All giddy and kinda aroused excited?

Dick Grayson was not a coward and shoot his shot immediately.

"I'd have to ask what heaven's like since an angel caught me." He grinned, watching as his unknown saviour chuckled.

"I'm no angel, darling. More like a demon."

Teeth... Oh... Fangs.

"So... Can I have my saviour's name?" Dick hummed once the stranger landed in a nearby rooftop. He was... Gentle, kinda. He didn't drop Dick, or whatever, but he did make sure he was on his feet in the concrete roof.

The stranger gave him yet another toothy grin.

("I'm Phantom! I had it first in this world!" Danny argued, immediately flipping Dan off once the subject of their aliases were brought up.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to be called?! CW wants me playing hero for my 'redemption'." There's a mocking tone in his voice before he shudders at the invisible presence of the ancient.

"I have an idea!" Jazz—the only sensible one in the famil—smiled and went to giving him a name.

"How about—")

"Wraith." The stranger—Wraith—chuckled softly and tilted Dick's head a bit. Damn, that man was tall.

A second later, he was gone.

(Later, Dick hijacked the batcomputer to search for any cases that involved 'Wraith')

Part 3 | Masterpost

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

stitches. l Joel Miller

before Jackson

Summary: the moment Joel thought he might lose you

Warnings:  angst, blood, weapons, Ellie is in on it, tears, rough night for Joel, some swearing

A/N: this is before they appear in Jackson. the idea for this chapter was given by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again . thank you so much! i hope you like it, sweetie. ❤️

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"Take Ellie and try to get out of here."

You looked at him with fear but also determination in your eyes. He had expected the words that left your lips "I won't leave you, Joel."

"But you have to, if you want Ellie to be safe." You nodded "I'll find you. We'll meet outside the city. Remember that red brick building? We'll meet there."

You didn't ask any more questions, just grabbed Ellie by the arm and led her out the back door. Once again, for a moment, you turned to look at Joel.

"Go. Now."

He should have been less harsh. He should have done a lot of things, and he definitely shouldn't have led you there. The road through the city was definitely shorter, and you could find the supplies you needed for the rest of the journey. 

You were all tired, and Ellie was grumpy. She was tired of sleeping under the stars, and when you got soaked one night, she was even grumpier than Joel.

"Something warm, a piece of dry floor. That's the basics!" she said and finally Joel gave in.

These people were probably thinking the same thing. They knew someone was in the building, but they didn't know how many people were there or whether they were armed, that was to your advantage.

Joel reloaded his gun. Maybe you could get out without being noticed? But he had to distract these people, let them think you left the city a different way. His thoughts ran to you and Ellie once more, he knew you'd be fine.

The moment he entered the red brick building on the outskirts of town he knew something was wrong. It was already dark when he entered and secured the door.

"Ellie?" he called out in a muffled voice "Ellie!"

He almost had a heart attack when the girl appeared at the end of the corridor with a flashlight in her hands. Her eyes were wide, she was shaking.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly approaching her "W-What is it? Blood?"

Ellie's hands were covered in blood, some of it smeared on her cheek. She was pale as a sheet. Your name barely escaped her lips, and Joel felt as if his legs were giving out under him.

"That guy appeared out of nowhere!" the girl gasped, "She's bleeding terribly."

Joel rushed into the room after her. He knew one thing, he would never forget this sight. You were lying on the floor. Ellie had somehow managed to take off your jacket, but your shirt was soaked in blood on one side. The old towel that Ellie used as a dressing was already covered in blood.

"Fuck!" Joel hissed, falling to the floor next to you. "What happened?"

"There was a guy..." you replied quietly, you were breathing as if you were fighting for every breath, your eyelids seemed so weak. "A few streets away..."

"And you made it all the way here? In this condition?!"

"What was I supposed to do?!" Ellie groaned, sitting on her heels on the other side of you. "She didn't say anything. It wasn't until we left the city..."

Joel's hands easily removed yours, he lifted the towel and uncovered your side. The red mark from the knife ran almost from your hip to your bra. The wound was bleeding badly, although not as intensely since you moved less and pressed the towel that Ellie gave you.

"She'll be fine, right?" the girl's quiet voice focused Joel's scattered thoughts. "Hey! I'm asking you something!"

He nodded. That was all he could do, because he was afraid his lips would betray him. They would betray his fear, worries and uncertainty about you. It looked like you had lost a lot of blood. How much? He wasn't sure.

Focus! Focus!

"There's water in my backpack. Give it to me!" he ordered.

Ellie quickly rushed towards the backpack and after a moment pressed a bottle into his hand. He poured it over your side to clean it a bit.

"Joel? Joel..." you sighed.

"I know, give me a moment." he mumbled, but your hand lightly grabbed his. "My backpack... Ellie knows."

He looked at you, confused, and then at the girl. She didn't wait. She ran to your backpack lying against the wall and started looking through it, finally pulling out something that looked like a makeshift first aid kit. She threw it towards Joel.

A small bottle of alcohol, some bandages, antibiotics that had long since passed their expiration date. It looked bad, but it was all he had.

"I'd have to stitch the wound up." He said more to you than as if he was planning on actually doing it.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed, your breathing shallow. Despite everything, when he poured the alcohol on your side, you hissed loudly in pain.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry..."

"It hurts her." Ellie groaned, her voice shaking as she sat down next to Joel.

"I know, but it'll hurt more."

Ellie's small hands pressed a spool of thread and a needle into his palm. Without a word, she walked to where your head was, took your hands, and squeezed them tightly. She knew what had to be done, and so did you. She laced her small fingers with yours and nodded at Joel.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so scared.

Joel opened his eyes and lifted his head. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. He couldn't.

It was starting to dawn. Ellie was curled up next to you, her bloody fingers still tangled with yours. She had spent the whole night watching over you and it was only a few hours ago that he had finally managed to convince her to go to sleep. The night watch belonged to him.

After you had passed out while he was stitching your body, you hadn't opened your eyes yet. Joel knew that this night would haunt him for a very long time. 

Ellie's pale face, her tears running down her cheeks, your blood on his and her hands. He only hoped that he had done everything right. He couldn't lose you, not now, not ever.

Ellie stirred and rubbed her eyelids.

"She's not awake yet?"

Joel shook his head. "You should still be asleep, kiddo." he muttered.

She sat up and rubbed her face with her hand. Her eyes were puffy with tears.

"Do you think she'll wake up?" she asked.

God, she has to!

"If she doesn't wake up on her own, your talking will do the trick" he said, relieved to see the shadow of a smile on Ellie's lips. "You were brave, you know. If it wasn't for you..."

"You sewed her up like a rag doll." she said. "I wouldn't know what to do."

"You would know. You knew she had a first aid kit with her. Good job."

"Yeah, she showed it to me a while ago. She said it was just in case." Ellie stood up and stretched. "I need to find the bathroom. Will you watch her?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and quietly left the room. Joel leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. His whole body ached. Warm coffee would be something he would give a lot for.

A thought flashed through his mind - how long will you have to stay here? Is this place even safe enough for another night? What if he did something wrong?

"J-Joel..."

It was quieter than a whisper, but he still heard it. He opened his eyes and saw you looking at him, your eyelids still heavy, but you fought them.

"Hi, darling." he greeted and stood up to crouch next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Ughh...horrible..." you sighed.

His hand touched your cheek and forehead. You saw the worry written on his face combined with the sleepless night.

"You had a small fever last night. I gave you antibiotics."

"Shit..." you groaned. "You wasted it on me?"

"Best decision ever."

You wanted to smile, but the muscles in your face were strangely numb. Meanwhile, Joel lifted the jacket you were wearing and glanced at your side. The wound was still red, but it wasn't anything to worry about. The most important thing was that you weren't bleeding. And you were conscious.

"Where's Ellie?" you asked.

"She's looking for the bathroom. She sat with you all night." He looked at you with sympathy and worry. "How did you manage to get here? When I showed up, you looked terrible."

"Yeah... That guy, I wasn't expecting him. I didn't want to shoot... That would draw attention."

He nodded. Damn, he knew you were strong and resilient, but he was still full of worries about you. 

Your presence was soothing to him, and the relationship you had with Ellie... The girl would break down if something happened to you. So did he, although he didn't want to admit it. 

You, on the other hand, twitched strangely, making a movement as if you wanted to get up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joel covered you with his jacket again "You're staying like this."

"We can't stay here. These people..."

"We'll stay another night, or as long as we have to." he declared. "You won't be able to move around yet."

Footsteps in the hallway distracted you, because you clearly wanted to argue with him. Ellie's face lit up when she saw you and a moment later she was sitting next to you.

"Fuck! You scared us so much." she said. "Joel almost had a heart attack!"

The man threw her a look and shook his head. He listened to her babble as she told you in detail about the night, about everything that had happened. He smiled the moment he felt your fingers clumsily find his and squeeze them lightly.

A quiet "Thank you," that he appreciated more than anything. You were alive. Still. Soon you would move on. Slowly, but still, the three of you.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 2)

Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton

for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how

As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.

PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.

PhantomMenace: John.

PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.

PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this

PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??

PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!

PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately

PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that

God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.

PhantomMenace: 💚

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

Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.

Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.

The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.

The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.

Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.

Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.

Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.

Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.

Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.

In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.

Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.

Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.

Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.

Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.

"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.

He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.

He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."

The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.

He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."

The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."

Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.

"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.

"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.

"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"

Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."

Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."

Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.

"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."

Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.

"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.

Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!

So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"

Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.

Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.

"-atman?!"

"Oracle." He confirms.

"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"

"There's a vampire in Gotham."

[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 (𝐞𝐩𝐬. 𝟏-𝟒) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken from episodes 1 - 4  of max's  the  penguin  (2024),  created  by  lauren  lefranc.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.. )

❛ i see you've made yourself at home. ❜

❛ so this new deal you got going... maybe i can help. ❜

❛ you know what i like most about you? you are who you are. you couldn't change if you tried. ❜

❛ you got a girl? good looking guy like you... ❜

❛ can you imagine? to be remembered like that? revered? ❜

❛ you really think people’d make a float of your dumb face and march it down the street, chanting your goddamn name? ❜

❛ you messed with the wrong fucking guy on the wrong fucking night. ❜

❛ you’re gonna do everything i say. or else i’ll murder you and, uh... anyone you care about. ❜

❛ what do you think of this? it’s a little air freshener. aqua paradise. you smell it? ❜

❛ we used to go there every day in the summer. you know, we’d mix the flavors for a suicide. you ever mix the flavors? ❜

❛ i ain’t trying to get in your business, but... i need an alibi. ❜

❛ i asked for extra pickles, and they give me two? so what, a normal amount of pickles is one? makes no goddamn sense. ❜

❛ there’s a nice sunrise behind you. you should take a look. ❜

❛ i could help you with whatever it is. whatever you need, whatever it is, all right? ❜

❛ well, maybe it’d be useful, keeping you around. for now. ❜

❛ but if you step out of line just once, i swear to god, i’ll gut you like a fucking fish. do you understand? ❜

❛ all right, listen, if i don’t come out... nah, i’ll be fine. you’ll be fine. it’s gonna be fine. ❜

❛ you know, maybe you don’t like me. that’s fine. i’m an acquired taste. ❜

❛ i’ve been rehabilitated. ❜

❛ you’ve really moved up in the world, haven’t you? ❜

❛ are you nervous? i’d hate for you to feel nervous with me. ❜

❛ you know, people underestimate you, but not me. i’ve always known you were capable of more. ❜

❛ this city is meant to be yours, sweetheart. what are you gonna do to get it? ❜

❛ the world wasn’t built for guys like us. that’s why we gotta take whatever we decide is ours. ❜

❛ but i gotta know. no bullshit. can i count on you to pull through? ❜

❛ i know who you are. i know what you are. i don’t work with people whose loyalty is for sale. ❜

❛ i’m gonna run this goddamn city. and i want you in on it. ❜

❛ i'm not safe. i'm home. ❜

❛ very, very convenient that, all of a sudden, you’re on my side. ❜

❛ you are scrambling for whatever dignity you have left and you’re hoping i will save you. ❜

❛ rough night, detective? ❜

❛ i refuse to let these old fucking men push me aside again, like i’m nothing. so, i’m going to take from them now. ❜

❛ you in? ❜

❛ let's dance. ❜

❛ you act like wanting more is a bad thing, but, i mean, don’t you want a better life than this? ❜

❛ are we, uh, kinda... partners now? ❜

❛ i mean, you fucked up. huge. but you learned, right? ❜

❛ whaddaya think the new clothes are for? you’re my guy. can’t have you lookin’ like a schmuck. ❜

❛ and from now on, you want something, you ask for it. ❜

❛ how’s anyone supposed know your worth unless you tell ’em, huh? ❜

❛ man of the hour, i was just thinking about you... ❜

❛ you do anything stupid, i’ll sense it. ❜

❛ that’s why you’re here. you seem to know everybody’s business. so, now’s your time to shine. ❜

❛ you’ve got a good thing going here. i’m really happy for you. ❜

❛ i know you’re not right in the head. i mean, that’s pretty damn clear. but i’m not scared of you. ❜

❛ you think i’d come here empty-handed? come on, we both know that if i ever truly left you hanging, there'd be a bullet between my eyes. ❜

❛ i got a real opportunity for you here, but it’s kinda hard to focus with a gun pointed at my face. ❜

❛ you got fight in you. you gotta let it out. ❜

❛ you’re fun at a card game, or over drinks, i’ll give you that. but people don’t keep you around because they think you’re smart. and they sure as shit don’t trust you. ❜

❛ i wouldn’t ask you to do this if i didn’t know you could handle it. i believe in you, kid. ❜

❛ i can't tell who wants this move. me or you. ❜

❛ i want this for you. ❜

❛ what you did to me. was it worth it? did you get everything that you wanted? ❜

❛ you wanna go, what are you waiting for? fuckin’ go. ❜

❛ you coulda left whenever you wanted. but you chose to stay. how about you ask yourself why. ❜

❛ i fucked you over. that what you wanna hear? ❜

❛ i’m fuckin’ sorry for everything that’s happened to you. ❜

❛ you meant something to me. still do. ❜

❛ i don’t know where to go from here. i don’t know how to trust you. ❜

❛ you need a cigarette, take the edge off? ❜

❛ a lobotomy couldn’t take the edge off. ❜

❛ when the time comes, i want you to take my place. i want you to run this family... if that’s something that would interest you. ❜

❛ they know you're mine. they'll do as i say. ❜

❛ why would you do this now? picking away at old wounds... you know how it upsets me. ❜

❛ you still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday. ❜

❛ i don’t need your advice. i don’t care what you think. no one does. you are my driver. that is all you are. so stop talking and drive. ❜

❛ listen, i get that you’re angry, you know. but i was just doing my job, looking out for you. ❜

❛ i’m not gonna make it in a place like that. i’m gonna die in there. ❜

❛ it’s okay to be scared. i was scared at first, too, but it’s not so bad here. you get used to the noises. ❜

❛ a woman beat the shit out of me while everyone stood around and watched. so, yeah, i had an incident. ❜

❛ i don’t know how to convince you i’m sane when you’ve already made up your mind about me. ❜

❛ i told you i’m fucking innocent. ❜

❛ i’m gonna get you something to eat. if you wanna get cleaned up, there’s a towel and a change of clothes in the guest bath upstairs. ❜

❛ i trusted him... when everything in my body told me not to. i should have killed him when i had the chance. ❜

❛ you abandoned me. ❜

❛ i left because i had to. because i could. i know you didn’t have that choice, but I’m here now. ❜

❛ you don’t have to pretend with me. ❜

❛ i haven’t forgotten, you know? the way you looked at me. so curious. ❜

❛ what did it feel like? to get to watch a person unravel? and now, you’re numbing yourself as punishment. ❜

❛ they think i'm broken. i'm not broken. ❜

❛ i'm not the one who's sick. and neither are you. the world is. ❜

❛ for the first time, i have hope. ❜

❛ to new beginnings. cent’anni. ❜

[wholoveseggs]

next parrtttttt plzZzzzzzZZZZZzzz of gardener

The Gardener {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Things come to a head when you decide to confront the Mikaelsons, before your magic consumes you.

♡♡ Sorry for the slow progress on this one! I hope ya'll enjoy the ending! ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: little bit of smut, lots of violence, Klaus being Klaus, more brother fighting, Elijah down bad, lots of magical hijinks and lots of death..????...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton@wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp @sweetieseven

The building was a ruin, a pile of rubble, and the ground was covered in vines and roots, spreading out and delving deep into the ground. The street was cracked and broken, and the air was thick with the smell of death and decay.

Wolves, witches and any other enemy to the vampires were clambering over the ruins, hacking away at the wood, taking whatever they could.

Maeve was giddy, stumbling around cheering and encouraging the rabble. You watched her hack off a smaller branch and start whittling at it with a dagger, laughing and dancing around.

"Take as much as you can! Don't stop!" She shouted, a feral grin on her face.

She handed off her newly made stake to one of the wolves, who looked at it, confused.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked, his brow furrowing.

"Stab a fucking vampire!" She yelled, and then turned back to her task, snapping off another branch.

You were watching from afar, sitting on the curb, your mind still reeling. You couldn't believe it. They were all gone.

Agnes, Beatrice, Ava, Liza, the coven, all of your friends, gone. But you could still feel their magic inside you, their essence lingering. It made you sick, the way it made you feel powerful, but it also filled you with guilt.

"This is the best day of my life," Maeve said, skipping over to you, her arms laden with branches.

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes, definitely," she said, dropping her load on the ground, her eyes alight with joy, "it's not every day that you destroy a thousand year old evil and become a god."

"You're not a god," you said, shaking your head.

"Oh but I am," she said, her smile growing, "and so are you! Can't you feel it? The power, the energy, the magic, it's all ours now, the city is ours!"

She was practically vibrating with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile.

"It is pretty amazing," you admitted, looking up at the giant tree, "but I can't believe they're all gone."

Maeve's expression grew somber and she sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

"I know," she said, squeezing you close, "but it's okay. We all knew the risks, and we all did this together. They'll be watching over us, guiding us."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from your face.

"I didn't think I would make it, honestly," she said, letting out a soft laugh, "I was so sure I was gonna die, I didn't think I was strong enough, or smart enough. But I did, and I'm here, and now, we're gonna win."

You looked at her, a smile tugging at your lips, and then a werewolf jumped onto the curb, brandishing his new stake.

"I dedicate this stake to Klaus Mikaelson! The great abomination!" He bellowed, and the crowd of vengeful rabble cheered, pumping their fists and screaming. "I shall sink it into his heart and watch the life drain from his eyes!”

The group erupted into roars and cheers, and the werewolf ran off, the crowd following him, chanting and howling.

"That werewolf is too stupid to realize he's dead already," Maeve said, shaking her head.

"Then why give them the stakes?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because they need to feel useful," she said, shrugging. "And maybe there is a chance, like throwing a bunch of darts at a dart board. Who knows? Maybe one will hit the bullseye."

"Maybe," you said, staring up at the giant tree. "It's up to us though, isn't it? To finish this, to kill Klaus."

"Yep," Maeve said, smiling. "Then the rest of them… Including Elijah....," she trailed off, giving you a sideways glance.

"Yes, Maeve," you said, rolling your eyes, "I know."

"Do you?" She asked, her tone growing serious.

"Yes, and I'm fine. I don't- ....I won't let my feelings cloud my judgment," you said, holding her gaze.

"They died for this, Agnes, sweet Bea...," her eyes welled up with tears, "they gave their lives for this. I need to know, if it comes down to him or us, which will you choose?"

You hesitated, her words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You looked away, trying to avoid her stare, but she grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"Choose."

"I will choose freedom from oppression always," you said, your voice low. "Even if it means killing him."

She studied your face, searching for any hint of a lie, and then nodded, letting go of your chin.

"I know we've never exactly been close... But it's just us, you and me now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've got your back, and you've got mine. Right?"

"Right."

She smiled and stood up, stumbling a little as she dusted herself off, looking around at the wreckage and all the people grabbing branches and chunks of wood.

"We don't have long, I don't think we can hold this magic forever. Not if we want to live," she said, turning back to you. "That means we have to go now," she nodded towards the tree.

"Now? Like right now?" You asked, surprised.

"Yeah, why not?" She said, shrugging, "we're going up against the biggest, baddest, most powerful vampire ever, the element of surprise is the only advantage we have. So, let's use it."

"I just thought, I don't know, we would have more time," you said, running your fingers through your hair.

"More time for what? More time for us to lose our nerve? To think about certain suit wearing obstacles? We gotta act now, while we can," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

You sighed, knowing she was right, knowing that there was no point in thinking about anything else. You couldn't save him, you had sacrificed too much for this already, it had to be worth it.

You stood up, giving her a small nod.

"Alright, let's do this."

The city was under siege, the French Quarter on fire. Werewolves had returned to the streets, attacking vampires left and right, their stakes at the ready. Witches were casting spells, creating traps and ambushes, luring vampires into their clutches.

It was chaos, the kind that Klaus usually relished, but this was different. This wasn't fun. He was being hunted, and he could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface, the urge to destroy everything in his path.

“Niklaus!" Elijah's voice cut through the noise, and Klaus turned to see his brother rushing towards the entrance to the compound.

Marcel stumbled inside, covered in blood, a werewolf bite on his neck and a stake sticking out of his back. Elijah caught him, helping him to his feet.

"What the bloody hell is going on out there?" Klaus demanded, grabbing Marcel's shoulders and shaking him.

"Witches," Marcel said, gasping for air, the werewolf venom burning through his veins.

Elijah pulled the stake out of Marcel's back, guiding him to a sofa. Klaus watched them, his eyes narrowed.

"Witches are causing this?" He asked, his anger growing, "they're the ones responsible for the chaos in the Quarter?"

"Not just the Quarter, the whole city," Marcel said, wincing.

Klaus let out a sigh and bit down on his wrist, offering his blood to Marcel. Marcel hesitated, his eyes meeting Klaus'.

"Just take it, Marcel," Klaus said, his patience waning.

Marcel took Klaus' wrist, drinking the blood. The wound healed and the venom was neutralized, leaving Marcel weak and exhausted.

"What had made them so bold? Why now?" Klaus asked, pacing the room.

"Maybe it had something to do with this," Elijah said, his voice oddly quiet, and Klaus looked over at his brother, his gaze falling on the wooden stake.

"Is that?" He started to ask, but the words died on his lips.

"White oak," Elijah finished, holding it out to him.

Klaus stared at it, his expression completely blank, like his brain couldn't process what he was seeing.

"Impossible," he whispered, taking the stake.

"Apparently not," Elijah said, and Klaus could hear the fear in his voice.

"Where did this come from?" He asked, his hands shaking, he looked at Marcel, who was slowly getting up off the sofa.

"The wolves were the ones who attacked me," Marcel said, rubbing the spot where the stake had pierced him. "I killed a couple of them, but the rest fled. I think they are planning on attacking you,”

Klaus' eyes darkened and he stormed out of the room, the stake still in his hand. Elijah quickly chased after him, catching up to him before he exited the compound.

"Niklaus, wait," Elijah said, grabbing his brother's arm.

Klaus stopped and turned to face Elijah, his eyes filled with fury.

"They will pay for this," he growled, his grip tightening on the stake.

"There could be more out there," Elijah said, his eyes pleading, "we need to regroup, to plan, we cannot rush into this."

"You expect me to do nothing?" Klaus hissed, his anger rising. "You think I'll stand by and let my home burn? That I'll let these insolent fools threaten my family?"

"If they get to us, our sirelines go with us, you know that," Elijah said, his expression steely.

Klaus growled, his eyes flashing yellow, he hated feeling hopeless, stuck, weak.

"So what do you propose?" He spat, his words dripping with venom. "You want me to sit and wait for the axe to fall?"

"We need to stay here, let the vampires and werewolves handle each other," Elijah said, keeping his voice steady.

"It's not the wolves!" Klaus roared, pushing Elijah back, "it's the witches, they're the ones behind this."

"Niklaus," Elijah said, his voice soft, "how could they possibly-"

"I don't know!" Klaus yelled, throwing his arms in the air, his frustration and fear overwhelming him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His mind was racing, going a hundred miles an hour. He had to fix this, had to end this, he couldn't let anything happen to his family, his home.

Suddenly, it was like a light switch had flipped in his brain. His eyes widened and he turned to look at Elijah, his expression grim. He sped past him, up the stairs to the study, with Marcel and Elijah quickly following behind.

Klaus ripped the portrait off the wall and opened the safe, pulling out a small, wooden box. He held it in his hands, staring at it, his jaw clenching.

"What's that?" Marcel asked, his brow furrowing.

Klaus didn't respond, just opened it, and Elijah felt his blood run cold, his heart shatter. It was gone.

"Impossible," Elijah said, shaking his head.

Klaus threw the box across the room, the wood splintering, embedding into the wall. He was breathing heavily, his entire body was tense.

"I told you," he muttered, his hands clenched into fists. "I told you what she was... what she was capable of..."

Elijah stared at him, his heart sinking. He remembered the day that he had met you, the first time you had come to the compound. He remembered how beautiful you were, so soft and full of light. How could you possibly be capable of such a betrayal?

Klaus lunged at Elijah, his fist colliding with his jaw, and Elijah stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly, his own fists flying, striking Klaus across the face.

They brawled, punches and kicks being exchanged, and Elijah grabbed Klaus, throwing him into a table. They crashed to the floor, grappling and struggling.

"You have always been blinded by your feelings for her!" Klaus spat, his fangs bared, his face inches from Elijah's.

Marcel grabbed at him, trying to pull him off Elijah, but Klaus shrugged him off, pinning his brother to the ground.

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book! My noble brother, always willing to see the best in people, even when they're plotting against you," he snarled, his eyes flashing yellow, "how many times has it cost us, Elijah? How many times have we nearly died because of your stupid sentimentality?"

Elijah snarled, pushing Klaus back and landing a blow to his nose, knocking him to the ground. He pinned him down, his hands wrapped around Klaus' throat.

"You think I'm the fool?" Elijah growled, his grip tightening, "it was you who pushed the witches too far, you took away their hope, their freedom! You're the reason they're fighting back!"

Klaus grabbed the stake and jammed it into Elijah's neck, his eyes widening in shock. He pulled it out, and Elijah gasped, falling to the floor.

"Enough!" Marcel yelled, and he yanked the stake from Klaus' hand.

Klaus stood up, breathing heavily, staring down at his brother, his face filled with rage. Elijah coughed and sputtered, blood spilling from his mouth, the wound slowly healing.

"If we are going to survive this, we need to work together. Save the family drama for later," Marcel said, his voice hard.

Elijah stood up, wiping the blood from his face.

"He's right," he said, his voice hoarse.

"So, what do we do?" Marcel asked, glancing between the two brothers.

"We hunt them down," Klaus growled, his eyes filled with fury. "Those foul witches and their ilk."

"And then?" Elijah asked, his expression grave.

"We kill them all," Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the room grew quiet, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He looked at Elijah, his face filled with determination, "Every last one."

You made your way through the city, ducking into alleys and hiding whenever a vampire passed by. It was a bit odd to see the city so barren, the streets empty. You tried not to think about it, pushing away the memories of when they were thriving, full of vampires, witches and werewolves alike.

You didn't talk much, keeping quiet to avoid drawing attention to yourselves. But Maeve pointed to the trees and grass, the once green and vibrant plants that now lay withered and dead.

"Was that us?" she whispered. "Our magic?"

You just nodded, trying not to dwell on it. You had sacrificed a lot to get here, you couldn't lose focus now. You had to keep going, no matter what.

"We are going to die, aren't we?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Maybe, but so is everyone else," you replied, your voice equally low. "This is bigger than us, we have a chance to free everyone, to end the tyranny,"

You could feel the magic you had taken on, it was too much, twisting your insides, making you nauseous. You knew that the longer you kept it, the worse it would get. The ancestors didn't care that you were in agony, you were their vessel, a tool for their revenge.

"I've never really thought about the afterlife," Maeve said, a small smile creeping across her face. "But, I hope that it's peaceful, that my family is there waiting for me,"

"I'm sure it is," you said, your voice wavering.

"What about you? What do you hope the afterlife is like?" She asked, glancing over at you.

"I hope it's worth it," you whispered, "I hope that everything we did was worth it."

She nodded, her expression solemn. You didn't know what else to say, so you just headed towards the compound, the one place you didn't want to go.

As you grew closer, the damage done to the streets became more pronounced, the rubble thicker and heavier. You had to climb over fallen walls and dead trees, concrete stained with blood. There had been a fight, wooden stakes and branches lay strewn about the ground, but no bodies. Whatever wolves, vampires or witches had engaged them here were either dead or dragged away to be fed upon.

You tried not to think about it, clambering over the rubble, making your way through the gate, sticking to the shadows of the courtyard. It was dark, the sun hidden behind stormy gray clouds. You were glad for it, it would make sneaking around the compound easier, but a part of you wanted to see the sunshine one last time.

The bodies of a werewolf army lie strewn about the courtyard and the large pool of liquid in the middle of it. There were torn off heads, limbs, all in a pile and it was impossible to tell which person belonged to which body. There were a few witches as well, their bodies laying next to those of the wolves.

It was gruesome, the smell of blood and rot filling the air. You covered your mouth, trying not to vomit, but the sight was too much, the magic coursing through you amplifying your senses, and you dry heaved, clutching your stomach.

Before you had time to process what you were looking at, there was a strange shift in the air, and Klaus Mikaelson stood before you. He was covered in blood, his shirt torn and ragged. He was staring down at the pile of corpses, his expression blank.

"I presume it was you that caused this... massacre," he said, his voice eerily calm.

"No, pretty sure that was you," you retorted, and he smirked, a cold, hollow thing, turning to face you.

"I call it self defense. Why? Well they had these..." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and he held up a number of poorly whittled white oak stakes, "and were not afraid to use them."

He dropped the stakes, his eyes roving over you, then his gaze turned to Maeve, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"I see you brought a friend," he said, his voice mocking. "Does she care to explain what's happening here, or am I going to have to torture it out of her?"

Maeve glared at him, her eyes narrowing, and she lifted her hand, a ball of flame appearing in her palm.

"We've come to kill you, to end your reign of terror," she said, her voice hard.

"Is that so?" He replied, his eyes gleaming. "I'm impressed, little witch, it takes a great deal of strength and cunning to kill an Original vampire."

He looked over at you, his expression turning dark.

"And quite a bit of debauchery too, considering the lengths in which you went to," he hissed, his tone bitter.

"This has nothing to do with us, Klaus," you said, taking a step towards him.

"Oh no?" He snapped, his voice rising, "sleeping with Elijah wasn't a calculated choice? That was all just a means to an end?"

"Don't," you growled, your voice low.

He threw back his head and laughed, a loud, mocking sound. Then he lunged, grabbing you by the throat, lifting you off the ground.

"I should kill you," he growled, his eyes burning with rage, "I should rip your throat out and tear your body to pieces."

Maeve's hands clenched into fists, the fire growing hotter, brighter, and she let out a scream, sending the ball of flame hurling towards Klaus.

He dropped you, flying backwards, crashing into the side of the building. You landed hard, the breath knocked out of you, your body aching. Maeve rushed to your side, helping you up. She pressed a stake into your hand, and you gripped it tightly, the wood smooth against your skin.

"Come on," she said, jerking her head towards Klaus, "let's finish this."

Klaus stood up, his shirt smoldering, the skin beneath it red and blistered. His eyes flashed yellow, and he lunged, moving faster than you could follow.

Maeve ran at him, the force of her magic causing Klaus to stumble, and he let out a roar, charging towards her. They collided in a flurry of blows, their hands and feet moving impossibly fast.

Klaus grabbed Maeve, his hands wrapping around her neck, and he began to squeeze. You ran at him, leaping onto his back, plunging a stake into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, throwing Maeve to the ground, and reached behind him, grabbing you by the throat.

He tore the stake from his shoulder, tossing it aside, and slammed you against the wall, his hands crushing your windpipe.

"Tell me, love," he sneered, his eyes boring into yours, "did you enjoy it?"

You stared at him, your mouth open, struggling to breathe, the magic within you bubbling and churning.

"All the pain you have caused, all the suffering, the lives ruined," he growled, his eyes darkening, "and you had the gall, the nerve, the audacity to pretend you are righteous,"

He was breathing heavily, his jaw clenching, and his hands tightened around your neck.

"To claim that you were better than me," he hissed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, "to make Elijah believe that you loved him."

The magic inside you burst forth, exploding outward, and you sent a pulse of energy towards him, knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, rolling a few times, coming to a stop against a stone pillar.

You collapsed in the heap, coughing and gasping for air, the magic flowing through you burning, searing. You screamed, your back arching, your limbs twitching, your muscles contracting. It was too much, the pressure, the pain, and the magic began to escape, slipping from your grasp, flowing into the air.

You watched it, like a wisp of soft twinkle lights, drifting away, it gravitated towards the wood, the stakes and branches strewn about the compound, to the beams above you. It sank into them, filling them, and the wood began to glow, burning with the same white light that flowed through you.

Maeve stumbled to her feet, stake in hand, it was disintegrating, falling apart in her palm. She knew this was her last chance, she couldn't afford to wait any longer, the magic was escaping her, draining from her body and draining her life.

She snarled and launched himself at him and they rolled across the ground, grappling and fighting. She screamed and struggled, the force of her magic beating against his chest, but he was too strong, pinning her down.

You took a single step forward, and then you felt it; a sudden rush of coldness, a wave of despair, as his hand touched your arm. You turned, and he was standing there, Elijah.

He looked like he had been through hell. His clothes were tattered, his face covered in dirt and blood. But it was his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes that broke your heart. They were full of pain, a sorrow so deep, so profound, that you couldn't look away.

You stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. And then you heard a cracking sound, Maeve's scream, and Klaus' triumphant roar.

You saw her body fall, limp and lifeless, the white oak stake gone, Klaus holding the splintered remains in his hands.

The whispers grew deafening, chanting in unison, filling your mind, the voices blending together, drowning out all thought, and you were filled with rage.

You struggled in Elijah's grip, the magic swirling and coiling within you, ready to be released.

"Let me go," you hissed, your voice filled with venom.

He didn't budge, his grip tightening, but he wasn't looking at you. Klaus stood up, wiping his hands on his pants, his mouth twisted into a smug grin.

"It's over, brother," he said, his voice mocking, "kill her and end this,"

You snarled and kicked, lashing out with your magic, the air rippling. You struck him in the chest, and he fell backwards, his grip loosening, and you ripped yourself from his arms, turning to face him.

He looked like you had stabbed him in the heart, his expression crumpling. You felt dizzy, drunk almost, on the power. Everything was so vivid, so intense. Your senses were overwhelmed, your head spinning. Maeve's magic flowed through you, and you could feel her essence, her soul. The voices of your ancestors were a chorus in your head, a chorus calling for the deaths of all vampires.

Elijah moved, reaching out, trying to grab you, but you sidestepped him, dodging his attempt to restrain you. You turned towards him, the anger and pain that you had kept locked away, bubbling to the surface.

"You're all monsters," you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"We are," Elijah said, his eyes full of anguish.

You felt a surge of emotion, your vision blurring, and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"I wish I had never met you," you whispered. "Why... Why did you have to take everything from me?"

He didn't answer, just stared at you, his face pale. You could hear Klaus chuckle behind you, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Come now, love," he drawled, "that's hardly fair."

You spun around, the magic inside you thrumming, your fingers twitching.

"You have no idea what's fair!" You snapped, your voice shaking.

Klaus smirked, taking a step towards you, but Elijah blocked his path, standing in front of you.

"Move," Klaus snarled, his eyes glowing yellow.

"No," Elijah said, his voice strained.

"You can't save her, brother," Klaus said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on Elijah. "She took too much on, look around,"

The ceiling was collapsing, the walls crumbling, the foundations cracking. All of the wood and plants were rotting and dying, pulsing with the same white light that you could feel pulsing through you.

"She chose this, to die for her cause," Klaus sneered. "How noble of her."

Elijah pushed him away, his jaw clenched, and he looked at you, his expression pained. Klaus grabbed him, pulling him away, and he let out a shout, struggling against his grip.

"Just let her go," he snarled, "it will be over soon."

Elijah shook his head, his tear filled eyes now turning to rage, and he punched him, hitting Klaus so hard, he stumbled, releasing his hold. Elijah's eyes burned with anger, his fists clenched.

"No, I will not kill her," he hissed, "not now, not ever."

"You're weak," Klaus spat, wiping the blood from his mouth, "she betrayed you, she lied to you, and you can't bring yourself to end it, to do what must be done. You are a fool, a pathetic, sniveling, little fool."

Elijah charged at him, his hands grabbing Klaus by the throat, slamming him into the wall. He punched him repeatedly, his knuckles smashing into his face, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You have only ever despised those I love," Elijah snarled, his fist connecting with Klaus' face, "because you are a coward, afraid of any emotion that does not serve your own selfish desires."

Klaus laughed, spitting blood, his lips split, his nose broken.

"You will never learn," Klaus said, his voice thick with disdain.

"And you will never understand," Elijah said, his voice barely above a whisper, his fist connecting with Klaus' face once again.

You could hear the whispers, the voices, the magic in the air calling to you. Your coven was gone, they were dead, but their spirits lingered, their voices echoing in your mind. You held all their power now, their legacy, and the weight of it was crushing. You were barely holding on, with Maeve dead all the magic was yours, and it was destroying you.

Your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground, your body wracked with sobs. You were alone, all alone, and the power was too much. You couldn't hold on anymore, your grip was slipping. the pain too intense, and you let go.

Everything went white, the light blinding, and there was a horrifying crack, and the earth beneath you exploded. The ground gave way, and you fell, the air rushing past you.

You screamed, falling, falling, and the voices grew louder, the light blinding. And then everything went black.

~~~

You awoke slowly, a dull throbbing ache in the back of your head. You couldn't feel your legs, your entire body was numb.

You blinked, your vision blurred, and slowly everything around you came into focus. There was rubble everywhere, a huge pile of it. The air was filled with dust, making it hard to breathe. There was a rumbling sound, as debris began to rain down, a piece of rock became dislodged and tumbled down, smashing into a pile of bricks, shattering them.

There was a ringing in your ears, and you could hear the muffled sound of shouting, a distant siren. You tried to move, but your body was heavy, your limbs were leaden, and you were stuck under something warm and solid.

You looked up, and Elijah's face came into view. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in an unnatural way, his neck was at an odd angle, his hair caked with dust. He had you caged under him, his body covering yours, protecting you from the worst of the destruction.

"Eli?" You croaked, your voice hoarse, the sound of it muffled.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking, his gaze focusing on you. His pretty brown eyes full of heartache and despair.

"Why?" He whispered, his voice breaking.

"I had to," you said, your voice wavering.

He looked down at you, his eyes roving over you, taking in your injuries. He moved slightly, pushing up against the rubble, his immense strength allowing him to lift the heavy wooden beam that was pinning you.

You winced as the movement jarred your legs, a sharp stab of pain shooting through you. You were sure they were broken, the bones in your lower half crushed, shattered.

"You used me," he whispered, his voice trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks, "you made me care for you, made me think..."

He broke off, shaking his head, his eyes filled with anguish.

"And then you betrayed me," he continued, his voice hollow.

The voices were screaming, the magic within you burning, searing.

"I was always told vampires were evil," you pleaded, the pain in your chest unbearable. "And then, I met you, and it was like, everything I knew, everything I believed, it all changed. You made me see the world differently."

His face crumpled, and he looked away, his shoulders shaking.

"I had a mission," you said, your voice cracking, "I was to destroy you, and bring peace back to this city."

You looked at him, pleading, your eyes welling up. You felt a stake next to you, the wood felt so hot, the magic inside it vibrating, the whispers in your head growing louder, a cacophony of sound.

"I never meant to fall in love with you," you cried, the tears rolling down your face.

"Killing me, would cause the thousands I sired to die too, many of them innocent. Who are you to decide who is worthy of life or death?" He asked, his voice trembling, his gaze full of anger.

"It doesn't matter," you said, the words spilling out of you, "they're all monsters."

"Just like me," he whispered, his eyes searching yours, "just like you."

"No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You lifted the stake, pressing it against his chest, the wood burning against your skin.

"This is a mercy," you said, the tears rolling down your cheeks, "an end to the suffering, a chance for peace."

"Do it," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Kill me."

"I don't want to," you cried, the pain in your chest becoming unbearable.

"Do it," he yelled, his voice laced with anger, "End it. Put me out of my misery."

"No," you choked out, the pain overwhelming. "I don't want to, but the voices, the magic, it's too much, I can't, I can't hold on," you sobbed, the stake glowing brightly.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath tickling your face.

"I can't watch you die," he whispered, his voice soft, his face twisted with agony.

He kissed you then, a soft, gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours, and you clung to him, the stake pressed against his heart, the wood burning. You knew you didn't have it in you, to make the choice that would end him, forever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, the pain in your chest overwhelming, "for everything."

"Me too," he said, his voice filled with sorrow, he took the stake from your hand, casting it aside. You watched as it slowly disintegrated, the weapon you sacrificed everything for, turning to dust. Just like the magic you had inside you.

Elijah placed his hand on your cheek, cupping your face, his thumb brushing against your skin, his eyes meeting yours. Then he groaned, pushing hard against the debris that trapped you both, lifting the heavy wooden beam that pinned you to the ground. He pulled you free, holding your broken body close, and you felt his arms wrap around you, his touch gentle, careful.

You looked around, the devastation was worse than you thought. The entire compound was gone, the building demolished. There were fires burning everywhere, and a thick layer of dust and debris covered everything. The city was eerily silent, the sky dark, the only light coming from the fires. You were the cause of this, the destruction, the death. You couldn't take it anymore, the guilt, the shame, the pain.

You buried your face against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. He held you, his embrace warm, his touch comforting. You could feel the heat of his breath, the beat of his heart. The voices grew louder, and you were drowning in the sound, the pain was excruciating.

"I'm dying," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt, "and I'm afraid."

"Don't be," he whispered, his hand rubbing your back, his voice thick with emotion, "I'll be with you, every step of the way."

"I love you," you said, your voice trembling, the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice choked, "with all my heart.”

He tightened his grip, holding you closer, his arms wrapped around you, his chest pressed against yours.

"Please," you begged, "please, kill me."

You felt his lips on yours, the taste of blood and tears. His fingers dug into your back, and you felt the pain, the fire in your bones, your muscles, the magic tearing through you, burning, scorching. You were going to die, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"Not yet," he said, his voice breaking, and you felt the sharp pinch of teeth in your neck.

The pain was intense, like a fire, burning through you. You screamed, arching against him, and he pulled back, his eyes wide, his pupils blown, the veins beneath them protruding. He was feeding from you, draining you, killing you.

You felt the darkness creeping in, the whispers fading, the voices growing quiet. Then it was all blackness, nothingness, a void. You were floating, drifting in the darkness, and then you felt something, a tether, a rope, and it was pulling you back, calling to you. It was not the continual haunting drone of the ancestors, but one singular, familiar voice. The voice of the person you loved the most.

Epilogue

A soft sigh escaped your lips as Elijah's warm hands held you underneath him, the movements of his hips slow and controlled.

His hands roamed your body, the look of lust on his face making your heart skip a beat. You would never tire of the way he made you feel, the way he knew what he was doing. This slow, lazy dance, the intimacy of it, the gentle brush of his lips, the smooth silk sheets on your bare skin, the pleasure he made you feel. It was all overwhelming, intense, the sounds you were both making echoing in the room.

You stared up at him, the golden glow of the fireplace shining on his skin, his dark eyes staring down at you. A rare smile was on his lips, and he sighed in contentment, his thrusts becoming more forceful, the bed creaking beneath you. It didn't take long for you to fall apart, the sweet pleasure ripping through your body, Elijah following soon after.

The two of you laid there for a while, not saying anything, just enjoying the peaceful silence. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't stop the questions racing through your mind.

"You're thinking too much, my love," he whispered, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, shaking your head, trying to dispel the memories that were plaguing you.

"Talk to me," he murmured, propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. "I want to know what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours."

You closed your eyes, not sure where to begin. "I... I just miss it sometimes," you whispered, unable to meet his gaze, feeling the shame burning inside of you. "The power, the magic. It was so overwhelming, so intoxicating, and now... I feel empty without it."

"I know," he replied, his voice soft, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair. "I can't imagine what that was like, having all that power, feeling it consume you."

You nodded, the guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. You knew what he was feeling. He was angry, hurt, betrayed, and you didn't blame him. It would take a long time for him to forgive you, if he ever did. You were grateful that he was even giving you a chance, allowing you into his life, his bed. He had been so patient, so understanding, so loving, and you didn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a sore subject for you, and I'm sorry."

He sighed, shaking his head, his hand resting on your hip, pressing your legs apart. "No," he whispered, his eyes full of sorrow, his touch tender, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. "It's not a sore subject for me, not anymore," he said, his voice firm, his words ringing true. "I forgave you a long time ago."

You blinked back the tears, his words washing over you, filling you with relief, with joy, with hope. You didn't deserve his forgiveness, his love, but you would cherish it, cherish him, for the rest of your life. And now that you were immortal, that would be a very long time.

You never expected to find peace or love with Elijah Mikaelson. Of all the ways your paths had crossed, this one was by far the most unexpected. Laying here, in his arms, a vampire, his wife, was never part of your plan. You chose this, him, and he chose you, and that's all you ever needed.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hey, you.

If you're American, and you've been having a hard week egg for.. reasons -

I have something to say to the Americans.

Just remember.

They aren't immortal.

Nobility has lied for centuries. They told us they were placed on the throne by God - the rule of the king being the will of the Creator.

The French proved them wrong.

You are young. They are human. They will one day die.

And on the day they die - regardless of if hell is real or not - there will be a movement when they are laying on that death bed. They will feel their live slipping from their grasp.

And they will feel the fear.

The possiblity of eternal consequence.

They will fear what waiting for them on the other side. The one journey they cannot buy their way out of. The moment the bell tolls for thee.

And honestly, the thought brings me peace.

Trumo and Elon AREN'T demons - though it's so easy to think of them as so.

They are evil humans. And all humans die. Trump? He's 80. He's over three times my age. He's older than my grandmother. He eats McDonald's and Diet Coke like no one's business. Knock on wood I'm betting he's got ten years TOPS.

('I'll be the last president' - my ass. If you take a bad fall it's game over dude. You won't release your health records cause you're most likely due for a heart attack soon mfer. Your minions don't like your candy ass Junior enough to have him as a successor and Baron doesn't fucking care so realistically speaking whats your game plan here? 🤨 Elon's kids have too many daddy issues to take your place. You can't even use a sword. Napoleon would slay you where you fucking stand you pansy)

So if you've been struggling this week, I just wanted to remind you.

Black people won our civil rights without the support from the media, without online social networks, without the support from 90% of white people.

70 years ago, around when my grandma was born - I could not sit next a white person in school. If a white man was walking towards me on the street, I'd have to step into the gutter and let him pass. At risk of being actually killed by the whole town if not.

Nowadays in my city I could tell a white guy my age 'Fuck you!!' to your face. Middle finger and all. And they're not gonna put me in jail for it. No stranger is gonna jump in. The whole town isn't gonna care. If anything, people will just record.

That all happened in ONE generation.

So no matter what Trump does.

Remember. He's not immortal. He will die like we all do.

You're young. You'll have the rest of your life to reverse everything he's done.

That's the thing about personality cults. Once the personality is removed, the whole thing falls apart. And the personality in question is once again - an 80 year old who eats Big Macs and wears suits two sizes too large. A man who would probably get genuinely upset if you asked him to recite his 8 times tables.

If Trump dies in the next 10-20 years, before he turns 100, I'll be 35-45. a.k.a - my generation will be entering the older majority. Our generation will be the eldest and the most influencial. What then?

The Trumpettes won't have their leader for their personality cult so they'll have no one - not even their republican parents - to tell them who to think.

We'll be older, wiser. We'll teach our kids the signs. We'll tell them stories what to do, and invest pubic funds to conserve the history of our fight - to never be erased.

If you're scared this week, I understand.

But remember. We've fought harder with less - and we still won.

So keep your head up. Doom is the tool of the enemy. You keep going, you keep living, and you survive to tear down their legacy while the bastard spins in his grave.

Keep going. Keep your angry hearts and clenched fists. Hold on tight to your love and rage. And keep going.

That's what Hobie would want. That's what a Hobie is there to teach us.

Hope this helped someone, anyone, even if it was a little bit. If this helps you get through the day, or the next hour, with the smallest bit of hope - that's all I want.

Thanks for reading this far! Here's Hobie :)

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

And bonus:

Ayo I just gotta add this in here -

Word to god, and when I say this I say this with my whole chest -

I'd be DAMNED before I ever say I'm scared of Donald Trump.

First of all, I'm black and poor. There's been a white man wanting me dead since the moment I left my Mama's hoohaa and guess what, I'm still here. That mfer ain't special. Call me when the klansmen come not when done mfers with tiki torches cosplay call of duty.

Cause none of them coming to the hood..tf.. Try that shit in neighborhood with Bloods and Crips.. Y'all not the only ones with automatics and lots of money. It's just the black people with money and automatics keep shit quiet. If these racist mfers had ppl breaking in they house the way Kendrick had mfers breaking in Drake's with choppers they'd be terrified as fuuuckkk

And secondly there's 4chan fellas out there that probably legit jack off to the idea of a black queer trans person crying in fear. And those mfers can kiss my black ass and kick rocks cause I wake up every day smiling. So -

Anyway I'm done lol

I just had to get this out of my system lol. OKAY BYE FOR REAL

[k0nanharv3y]

I'm too hungry and my sleepless hours count has gotten longer, I should be resting for my day tomorrow. BUT TIM JUST WON'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD. Oh, yeah, and read the tags THE TAGS HAVE MORE INFORMATION!!!!

Robin Hood AU Part 3

Part 1 (because somehow people like this?)

Part 2 (why I'm i writing this anyway?)

///

Tim wasn't... he didn't want this.

He wanted to stop Ra's at any cost, yes, but... Gotham paid for it. It wasn't his finest hour, god, it wasn't even close to his worst hour, this was an aberration in his history, it wasn't part of the plan (if he had one) it wasn't his intention and it never had been. But he can't find the strength in himself to stop and regret that he killed innocent people.

At least Ra's would never return to Gotham for his head, all he would find would be too many poisons with no cure

It wasn't his brightest idea to start a chemical war against the League of Assassins. Nor will it be his best plan to face the Devil face to face (whom he only defeated with the power of Anime and God -and lots and lots of Joker gas-) and win when Ra's ran away with his tail between his legs because not only was he defeated by a 15-year-old boy, but that same boy digitally destroyed the League of Assassins and emptied all their accounts to send the money to a slum in Crime Alley? Damn Robin Hood.

But innocent blood was shed

Tim had devised a perfect combination of chemical weapons that would destroy the strongest mind and had made his own mask against it, any hole in your body would be a route for the gas to sneak in and destroy you from within. Tim had made his own homemade, airtight version of a semi-functional suit and if his mask had any design it was mere coincidence (Tim didn't want people to know about it, he just wanted revenge)

And Batman? Batman couldn't do anything before he was right in front of his nose. Tim had made sure to move so silently that Batman only noticed that a chemical war was going on in his city when the gas in the air was so thick it looked like smoke

But Tim wasn't a monster, he sent the antidote to all the hospitals and warned them in advance so they would be prepared... if the hospitals didn't listen to him then it was their fault, not Tim's

Batman only arrived to hear Ra's swearing about a "New Young Detective" and "Damn stupid kid" as he fled. And if he found himself stuck between following Ra's, stopping Robin Hood, or helping the civilians then that's his problem. Nightwing stayed in Gotham to help the victims and clean up the water supply because damn it, Gotham, why did it have to rain today, Red Hood took care of distributing the antidote on the streets, Orphan stayed with Batman to look for Robin Hood, Spoiler kept up his normal patrol (Because DAMN IT, GOTHAM WON'T STOP BEING GOTHAM EVEN IF THERE WAS FUCKING CHEMICAL WARFARE IN THE CITY PARK) with his eyes open for any Robin Hood sightings, Robin reluctantly went to check out the hospitals and pretended not to enjoy being able to help the nurses, and Oracle tried to keep track of all the transactions and mass destruction done to the League of Assassins

And Tim? Tim, for the first time in... his entire life, sat in his room... and cried like a tired 4-year-old. Tired of fighting, tired of taking care of himself, tired of having his whole life revolve around other adults, tired... just plain exhausted. He cried for his dead father, his dead mother, the childhood he never had, what he sacrificed, the people he killed, his future. And he held a funeral in his small apartment, where Timothy Drake, for the first time, had someone cry for him.

Part 4 for some reason???

Part 5 O_o?

Part 6, I don't know how long this'll be

Part 7.5 👻👻

[archangeldyke-all]

prologue to the next ao3 fic i'm writing! it's childhood friends to enemies (to lovers) with sevika! hope you enjoy <33

30 years ago

Sevika trudges through the streets, kicking a rock along as she goes. Being ten fucking sucks. 

At the time, Sevika always thought that six would be the worst year of her life. That was the year her mom died. It was also the year her dad started drinking. But now she’s older and wiser; finally big enough to work in the mines: and Sevika’s beginning to suspect that life just gets worse and worse until you’re lucky enough to die.

Seven was worse than six. Seven was when Sevika learned that if she was going to steal and scam to feed herself, she was also going to have to fight. Sevika got her nose broken four times when she was seven. 

Eight was when she got tall and smart enough for her dad to feel threatened by her. It was the first time her nose had ever been broken by him.

And nine was when her childhood cat died. She found poor little Ladybug in the back corner of her dad’s closet, cold and stiff, curled up on top of her mom’s favorite red poncho. 

But even in those years Sevika wasn’t constantly sore, and her feet weren’t always blistered and bleeding, and she wasn’t coughing up dust all the time. 

And now she is. For less than a hundred bucks a week. 

Still. She has found one nice thing about being ten. 

“Sevika!” You squeal as you sprint up to your best friend’s side. Sevika tries to bite back her smile. She’s pretty sure she succeeds. 

“Easy.” She grunts as you launch yourself into her arms. You’re clinging around her waist, uncaring of the fact that she’s covered in soot. When you pull away to grin up at her, your cheek is smeared in black dust. Sevika chuckles and wipes it clean for you. “Hey, Honeybun.” She greets. The nickname makes your smile impossibly wider. 

“How were the mines today?” You ask as you haul your old flour bag over your shoulder. You’re so tiny, still only seven, and the bag is half your size. Sevika sighs, easily lifting it out of your grasp and hitching it over her shoulder for you. 

“Eh. You know.” She shrugs, trying to act tough, like she wasn’t just on the verge of tears from exhaustion. “How’s your Gramps?” She asks. You shrug, digging around in the little satchel you keep slung over your side. 

“He says to say hi to you. He said if I sell all these buns I can take five dollars of the profits.” You gesture to the bag hanging off Sevika’s shoulder. “Wanna help? We can use the money we earn to get some spicy slugs from Jericho’s!” You offer. Sevika grins. She’d say yes even if you weren’t buying her food. 

“I got nothin’ better to do.” She says cooly as you pull a bundle of fabric out of your bag. You unravel the scrap, and Sevika knows what’s wrapped in it before you can even unveil it. She can smell the cinnamon. You reveal the pastry to her with a grin, and her belly growls. Sevika briefly wonders if the sound is from her hunger, or if it's from the bugs that always seem to be crawling around in her stomach when she’s with you. She snatches the treat out of your grip and tears into it, trying to distract herself from the fuzzy feeling in her chest. “Cinna-roll for my Cinna-Sev.” You sing-song. Sevika rolls her eyes, nudging you with her elbow and huffing an embarrassed laugh. 

“Fuck off.”

She follows you blindly, letting you lead her up the winding streets of the Undercity and toward the docks. You’ve got a few spots around the city you frequently visit to sell baked goods, and judging by the way sailors are grinning and waving at you, this is one of them. 

“Bread girl!” A woman hauling a net full of fish off a boat calls. You giggle and wave at her. 

This has been the best part of Sevika’s days as of late: passing out bread to strangers with one hand, snacking on treats with the other,  as you exchange and count coins and loafs with your adoring customers. 

Sevika first bumped into you three days into starting work at the mines. You came down to pass out rolls to the miners dismissed at lunch time, and a few teenagers were giving you trouble. Two of them were throwing your bag of rolls over your head in a cruel game of keep away, while the third teen was snooping through the little coin purse you’d dropped. You were pathetic, and clearly about to be robbed blind, and Sevika was tired. But… She couldn’t help herself, and she stepped in to defend you.

You both ended up getting beaten to a pulp, and you still got robbed; but she earned your friendship. 

You’ve been there to pick her up from work when she gets off every day since then. She gets teased endlessly for it. She’s ten, and you’re only seven. All the kids she works with want to know what she’s doing with a baby like you. But those kids haven’t tasted your grandpa’s treats. And they’ve never made her laugh like you do. 

Sevika watches you work with a small smile. She wonders if you know how cute you are and play it up to sell more buns, or if it’s really just you. Bugs start crawling around in her stomach again, and Sevika tears her eyes away from you, looking up at the sky instead. 

It’s rare that she ever gets to see so much sky. Down in the Undercity, the sky is sliced into thin slivers, only visible from the right angles. Up here you can’t escape it. The sun’s starting its slow descent, and the blue sky’s turning a sweet yellow. A storm’s brewing in the west, dark clouds starting to cover the very edge of the horizon. 

In the river, the dock starts to fill up with fishermen and tug boats docking for the night. The swell of sailors and seamen quickly buy up all your buns, but you’re in no rush to leave the docks, and Sevika’s never in a rush to get home. 

So, she kicks off her shoes and socks and rolls her pants up, sitting beside you at the end of the dock, both of your feet gently kicking your feet in the river below. You’re counting your earnings on your lap, and Sevika watches with a cringe as coins start to slide off your legs and toward the water below. She reaches out and catches a few. “Thanks Sev.” You giggle, reaching for the coins and putting them in your satchel. You snap your bag closed then sigh, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Sevika freezes for a second, and then she rests her head on top of yours. 

“How’s your dad?” You ask. Sevika swallows the lump in her throat. She’s never talked about him with you… or anyone, really. But you seem to know anyway. 

“Eh. Fine.” She shrugs. You kick her ankle in the water, and a tear falls down her cheek. It's quiet as both of you allow the lie to be true for a while.

“Do you wanna run away to my house? Gramps won’ mind. Y’know he loves you.” You whisper. Sevika’s heart swells, and she wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her chest, hiding her tears from you by kissing the top of your head. You’re so young. Nothing’s hurt you yet. Sometimes, Sevika scares herself thinking of all the things she’d do to keep you safe.

“I’m alright, Honeybun. You don’ gotta worry about me.” She whispers. 

Across the bay two men chat, waist deep in the water and clinking bottles of ale together as they bait their fishing hooks. You and Sevika watch the pair for a while, one broad tall man, one skinny and short. They seem to be in a deep conversation, and occasionally their laughs will carry across the river to reach the two of you. 

“They’re not gonna catch anything. Storm’s comin’ in, the fish’re all hiding.” Sevika says. 

“You’re full'a shit.” You giggle.

“‘M tellin’ Gramps you’re cursing.” Sevika threatens. You jam your elbow into her side, and Sevika cackles. “C’mon, let’s go to Jericho’s before it starts raining.” She says once she catches her breath. 

Before either of you can rise, shouts float across the water. The fishing friends have started fighting with one another, their rods forgotten as they shout, splash and tussle. “Are they… playing?” You ask.

Sevika studies the scene. An animalistic roar floats across the bay, and the big man shoves the skinny guy's head underwater. Her stomach drops and she springs to her feet, gathering your shoes and trying to tug you away as quickly as she can. “We need to get outta here.” 

“Sev.” You whimper, pointing. Sevika’s eyes catch on what’s got you scared: a growing splotch of red staining the water where skinny arms are flailing and clawing at the hulking figure holding him down.

“C’mon, Honeybun.” She grunts, trying to pull you away from the docks. The sky opens up, the first drops of the storm starting to fall.

“S-Stop!” You squeal. Sevika lets go, worried she’s hurt you, but when you fall to your knees and start screaming across the river Sevika’s heart shatters in her chest. “You’re hurting him! Y-you’re gonna k-kill him!” Your screams are ignored, carried away by a strong gust of wind before they can reach the other side of the bay. Sevika’s tugs on your arm cease, she collapses to her knees beside you.

“Honey, let’s go home.” She begs, her voice wobbling as her hands try to guide your face away from the scene ahead of you. Your eyes keep darting between hers and the fight where the skinny man has stopped struggling completely. The surface of the river is still beside the small echoing rings of raindrops falling. 

“S-S-Sevika--” You cry as you lean forward, burying your face against her chest. A crack of lightning flashes in the sky. Sevika puts her hands under your armpits and hauls you up, keeping you tucked against her as she drags the two of you as far away from the docks as she can.

Right before she ducks around the corner, a clap of thunder booms, and a skinny arm bearing a knife breaches the water.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

[safination]

If You Know, You Know.

Big Four Edition (❤️💙💚💛/ ❤️🦅🏹🐯) + One Extra

|Masterlist| Characters: Adam, Vox, Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie. x Reader (Separate) TLDR: Dates around the area with them A/N: Welcome to my dumpster of a mind, where I try to place our beloved Hazbin characters into four to five categories. Will I be explaining any of them? Probably not. Listen, if you know, then you already know. Also, I can't believe I'm falling into this stage as a creator in a fandom. You can take me out of my roots, but you cannot take my roots out of me. Fuck me, honestly. This is the most self-indulgent shit, ever. If anyone irl found out who I am, I would die. Like literally die. Please don't come for me. Yes, this is 100% playing into stereotypes, but it's all in good fun. Nothing I write here says anything about you as a person or a large body of people. Plss lang. Sige an po This is all in good fun, I promise T_T

Adam — 🏹

Come on, this is an easy one. This thing is practically writing himself. Adam would 100% be here. Hatid-Sundo si baby boy by kuya Drivers niya. I can imagine Adam doing such an obnoxious laugh and then going, "Ay, gagi!" ( plus points for the elitism and the momol in hidden spots. I've seen yourFreedomWall)

Adam would walk you around the buildings, especially if you can't go inside. Why is it so hard to sneak inside? He would constantly take you to that one really good burrito and taco place (If you know it, then you know.), and would go to the Power Mac to buy stuff for you because why not.

Vox — ❤️

Hear me out a little. This is Vox we're talking about. So, despite being the type who belongs in the 🦅, at the end of the day, this is still Vox. This holds true considering that . . . uh . . . debate (?) surrounding those who should be accepted into ❤️. While Vox could go with the 🦅, he would snatch up a spot in ❤️. (But like, this is isn't his fault. It really is the fault of the system in place, and we're all proud of Vox because it is a big honor to be here.) Like Adam, Vox would be Hatid-Sundo, and would hang out in UP Town most of the time.

Dates would Vox would include going to Gino's or Nono's or cracking open the books at Tyler's. It would take forever to get anywhere with him because he refuses to walk anywhere, and would either always be driven there or would book a Grab. Plus point for traffic, but you get to bond and talk with him during the traffic.

Alastor — 🏹

He doesn't like being an 🏹 despite majority of the people being really chill and cool. But it's most likely because he bumps into Adam. He's practically crawling up the wall. He sees the life of those in 🏹 and gets really confused at how they act. He rants to Rosie (who would be in the all girl's club) about it all the time. Unlike Adam, Alastor will hop off at Vito Cruz.

Dates around the bay area and MOA, honestly. He would make you listen to his radio broadcast that I do know they have. All four have their own organization. Alastor would take you to Star City, and would insist on walking there because it's walking distance daw, and tricycles are low key a scam there.

(Again, please, don't come for me. 🏹's are mostly chill but come on. You can't deny it. I've seen what the streets look like. I've seen the Power Mac. The aircons.True 🏹 would find it funny.)

Lucifer — ❤️

I don't need to explain why Lucifer would be here. Let's be fr. I will fight anyone who says otherwise.

But unlike Vox, Lucifer would take long walks with you around the oval and the Sunken Garden. Fuck it, I'm even bold enough to say that he would join the run club there if you were into that type of thing. You would eat fishballs and kikiam. There would be no kwek-kwek or balut tho. When you get tired, you and Lucifer would sit by the fountain with the Statue™. Lucifer would take jeepnys with you to get around. If you don't go there, majority of date time would be spent trying to find you a restroom to use.

Charlie — 🐯

I debated placing Charlier either with the maroons or the tigers, but ultimately decided that it would be nice for Charlie to be with the tigers. I don't know how to explain it. It just makes sense to me. Charlie would always have an umbrella with her because rain or shine or terrible rain, she would go.

Charlie will take you to paskuhan at the soccer field to see all the lights and the concert. The food dates around that area would go hard. Like seriously, damn. Charlie would constantly take you to Lover's Lane, and explain all the history of the buildings.

Vaggie — 💙💛/ All Girls

This post is supposed to feature, "the big four" but I don't care. I can do what I want. It's fitting that Vaggie would be somewhere where it's all girl. (That recently started accepting boys too. So that's nice.)

Dates with Vaggie would involve CBTL, but in Regis Center instead of UP Town. Sometimes, you would cross over to ❤️to find something to eat. Tricycle rides to get around, and Siomai would be such a constant in your dates.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

stuck on the past | part 3

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

you never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

warnings: angst (ish), adult language, drinking

length: 1.6k

masterlist

"Who are you texting?" Bradley looked up from his phone to see Nat sitting down across from him. He'd had a bad day, that was for sure. With training for this mission and almost fighting Hangman earlier, he'd come straight to the cafeteria thinking food might help. Instead, he found himself staring at your texts, wondering if he should message to make sure you still wanted to meet, or if you'd turn him down and his day would hit rock bottom.

He looked up as Nat sat on the bench across from him, "No-one."

Nat rolled her eyes, leaning on the table in between them, "Come on, spill it. I need some drama around here that isn't to do with either Hangman or this mission."

Bradley poked at his food, "You're gonna tell me its a bad idea."

Nat smirked, "Can't be worse than other things you've done,"

Bradley chuckled and put his fork down, "I'm going out with my ex-girlfriend tonight. I think."

"Going out with an ex huh?" Nat shrugged, "Not the worst idea. We've all ran back to an ex once or twice."

"It's not like that." He sighed, "We were together a long time, while I was at Top Gun, haven't seen her in a few years now. Back then I really thought... I don't know. She was the only girl I saw myself making a life with, you know? Settling down."

"So, what happened? She dump you?"

"No." Bradley ran a hand through his hair, "I fucked it up. I ran.. but she didn't try to make me stay. Maybe she saw it coming, I don't know. I just knew I'd end up spending so much time away from her, I couldn't.. She deserved more."

"So... what? You want her back?"

Bradley shrugged, "I don't know. We're both in the same city, first time in years..."

Nat grinned, "It's like the universe is giving you a second chance, right?"

"You think I'm crazy?" Bradley chuckled.

"No." Nat stood, ready to leave, "But you want my advice? Don't fuck it up again."

-

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. He would be here any minute, and this was the third outfit you'd tried on. You shook your head, you're acting stupid. This wasn't even a date.. was it? It was just dinner. You could do dinner. Glancing at the mirror again, you started to panic. The dress looked good, but was it too dressy? Shit.

Your phone buzzed from your bed. He's here. The dress would have to do now.

You slipped on your shoes and headed downstairs to the front of your building, where Bradley was waiting, leaning against the side of his bronco. When he saw you coming, he grinned, "You look amazing."

Maybe the dress wasn't such a bad idea.

"Thanks." You looked Bradley up and down. He was in jeans and one of his classic Hawaiian shirts, his aviators hanging on the edge of his nose. "You look good too."

He opened the passenger door of the bronco for you and you climbed in. He reached over you to buckle your seat belt and you felt your stomach flip as you looked up at him. He smiled slightly and shut the door. You couldn't give in. You had to be strong.

Focus on the article.

He climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the engine, pulling away from your street, "You still love Italian food?"

You chuckled, "Are you kidding? I will always be down for pasta. Where are we going?"

Bradley smirked, "You'll see."

After a little while, he was pulling into a parking spot right outside the old Italian restaurant on the corner of the street. You almost couldn't believe it, the memories overwhelming you slightly. This had been your go-to for dates with Bradley back in the day. You looked out of your window and back to Bradley as he parked, opening and closing your mouth, unable to figure out what to say.

He turned off the engine, suddenly looking a little sheepish, "I know it's cheesy taking you here, if you wanna go somewhere else-"

"No." you interjected, "I love it here."

His shoulders relaxed and he began to smile, "Remember that time you were sick so I ordered like, five different meals from here and brought them to your place?."

You giggled, you guys had so much left over pasta that day, it practically fed you for the next week. "I remember." You said, "I also remember you trying to pour me a glass of wine and instead spilling it all down my front."

Bradley began to laugh, "That was so embarrassing! What was that, like, our second date too?"

You started laughing too and Bradley watched you, struggling to hold back his own laughter. You were so magnetic, your laugh so real and genuine, he'd missed it more than he thought.

"Yeah." you giggled, "You know, I never got the stain out of that dress, had to throw it away."

Bradley smiled wide as both of your laughter subsided, "Shame. You looked beautiful that night."

You cheeks burned as you both got out of the car and you felt yourself smiling harder than you had in a while.

Focus on the article.

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked inside. It was a small restaurant, with a few seats by the front window and some further towards the back. The host showed you to your seat, right by the large front window. You'd sat here with Bradley before and you felt yourself wonder if he had requested this table especially. He ordered a bottle of wine for you both to share. If it were a first date, you would have been giddy with infatuation.

But it wasn't a first date, not really.

Once the waitress had poured you each a glass and left you to look at the menu, you decided to make a move. "How's the mission going?" You tried to sound as casual as you could.

Bradley gazed up at you from the menu, "Haven't spoken to Maverick, almost got in a fight with Hangman."

You frowned, putting the menu down, "You got in a fight? Are you okay?"

He chuckled, "Yeah sweetheart, I'm fine."

"So Hangman's still an ass?"

"Oh yeah. You remember him huh?"

You nodded, "I remember how much you used to bitch about him at Top Gun. Seems like he hasn't changed."

"Nope." Bradley looked back at the menu and smirked, "Wanna share their mega pasta? Think we can finish it all this time?"

You chuckled, reliving the memory. The restaurant was known for doing massive portions of any pasta you choose, meant for 4 people to share. Last time you and Bradley had barely made a dent in it.

"Sure." you smiled, leaning across the table, "As long as it's spaghetti bolognaise."

-

When you'd both finished your food, Bradley eating a lot more than he did the last time but still not managing to finish the whole plate, he paid the bill, ignoring your protests. The two of you decided to walk along the beach after that and you felt sparks as your hand brushed his every now and then.

Focus on the article.

"So, uh," you cleared your throat, keeping your eyes trained on the sand beneath your feet, "What's the deal with this mission? Is it dangerous?"

Bradley chuckled, "Why? You worried about me, sweetheart?"

You rolled your eyes, "Bradley."

He shrugged, "All missions are dangerous to some degree." He stopped walking, and you followed his lead, "I had a really good time with you tonight."

You smiled, "I had a good time with you too."

"I was thinking, you never answered my question the other day." You frowned as he continued, "Did you forgive me?"

You let out a puff of air and glanced down at the sand, "I did. After a while."

"Why didn't you ask me to stay?"

You looked up at him, his eyes were glistening in the moonlight, never leaving yours, he looked vulnerable. You shrugged, "You'd been distant for a while. I didn't want to beg you to stay with me and I thought if I did, it might make you run further away."

Bradley sighed, "I regretted it. Leaving you. I always wanted you to know that."

You looked down to the sand, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat. "Everything happens for a reason, right?" You chuckled bitterly.

It had been such a long time since you'd really thought about Bradley and everything that had happened between you. This trip down memory lane suddenly had you feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

Bradley thought back to his conversation with Nat earlier in the day, "I was young and stupid. I never meant to hurt you like I did."

"You're not all to blame. I knew you'd been distant but I never said anything. Maybe if I did, we could have talked about it. Things might not have ended the way they did." You replied, shivering a little as the wind picked up.

Bradley immediately took his Hawaiian shirt off and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaving him in a white undershirt. He pulled you slightly closer to him and you thought your heart might explode. "I don't want to rush things," He said carefully, "but I'd really love to get to know you again. If you'll let me."

You looked up at him. It was on the tip of your tongue to mention the task your boss had given you, to tell Bradley the truth. But looking into his eyes in the dark of the night, his shirt wrapped around you and his fingers gently rubbing circles over your shoulders, you couldn't muster up the courage.

The only thing you could say was, "Yeah. I'd like that."

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 16 all chapters

~AUTHOR'S WARNINGS: N$FW, SEXUAL CONTENT, COPIOUS SWEARING, TOXIC POSESSIVENESS , IF SOMEONE TREATS YOU LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE RUN RUN RUN BC IT WILL NOT TURN OUT WELL U CANT FIX THEM~

-Aware that John Wick knows this city much better than you, you stick to the crowds. You manage to find your way to the Peggy Guggenheim collection, and you hang out there for hours, looking through the art works, but really only half seeing what is in front of you.

You are devastated.

You’ve had controlling boyfriends before, and it was not fun. They seem exciting at first, until the person you were before is eaten alive by their tantrums and their ridiculous expectations as they try to fit you into a box of their own making.

You can’t believe John turned out that way.

Or maybe you can. Maybe you have a fucking type, and you should have seen this coming.

You stay almost until closing, then grab a bite to eat before daring to wander the streets. You find a little walled in park, a courtyard filled with lush greenery and a tinkling fountain. By some miracle, there is only one other couple on a bench at the far end. You practically have the place to yourself, and you sit down on a wrought iron bench with a sigh and eat your sandwich.

You pull out your sketchbook afterwards to pass the time. Your doodling hand wanders, and perhaps its no surprise when you draw John Wick from memory, his proud lips and haunted eyes. There are tears running down your cheeks as you do so. When it gets too much, even though you’re in public, you hang your head and weep into your hands.

Darkness falls, and you know you should be getting back. The bench has long ceased to be comfortable, and yet it’s like you have grown into it, unable to move.

Even with your head down, when someone sits silently down beside you, you just know it’s John.

You do not look at him, and thankfully he does not try to touch you.

“It’s getting late, y/n. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Yes it is,” he insists, sounding almost tired about it. You hate it that your demeanor softens towards him, just a little.

“You broke my heart, Mr. Wick.”

“I was afraid I might.” He is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “Would you let me make it up to you?” 

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.” 

“No?”

“No. I think you have a mean streak.” 

He had tried to warn you, you realize, in his way.

God, are you really such a fool?

“Doesn't everyone?” 

You make a sound between your teeth, and he nods like you have said something profound. 

“I'm not a nice man, y/n. But I would be good to you.”

“Like last night? I didn't like that.”

The corner of his mouth curves in a wicked smirk, and your heart skips a beat in your chest, damn him. Was the contrition all an act?

“Yes you did.”

“Not the last part.”

“Hmm. I tried to warn you.”

In the vaguest terms possible, maybe.

“My fanny.”

He raises an eyebrow to that, and you’re not sure why that little gesture wounds you like a knife to the heart all over again. Perhaps because he is beautiful, and even though you know he’s dangerous for you, you still want him so very much.  

You start to cry again, and try to get up from the bench. You need to get away from him, because you can’t think straight when he’s near.

“Y/n, wait.” He catches your wrist, and when you don’t really fight him, he pulls you down into his lap, and goddammit if this isn’t what you’d wanted all along. You feel small in his arms, cradled against his long torso and sheltered in the bend of his neck, even if in your hindbrain you know you are not actually safe at all. He strokes your hair until you quiet, and he kisses your temple like you are something precious.

How can this man be so sweet, just to turn on you?

“Why did you leave me, like that?”

You just do not understand. You could have had a lovely, fulfilling, mind-blowing if not vanilla night together. He’d laid all the groundwork like a master orchestrator, and you would have let him fuck you senseless. Fuck, you wouldn’t have even minded the tying up part, if he just hadn’t humiliated you.

“Because…” His lips ghost along the line of your jaw, and you fight not to squirm as his large hand slides up your thigh, his fingertips feather light on your skin. “Only good girls get to cum,” he says low in your ear, and you hate how it makes you ache between your legs, to hear him talk to you that way.

Outwardly, you do your best to keep your cool.

“And touching your hair made me a bad girl?”

“No.”

“Disobeying you did.”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“Maybe.” He actually seems a little amused by you, which is not the reaction you were expecting. “I like to be in control. But you make me feel...unbalanced.”

“Me?” You sound incredulous. The thought that you could affect this powerful man in such a way seems absurd.

“Yes, you, kitten.”

The urge to demand he not call you that desiccates on your tongue. 

“So...what? You feel the need to take revenge for that?” 

“Maybe. I thought you knew the game we were playing, when you batted those big eyes up at me. Mr Wick, Sir, aren’t I a good girl?” His fingers dig into your thigh with the memory, and you can feel his growing erection beneath you. “But you’re just an innocent, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You’re used to boys just eating out of the palm of your hand. But I am a man, with a man’s appetites, and a man’s desires.”

He was a little more than that, you reckoned.

“You want to control me.”

“That’s part of it.”

“Why?”

He smirks. “Maybe I had a rough childhood.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“I want to take care of you.” He kisses your cheek again, and it is gentle and sweet and everything you had wanted from Mr. Wick, before this all went sideways. “I want you to be mine.”

You are not proud of the way those words unleash a fluttering swarm of butterflies in your belly, your breath quickening in your chest. You are proud when you manage to answer, “I don’t need taking care of.”

He just snorts lightly at that, as if it’s not even worth arguing over. “Come back to the hotel room with me. I promise I’ll finish what I started. With interest.” His hand slowly slides up your thigh, just beneath the skirt of your sundress, and you think you might die. You should not want this man, after what he did to you.

The ache between your legs suggests otherwise.

You give yourself some points, when you shake your head.

“No. I’m going back to my hostel.”

The shift in his demeanor gives you whiplash, a thunderhead of a frown pulling his handsome features. “Need to get back to your little friend Javi?” The jealousy in his tone hot as a brand. “Did he try to kiss you again?”

Your heart drops to your feet.

“How did you know he tried to kiss me?” you ask, your voice so small.

That was in Rome, after all.

What should have been obvious before comes crashing in, and you realize what a little fool you’ve been. That feeling that someone’s been watching you, and John’s so convenient and coincidental appearance outside the alley…

“Holy shit. You’ve been following me.”

“I’ve been protecting you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have no idea what the world is really like, sweetheart. It’s a dangerous place.”

You frown at this.

“So…you think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself then.”

“I think I found you wandering around here like a lost little lamb. There are monsters here who would have gobbled a sweet little treat like you up in one bite.”

The fact that he sees you that way is more alarming than the thought of some unnamed threat in the shadows.

For some reason it makes you think of the men in the van back home—and how that van was found empty and on fire.

“How do you know about the monsters, John?”

“I just know.”

“You said you weren’t a cop. Were you FBI?”

He glares at you, which you take as a no.

“Interpol?”

You are met with silence, and you nod, mostly to yourself.

“You know about the monsters because you are one.” You think about those fierce looking Italian men with their scars and their bespoke suits. His previous words echo in your memory. Sono retirato.

“Were you in the mob?”

“Not…specifically.”

Then you remember he’d said he was from Belarus.

“Bratva, then.”

You should be terrified as you work all this out, trapped in the circle of this man’s arms, but you feel strangely numb about it all.

“My clever girl.” He sounds almost sad about it.

“Not clever enough,” you sigh.

You are not sure who is more surprised, you or him, when you burst to your feet. You actually manage to slip out of his grasp, though you only make it three steps before he captures your wrist again with a grip like an iron manacle. He gives you a dark look, annoyed that you would even try to play this game with him.

You remember what you learned in martial arts class a lifetime ago, pointing your thumb down towards the weak point of his grip and trying to jerk free. It’s worked before, with grabby men.

Not with John Wick, though.

“Stop.” Again, there’s that steely tone. The alpha voice one uses to reprimand a naughty dog. It only makes you angrier, and you struggle.

He pulls you hard against him, and you bite his hand. He doesn’t let you go, just adjusts his grip. “I didn’t want to do it this way,” he snarls low in your ear. “But you are so fucking stubborn.”

“Thank you.” You try to headbutt him behind you, but he ducks into the bend of your shoulder. You feel his chest trembling against your back, and only belatedly do you realize he is laughing at you.

“Enjoying this?”

“A little.”

“There’s no fucking way you can get me out of here without someone seeing. Let me go.”

He just sighs into your hair, like you’ve said something extremely naïve.

The arrival of newcomers into the park catches both of your attention. You lift your head, ready to ask for help, when you recognize the besuited tough guys from before.

Well, fuck.

“You've got some balls, showing your face around here, John Wick. Gianna d’Antonio’s son sends his greetings.”

“This isn’t a good time,” he snarls in return.

“Sorry, are you too busy fighting with your little girlfriend?”

He actually releases you then, pushing you to stand behind him. They are blocking the exit, so for now, you comply.

“You know how this will go,” John says, assuming a ready stance, his feet spread. He almost sounds regretful about it. “Do yourselves a favor, and leave.”

“Can’t do it, John,” says the one in the lead.

“For fuck’s sake,” curses John under his breath. The lead Italian makes a move, and John bursts into action. He is like a tornado of carnage upon them, throwing punches and breaking arms, cutting tendons and stabbing throats.

You are absolutely frozen as you watch all this unfold before you.

That is, until one of the thugs throws a knife at John, and you watch it bury in his chest. This is the thing that breaks your spell, and you run towards the fray with a scream, though who the fuck knows what you intend to do.

However, like he wasn’t just stabbed in the heart, John takes another attacker’s gun, pistol whipping him with it before shooting the knife thrower, then the last one standing. It cannot have been more than minute, before all of them are dead at his feet. He leans on his bent knees for a moment, catching his breath.

“John?” You hardly recognize your own voice as you rush to him, certain he’s taken a lethal blow and somehow fought through it with the surge of adrenaline. However, when you peel back his suit jacket you find no blood. He lets you look him over with frantic hands, maybe enjoying the fact that you don’t wish him dead, before pulling the still protruding knife from the breast of his jacket.

When he produces the little leather journal you’d gifted him from his inside pocket, now gravely marred with a puncture through the cover, you understand.

“Holy fuck.”

“You saved my life,” he says with an odd little smile down at you, as though all this is normal and what you just saw is totally ok.

Utterly horrified, you run.

“Y/n, wait!”

You throw yourself into the dark winding streets, taking any turn you can, trying to stay out of sight. Your feet fly beneath you; even in your shitty strappy sandals, it’s the fastest you’ve ever run.

It’s not fast enough.

When strong arms close around you, lifting you from the ground, you try to scream. A big hand clamps over your mouth, and you find yourself pressed hard into a stone wall. “Please, calm down,” he pants in your ear, out of breath from killing four people then running you down.

Your answer of, “Are you fucking kidding me?” is nothing but muffled syllables.  

“Goddammit,” he sighs behind you, rifling in his pocket for something as he pins you with his body. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

Your pitiful plea of “Let me go,” is cut off by an evil-smelling cloth shoved into your nose.

[jiminiecrickets]

HONEY WILD & MANNA-DEW. JJK / M!READER

summary. werewolves are dirty, savage, brutal beasts, jungkook thinks. after nursing a particularly pathetic one back to full health and realising just how attractive he is... well, vampires have never been known to evade what they want.

wc. 3.8k

tags. smut | vampire!jk, werewolf!reader, dom bottom!jk, sub top!reader, reader is generally described as "strong", jk calls r. mutt/dog/pup/puppy (slight degradation), praise (r. receiving), slight dumbification (? r.)

notes. written for and with nick :) you know who you are. thank you for everything !! <33

"fancy seeing you here, darling."

"i'm not your darling," jungkook replies immediately, his expression souring. he throws back his glass of whiskey, setting the empty glass down on the dark counter. he spins around on his stool, leaning his elbows back against the counter as he stares coolly up at you, his eyes hard with annoyance. "excuse me, please. i think it's time to go home."

when he shifts, a shock runs through you, and it's automatic when you cage him in, arms shielding him from the outside world. your face is inches away from his, drawn into a frown. "you told me to come here. really gonna leave me alone without buyin' me a drink? that seems like the nice thing to do."

"i did tell you," he says airily, his gaze raking over your figure. the tight shirt you've donned under a jacket emphasises the raw strength werewolves are known for. "i've just changed my mind. you look better when the lights are off."

he smirks, eyes glittering coldly up at you, and he pushes your arm out of the way to stand. he's stunning in an all-black ensemble, his buttoned shirt with its rolled sleeves held together by a single brave button over his belt. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his perfectly-pressed trousers and cocks his head, gaze unwavering as your jaw ticks. "come, puppy. you'll walk me home."

as he turns on his heel, weaving with supernatural ease through the thick crowds like a ghost, you shut your eyes tightly, dragging a hand down your face with a groan.

fuck. you should head the opposite way; every instinct in you is screaming it.

he hums softly as you join his side, strolling down the neon-lit city streets. he'd never stopped walking – he knows the hold he has on you. "good dog. if only you listened so well all the time."

 you step in front of him. he glances up expectantly, placing his hand on his hip. "yes, mutt? what is it?"

"come on, darling. you can drop the façade. you aren't fooling anyone – everyone can tell you like this – like us." a smirk tugs at your lips. "say, when we get to your house... how far in would you like to go in? living room, kitchen? maybe even just the foyer?"

"quiet," he hisses. "this means nothing! we are nothing! you're a rabid dog who knows nothing except fucking and fighting!"

"really? you seemed to quite like how rabid i was last night."

he scowls, his glare deepening. his eyes flash, for the briefest moment, a dark, swirling, razing red. he leans in. "you owe your life to me, mutt. you're in no position to be mouthing off at me." he reaches up, seizing your jaw, and in a quarter of a second you find yourself pinned against a brick wall, the wind knocked out of your lungs. he presses his body flush against yours – you can feel the uncanny rise and fall of his chest, the plane of his stomach, the sturdy thighs against yours.

"what, pup? don't want to talk now?" he tilts his head, shifting his thigh between yours almost unnoticeably. you certainly do, and he smirks when your breath hitches. he leans in, baring his fangs and nipping at your neck. he whispers into your skin, "be a good boy, darling. you don't have your pack here to look good for – just look good for me. can you do that?"

your throat bobs and he tracks the motion with his sharp eyes. he waits patiently, fingers digging tighter into your skin, and you wince, inclining your head such a tiny degree that anyone lesser would miss it entirely.

jungkook hums and pulls away, releasing you. you loose a soft, shuddering breath, rubbing your jaw where his nails dug crescents into your skin. heat bubbles low in your stomach.

he smiles, sharp and fanged, and turns away. he beckons over his shoulder with a short whistle. "heel, mutt. seems like we still need to do a lot of training – better start right away."

—

"come."

it's so fucking humiliating. your entire face is aflame as you shuffle forward, your hands clenched at your sides, trembling slightly with the pain of your nails digging into your palms. your cock stands at attention, dark and heavy, and jungkook hums, taking it into his hand. your eyes squeeze tight in a futile attempt to ignore the way he twists his wrist so expertly – and he does it all with a demure smile, knees crossed neatly as he perches at the end of the bed.

the bed. big enough to fit both of you comfortably. a dangerous sort of hope blooms in your chest. maybe he'll finally let you touch him.

"that's my good boy," he coos, stroking you to a quick beat as he watches your every move. no twitch or flinch goes unnoticed. you're trying so hard, and lust warms his chest where his heart should beat. "let's try this again. sit."

you kneel at his feet, your head bowed. your hands close into fists on top of your bare thighs as he kisses the top of your head, stroking the place where your ears would be, had tonight been a full moon. it wasn't – not for one more day. you found yourself growing antsy, staring at open green parks and forested areas with more longing than usual.

you shudder as he digs his fingers into your scalp, massaging deeply. you swallow a moan, but it comes out half-choked as a white shudder zings down your spine. you barely suppress a whimper when he strokes your hair, petting you as if he loved you. you can feel your thoughts struggle – you make a valiant effort, concentrating on forming clear and logical sentences in your head.

and then he scratches you behind the ear. everything melts. you whine softly, pushing into his hand as you grip his legs. as soon as his hand halts, your brain catches up, and you yank away, defaulting to a proper sit.

he sighs, and the sound makes your heart leap in distress. "puppy..."

"no," you blurt out, an embarrassing shake to your voice. "no, please, i'll be good – i will! don't start again, please don't start again..."

he smells so good. like sweet, sharp wildberries. you like wildberries.

"very well," he breathes. "off."

you reach for his shirt, unbuttoning it with shaky hands. he watches you carefully and you swallow as you lock eyes with him, pushing the cloth over the lines of his shoulders. you tuck it out of his belt and sit back on your heels, folding the garment neatly into a square and setting it aside. you gaze expectantly up at him.

"good pup," he whispers, before rising to his feet. you will yourself to keep your eyes on his and not on the cute bulge five inches from your face. "off."

you suck in a deep breath as you unbuckle his belt deftly. you've done this enough times by now to do it in one motion. gently, you drag the cold black zipper down, hovering your hands over his skin as you tug his trousers down his long legs. the black cloth falls. he's not wearing any underwear. your mouth feels dry.

"you're doing so well. bed," he murmurs, stepping back until the backs of his knees touch the foot of the mattress. you crawl over him, hovering steadily as you stare down at him with rapture and painful anticipation. your cock hangs heavy between your thighs, right between his legs, but he ignores it, propping himself up on an elbow. the other hand trails between his thighs.

"ah, fuck..." he whispers as he slides a finger into his already-loved ass, soon adding a second. he begins to finger himself, soft breaths and gasps falling from those perfect rosy lips. he notices the darkening hunger in your eyes. "stay," he orders firmly, his voice breathy but not unsteady. "stay."

you can't breathe. you've tried this thrice before and all three times you failed to get further than this. it wasn't fair. he kept changing the order of his commands.

his widens his legs, hooking his ankles around the backs of your knees. his back arches as he moans, lashes fluttering shut as his expression goes lax with pleasure.

the lube makes things wet and filthy. your arms shake, crumbling under the pressure of the sight of him touching himself. nothing you do keeps the addicting sound of his moans out of your head.

"fu-uck," he drawls, inserting a third finger. his whole body shudders, his thighs pressed firmly against the sides of yours. he opens his eyes, gazing up at you with eyes of cut rubies, flashing in the semi-darkness. both of you are night-dwellers, creatures of the dark and cold night. you can see every pulse and twist in excruciating detail.

jungkook moans your name in a breath, his fingers sliding easily against his walls. nothing fills him up as well as you do, but he'd rather die than admit it to you. he shifts in his fancy bedsheets – oh, how deliciously wrong it feels to taint them like this – and wraps his slender fingers around his leaking cock, stroking himself slowly in time with his quicker fingers.

you watch, paralysed. your cock throbs at the sight of his pretty ass clenching around his fingers, and your hips rock involuntarily. it leaks precum embarrassingly steadily, pooling on a spot on his bedsheets.

jungkook smirks, moans soft and airy like pants for air. "stay," he says warningly when you begin to fidget, restless as you admire the curves and planes of his body. his thighs tighten around yours, keeping you steady. your fingers flex.

you can practically smell his lust. his cock throbs in his palm, wet and slick from his prior games. a spurt of precum dribbles down his shaft and he swiftly sweeps it up, smearing it along his length with a greedy moan.

fists clenching in the sheets, you close your eyes stiffly, thinking of anything but him. anything except him and his pretty smirks and lithe body and tight little—

"open your eyes," he commands, and they fly open. "want to touch?"

"yes," you rasp, your throat bobbing harshly. "yes, oh, fuck – yes, i do..."

"mm, well, you can't," he teases. "hah – you look so fucking pathetic, did you know that? so big and strong, and yet reduced to near tears because of someone like me. you must be ashamed of yourself, mutt."

your hips jerk at the title. a tiny keen escapes your lips. jungkook laughs, his hands quickening as his voice grows softer, airier. "ooh, that was almost a restart right there. oh, darling, your pretty cock's all swollen and needy – you look the best like this, trembling for me as if you're a young pup all over again."

all you can do is whine, your cock throbbing hotly with need. fuck, you can feel it all the way up your spine – the need to be inside of him, the need to show him how good you are, the need to prove that you're his. all and entirely his.

"it's okay, puppy. you're doing so well," jungkook breathes, watching with satisfaction as a droplet of sweat rolls down your heaving chest. your expression is starved and dark, brows furrowed with an almost beastly intensity.

you're just so cute. he can't help but want to shower you in praise. he shouldn't – you're just an unruly mutt, uncontrollable and savage when the full moon comes around. he's leagues above you on the food chain.

he shouldn't even be entertaining you like this – not when your kind are known for their quick-to-love natures. if he goes a step too far, you'll be all over him, all the time. all over his black clothes and antique vases. wolves are notoriously hard to shake off once they've developed a liking for someone.

he slides his fingers out of himself with a soft moan, reaching for your dripping cock. you flinch when he slides his palm over the tip, breathing growing shaky.

"i see why they call you monsters," he whispers with a smirk. he tugs his lower lip between his teeth, a single white fang bright white against the dark pink of his lips. "you want to claim me with this, mm?"

you nearly buckle under the fog filling your skull, his touch cold and burning. he hums, relaxing in the comfortable weight of your heat, radiating from your skin as if there's a star in the place of a soul. fucking a vampire in the filthiest ways could never begin to challenge how good it feels to simply be near you, engulfed in the blazing heat of your embrace.

him, with his icy skin and fanged sneers... you, with your cocky smirks and frequent, flirty touches. it's a match made in hell and escaping it seems awfully counterintuitive.

"please," you whine, bucking into his fist stiffly. "want... w-want you – baby, please—"

"i'm not your baby," jungkook reminds you with a sharp flick of his wrist. his thumb runs along the pulsing veins he knows are most sensitive. "i'm not your darling, not your baby. i never can and never will be. do you understand, mutt?"

you nod feebly, grunting as he squeezes the base of your cock in warning. "i un-understand..."

"better." he guides the head of your cock to his ass and your breath hitches as your tip rubs against his wet hole, sending shocks of heat up your nerves. "go slowly. i want to feel all of you."

his face pinches as you thrust in shallowly, the inches sinking in with ease. your slick cock glides against his soft walls, pulsing tightly against them. he gasps as you nudge that spot inside him, swollen and tender with his playing. "fuck, puppy, right there!"

your cock twitches at the breathy keen of his moans. you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, gently thrusting in until he's taken all of you. your balls press against his ass and he shudders, ass clenching like a vice around you.

you can't help it. you whimper his name, thrusting faster, and he grunts in surprise. his eyes fly open.

"f-fuck—! did i tell you to go faster?" he demands. "dumb mutt! do you want to do this all again?"

"no," you groan, your hips stilling. you shift over him, powerful thighs tense and trembling beneath his. "n-no..."

he grabs your jaw and tilts your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. arousal burns low in his belly at the sight of complete and utter want dominating your expression: lips parted, throat bobbing constantly, eyes glazed and dark. your tongue darts out and runs over your lower lip, leaving a pretty sheen in its wake.

"good," he says eventually, and shifts his hand. it goes from clawing at your jaw to cupping your cheek, thumb swiping over your lips. you tilt your head and take his thumb between your lips, sucking gently as you stare up at him. those pretty eyes of yours are hazy and shimmery, as if you're on the verge of tears.

holy hell. jungkook releases a slow, steadying breath. having a man like you in the palm of his hand isn't doing anything for his superiority complex – you're really something else.

"move," he commands, his glare piercing you like a bullet through jelly. "what are you waiting for?"

you drop your head, shaking it with a gasp as he clenches around you. "i – i can't..."

"you can't?" he repeats, scoffing. "what's wrong with you, mutt? i give you an opportunity to please me, but you can't?"

a soft, embarrassed whine leaves your throat. your fingers itch to touch him – to hold him, to caress him, to worship him. all that pale, graceful, flawless skin, and not a single mark of your love. sure, it'll vanish in minutes, but you can fool yourself into thinking that it'll remain for weeks under his prim and proper black clothes.

"i can't," you whimper. "i'll... 'm gonna come..."

a short silence passes between you. then: he barks a laugh, sharp and derisive. "really? you're that excited from being told what to do? oh, my poor puppy... you're so adorable. i just wanna sink my teeth into you," he coos, his arm snaking around your shoulders. the other hand slithers over your ribs, down your side, across your back. he squeezes your ass, pulling you deep into him. he grins as you throb inside of him, cock leaking profusely. "go on, then. touch me, pup."

in an instant, your hands are on him, learning him in ways so devoted it surges affection in the hollow of his chest. they run down his stomach and thighs, then back up again, cupping his chest around his upper ribs. you grip him like a toy, gently bouncing him on your twitching cock, and he moans, high and breathy, tugging you closer into the crook of his neck.

he really does smell sweet. you can't tell if it's his cologne or his shampoo, or if he just smells like that all of the time, but it's heavy, it's heady, and you can feel yourself getting drunk off of his scent. you tug him down onto your cock, grinding into his ass, and he grunts, grip tightening on your shoulders.

"you fill me up so well," he moans, wrapping his thighs around your waist as you fuck into him. "fuck, a-ah – you're such a good boy for me, huh? such an eager boy, so – mnh! – so obedient for me... make me come first and you'll be rewarded, okay? i-i'll reward you so well, fuck, my good boy—"

he squeaks as your hips quicken, slamming into him desperately. he cries out in pleasure, nails digging into the bulk of your shoulders as you smother him with your body, your face buried in his neck as he moans and cries. the wet smack of your cock against his ass each time you bury yourself hilt-deep inside of him is dangerously obscene, white-hot and buzzing his nerves.

"what—! what are you—" he can't bring himself to chastise you. your thick tip punches past his swollen prostate on each thrust and he mewls, slanting his mouth against yours hotly. he moans as you overpower him, your tongue diving into his mouth as his fingers tangle in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. his fangs nick your lip until blood and you groan, long and low and greedy.

he widens his shaky legs, his heels digging into the small of your back as he yanks you hard into him. you groan, deep and pleased, and slide an arm under his spine. your hips rock hungrily against his ass until the bedframe shakes.

"sorry, 'm sorry," you mumble, over and over again, warm breaths puffing against jungkook's collarbone. your head spins. the faraway guilt lays heavy over your mind like a blanket and the pleasure fires threads of heat through your whole body, aching and greedy. arousal pulses low in your belly. "'m so sorry, f-feels too good, you feel so good—"

"y-you stupid mutt!" he cries, his leaking cock bouncing on his belly. he slaps your side weakly, knuckling the raised trio of scars that cross your chest and stomach. you grab his wrists and pin them above his head, palms flat against the soft, pale insides of his wrists. you're dizzy with it, the way he sucks you in and refuses to let go. "s-slow down, nngh, i-i'm—!"

he seizes up, sides tightening as his cock spurts. his ass clenches and swallows you whole, his staccato cries and moans burning permanently into your brain. with one last thrust, you empty yourself inside him with a drawled whine, pulling his body flush to yours. he's so cold – it soothes your sweat-slick skin and you rock yourself against him, mind numb to everything but the white-hot pleasure concentrating in a tangled mess at the base of your cock, swollen and hot and dragging forcefully against his vice-like hole. it stretches for you, pink and hungry.

jungkook groans breathlessly, the mess on his stomach dripping down his sides. it soils his bedsheets. he tilts his head towards yours, his breath cold against the shell of your ear. you shudder, still filling him up, and he admires the way your muscle flexes under your skin with each panting breath.

eventually, he leans back against his pillows, his muscles aching pleasurably. his thighs loosen around your hips and you slowly pull out until just the tip, feeling cum drip out of him, and lazily push back in, fucking your cum deep into his ass. he moans, holding you chest-to-chest.

"wh... what was that?" he croaks, his voice strained from the volume of his cries. "fuck, puppy, you were doing so well..."

"n-no! i was good!" you bury yourself in his neck, breathing in his scent to calm your thudding heart. "you came first, i did what you told me to do! i was good, i promise."

"i told you to be gentle," he groans, slapping your chest. "bad dog."

"you take that back," you whine. "'m not bad!"

"no."

"take it back," you demand. he arches an eyebrow. you wilt. "please..."

"fine," he relents, "but only if you do something for me."

you perk up, eyes bright with interest. hell... how you can be so energetic after such a thorough fuck, he has no idea. "yes?"

he pushes lightly on your hips, pulling your cock out, and rolls over onto his stomach. he props his cheek on the backs of his hands, gazing up at you through heavy-lidded eyes over his perfect shoulder.

he smirks, wiggling his hips. "fuck me like this, mutt. you can be as rough as you like, but there's one rule."

"a rule?" your stare is trapped on his ass and the way his hole leaks your cum. it scratches a deep, animal itch inside you.

"mhm." he arches his back slightly and grins at the soft gasp you let out. "you can't touch me."

you glance up, wide-eyed. it's criminal how innocent you look. "w-what?"

"you heard me, puppy. no touching. if you can make me come without touching me, and without losing it yourself... well, i can think of a few fun things you can choose from."

"yes," you agree instantly, eyes pinned on the way his ass presses against your cock. you place it between his ass and he rocks his hips, grinding against it as he pins it to your stomach. "fucking hell, yes."

"good." his eyes glitter, somewhere between malice and mischief. he grins playfully and traces his fangs with the tip of his tongue, tasting your blood. he hums as you eagerly push back in, groaning at the slick feeling of his soft insides. "no need to rush, love. you don't want to fill yourself up with the entrées, do you? we'll be here all night long..."

[annaphoenix1994]

Cartel Protection

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

I clutched my M4 in my left hand as Soap and I exited the plane to our assigned destination – Las Almas, Mexico. Never once have I had a good memory in Mexico. In fact, I hated it. Hated everything about it, and I let one horrible memory ruin the experience for me. 2006 was the worst year of my life, going into 2007 with traumatic post-stress and severe anger problems. Manual Roba. Fuck, that name made my chest ache and phantom pain spread across my lower ribcage.

Failed brainwashing and months of torture is all I'm going to say about it.

Likely that it would never happen again considering I killed the man myself, I forced myself to think of my assignment ahead to keep my anxiety at bay. For once, I focused on Soap's social butterfly behavior, already irritated that he began making friends before we went out on a mission. "Alejandro!" He smiled at him, extending his hand out for the man to shake.

"Sergeant MacTavish." Alejandro replied, shaking his hand firmly, and I was relieved that he didn't try to shake my hand because I was in no mood to make friends, nor was I in the mood to talk. I was an observer, not a talker.

"Call me Soap."

Then, Alejandro's interest turned to me, looking me up and down as if I was a potential threat because of my face covering, and if that's what it took to keep my identity hidden, then so be it. I was here for one task: to find this terrorist, not make friends or take part in small talk. "Lieutenant, Laswell says they call you Ghost."

"Actually, I think he prefers to be called—"

"That'll do!" I barked at Soap, my irritation turning to full on anger when he said that. I didn't know what he was going to say, but he should've known better, but here he was pushing my buttons like he always did.

Why couldn't the old man send Garrick with me?

Alejandro breathed a laugh at the sudden awkwardness, "Welcome to the city of souls."

Well, isn't that fitting?

"I've never been to Mexico." Soap commented as we followed Alejandro towards a fleet of vehicles.

"This isn't México, this is Las Almas."

Same bloody difference.

"Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringing hardware. They'll need room." I informed him.

"My base is your base."

"Good. Now, where's Hassan?"

"Cartel safe house ten klicks from here. Get in."

I huffed when I tried to take a deep breath through my mask, setting my M4 between my knees as I continued to eye my surroundings. I couldn't trust anybody, especially in a country that I despised the most due to my past, I couldn't help the morbid thought of being put through the same thing again rising into my consciousness. Except this time, I was far more prepared to protect myself and Soap if I needed to. Even if the bloke did get on my nerves 99.9% of the time, he was still a partner on my team, and he was on my watch. If he couldn't fight back, then I'd fight for him. "This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra." Alejandro introduced him, the grip on the steering wheel tightening when he saw my appearance through the rear-view mirror.

"Tengo miedo de los fantasmas. (I'm afraid of ghosts.)" He mumbled.

I know what you said, bastard. I wanted to retort back so bad, but I wasn't going to let my anger and hateful attitude take the better of me this time. I watched Alejandro smirk at Rudolfo before looking back at us, "You know Spanish?"

"...No." Soap replied. Again, Alejandro never once looked at me for an answer, except I felt like he had caught on to my behavior as to only talk to me when he needed to, not when he wanted to.

"You will."

We left the base in a three-car convoy, a short drive taking us into the small and cramped town of Las Almas. It would've been a lovely place if blood didn't literally liter the streets. Gore and vandalism were a primary appearance so far, clearly taking away what I was sure was a peaceful town at some point. It looked like it could've been a place for seniors to retire, but now, it looked like a destination hot spot for drug lords, cartels, gangs, and criminals from all over.

Soap was looking out through his window, watching a truck pass by that was going the opposite direction, a group of armed men sitting in the back going about their day. "White truck – four armed in the back." He mumbled to me, but I didn't move as I didn't sense any hostility from the truck that passed by. For some odd reason, it felt like seeing armed cartel driving around was normal, not taboo.

"Hey, tranquilo, easy. That's normal here," Alejandro advised, and Soap lowered his weapon. "Guns on the street is a jurisdiction of the police."

"Where are the police?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. As much as I didn't want to talk, I felt like I needed to make Alejandro talk in order to get a sense of his character if I was going to work alongside him.

"Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are a few here to uphold the law and many of those who resist corruption... disappear."

"What about the military?"

"Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the Narcos."

"Why not you?"

Alejandro shrugged, looking over at Rudolfo, "We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros – cowboys. We love this place, and we will die fighting for it."

I sighed through my nose as I looked to my left to the open area of the town, seeing a bunch of children and their mother at what looked like a food stand, except what was supposed to a normal picture turned dark when I saw a man with a skull printed balaclava clutching a machine gun in his hands as if he was standing guard.

Soap chuckled, "Kids, guns, and balloons, that's a new one."

I didn't think it was quite funny, and Soap could see that on my face as I stared at him blankly. I was definitely not in the mood for jokes, either.

"Narcos use generosity to win over the people."

"Even the children?" Soap questioned.

"Especially the children." Rudolfo answered.

Well, that's fucked up.

The car stopped, and I immediately grew anxious. Why would we stop on a littered street of people where the majority had weapons? We're sitting ducks at this point, and I realized with a quick glance towards the front of us that there were pedestrians crossing the road. I looked to my right, seeing – and smelling – the two bodies covered by white sheets in the narrow alley. "What's on those sheets?" Soap asked.

"Norcomantas..." Rudolfo mumbled.

Speak English for the lad, would you?

"Cartel cloths. Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings, marking territory... Our streets are laced with death."

Yeah, I see that.

"Who's Sin Nombre?" I questioned.

"El Sin Nombre,"

Same fucking difference.

"The nameless. The leader of the Las Almas Cartel."

"Where can we find him?"

"You can't. Nobody knows who he is, but he is everywhere, and this is a challenge, but Los Vaqueros like challenges."

"With your mask, you will fit in well here, Ghost."

Hope your joke was funny to you, just wait until you hear mine.

I was satisfied when I watched Rudolfo's stupid smirk fall from his face before I could even say anything due to Alejandro stopping him. "Tranquilo, Rudolfo. Hey, checkpoint, it's the Army. Turn right, we'll go around."

"Why?"

"Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, he is everywhere. The cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river according to our eyes on the inside."

"Who is that?"

"Case Officer Dutton. She will be helping us find Hassan and take him down. She's doing reconnaissance at the perimeter of the village. We get there, partner up with her, and get out with our target."

"American? Never heard that last name before." Soap guessed.

"Aye. Sent by Laswell. We've worked with her before. She's Laswell's second in command."

"I think I've talked to her before, then. I remember that last name now. Called me about the missile we found in Al Mazrah." Soap rambled.

"Probably. If she can't find a hit on Hassan, then we're out of luck. When the F.B.I needs help finding someone, Dutton is who Laswell sends."

Soap chuckled before nudging my elbow, and I knew exactly by the look on his face that he was excited about the fact of working alongside a woman. "Badass, eh?"

I shared the same glance of curiosity, but I could care less about working with a woman or not. Although I didn't agree that women needed to work in a man's world, if she could do it, then all the power to her.

»»-------¤-------««

Armed and ready, I was second to exit the car before we regrouped with Alejandro, who was directing his team. "Líderes de equipo, formen un círculo a mi alrededor. Armas calientes, Vaqueros. (Team leaders, circle up around me. Weapons hot, Vaqueros.)" He directed.

"Where are they holding Hassan?" Soap questioned, standing beside me with his M4 ready.

"Stand by," Alejandro held up his finger. 

I watched Alejandro reply with a subtle smirk. "Love that woman. White two-story building, back of town. Our partner is on the roof of the second largest building. Do not fire up top if you see movement."

"What does she even look like?" Soap asked, and again, I knew that he wasn't asking to prevent a fatal shot, but because he was always a horn-dog when it came to working with a woman. Before earning the callsign Soap, I addressed him as Barracks Bunny for the longest time. The lad got around when I first met him, and I wouldn't be surprised if he still did. Regardless, he always tried if he liked what he saw. I couldn't lie and say I wasn't curious myself as I had never worked alongside a woman before on the battlefield, and the soft part of me liked the sound of her voice, but I forced myself to keep my thoughts strictly tactical as I had a job to do.

"You'll know her when you see her. Let's move. Switch to channel seven."

We moved to the gate that she had said she gained entry, confirming it was clear before we pushed in, Soap and Alejandro taking point as we swept the first quarter of the area before making our way to another gate, Soap throwing a frag over the gate after he confirmed with Alejandro that he heard multiple footsteps on the other side. 

I heard her warn us, and the hateful part of me wanted to reply saying that I knew what I was doing, but I again refused to be a hateful prick when it came to addressing a woman. My mum raised me to always talk to a woman with decency and respect, regardless of their line of work. Even if this lass was to curse at me and slap me, I'd never raise my hand. Maybe say a couple of hateful comments, but never raise my hand.

She'd roll in her grave if I were to disrespect a woman.

I took a moment to wonder what this woman looked like. She seemed relentless already, which caught my attention. Perhaps it was because I haven't been touched by a woman in years because of my job, well, not in a serious relationship type of way. I had blown off steam with hookups occasionally when back home, but I made it clear that it was only just that and nothing serious. Her naturally soothing voice didn't help my wondering thoughts, either.

Get your fucking head right, Simon!

"Window! Window!" Soap shouted, he and I aiming our weapons to take out the hiding cartel members in the small shack.

We made our way to a claustrophobic alleyway between two houses, Soap and I taking out more cartel members that had managed to sneak up on the roof. We shot two of them, but we failed to see the third that was hidden behind a chimney. Before I could even get into cover and fire my shot, the man fell from the roof and down onto the ground in front of me, a large hole through his neck.

I looked up, seeing her laying down on the roof, a proud smirk on her face before she nodded at me, quickly getting up to keep on her path.

She saved my life, and I finally had a glimpse of her.

And by what I could see, she was far too gorgeous for this type of occupation, and I'd never have a chance.

Soap was going to lose his bloody mind when he finally got to see her, seeing what he could do to snag her for himself, but a part of me knew that she'd be a hard one to impress, which was something Soap severely lacked. The lad was impatient when it came to impressing a woman, wanting to move too fast into a new relationship. When he realized this, he just turned to hookups.

"Push forward! Let's clear this house, then get to Hassan!"

"Cartel will move him fast since they know we're here." I grumbled.

"Then we move faster," Alejandro replied, using the stock of his rifle to bust open the door. "Going in."

Soap and I followed him in, our M4's ready to fire as we approached a narrow hallway. "Watch the door on the right." I whispered to Soap in front of me, watching him throw in a flashbang before shooting the man hiding inside.

"Good shots, Hermano." Alejandro praised.

We cleared the rest of the house, making our way upstairs to clear the master bedroom, the only sign of Hassan being his flag hanging on the wall in front of the desk. 

"Quds Force, that's his flag." I pointed towards the Iranian flag on the wall, looking through the papers on the desk while we took a few seconds to ensure our weapons were loaded while the smoke was deploying outside.

"So, he was here."

"Colonel's intel was good, but he got away." I sighed.

"Her intel is always good," Alejandro chuckled. "Just bad timing."

She replied, unaware that her compliment made Soap blush due to the lack of compliments from a woman in a while.

It didn't go unnoticed as I grew jealous fairly easily in general, but I assumed it was always a man's nature to grow jealous of a compliment that wasn't given to them, but to someone else other than them.

I took cover before looking out the window, watching her climb down the back of the building she was on to run through an alley that opened towards the woods, a sniper rifle in her hand. 

We watched her get close to the group, a sly smirk on her face as she picked up a large rock before throwing it towards thick brush in the woods in the opposite direction, alerting the group of soldiers into thinking that the sound came from their enemy, giving her enough time to deploy the explosive. Smart woman.

We made haste in falling back as advised, especially when we learned that the closest band of enemy soldiers deployed gas into the house we took cover in. 

Kiera... That's her name. A beautiful name to match a beautiful face. Fuck, Simon! Get your bloody head right! I was eager to get a closer look at her, but I had to push that thought aside to prevent myself from getting distracted. Let's face it, I was already distracted, and all this woman was doing was her job.

We retreated downwards into heavy trees. Soap turned to look behind him when he heard footsteps approaching from behind, his gaze locking onto her when she ran between us and slowed down to match Alejandro's stride, Soap shooting me a curious gaze. Fuck, she's short. She comes up to my sternum. How can someone so small be talked highly as dangerous? Perhaps I'll find out.

"There's a bridge at the river. Extraction will be there," Alejandro informed us before looking at her. "Still in one piece? Glad to see it!"

"Yeah, me too," She scoffed. "Haven't been here for a full three days and I've been in more fights than I've slept."

"Trouble seems to always find you."

"You're tellin' me!"

"Contact! RPG!" I shouted, the familiar whistle of the weapon coming from the top of the hill. The RPG hit in front of us, a huge wall of dirt and smoke rising from its target. As we moved to take cover, an enemy darted out from behind the boulder Kiera was heading for, aiming his weapon at her, and I immediately risked my own safety to return the favor by saving her life.

But she beat me to it.

That's right, this lass grabbed the tip of the enemy's rifle with rapid speed before he could pull the trigger, using her foot to kick him between the legs to give her time to jerk the weapon from his grasp, turning it around to aim at him before she killed him with his own weapon and took his magazines for herself as it was the same weapon she had. Fucking hell, I think I'm aroused.

Goddammit, Simon! Get your head right and get to cover! You're no better than Soap right now! 

"Army on the ridgeline!" Soap shouted, he and I aiming up top to eliminate them to buy us more time. Only a dozen soldiers showed up this time, giving our team time to make quick work of them before retreating towards the river.

"We're going to have to jump here!" Alejandro shouted, stopping at the edge of a six-foot gap separating us from the other side to safety and borrowed time.

"Can we even make that?" Kiera asked.

"Do or die, Ditch."

"I hate when you tell me that." She huffed.

"Wait, did he just call you a bitch?" Soap questioned. 

"No, Ditch is my callsign because it's frowned upon to say "bitch" over the comm, and it's fitting because I am a bitch. Echo 3-1 is just easier to remember." 

"It's an inside joke," Alejandro laughed, "Use those little legs, frog. You can make it."

"Only one way to find out," She shrugged. "I'm not going first, though."

"I'll go first, scaredy-cat." He teased before making the leap, and it looked rather easy. Kiera's jaw dropped briefly before turning back to look at us, "Well, if I fall, it was nice to meet you."

Not a chance you're going to fall, love, I thought. Suddenly, I was appreciative of my concealed identity when the eye contact she made with me made my chest burn.

I could see her nervousness as she slung her rifle to sit across her back, and I was able to realize that it wasn't the distance that scared her, but the fall.

My breath hitched when I watched her jump, laughing as she slid down the slope before Alejandro stopped her, laughing with her before he teased her again, "Look at you, jumping like a frog! Wish you could've seen the look on your face!"

"No, I don't."

Soap and I made our way across, halting at the hum of an incoming helo. "Incoming heli..."

"Get into a firing position. We'll take them by surprise."

"Which way to the bridge?"

"Straight ahead. Past the helo," Alejandro answered, ducking down behind a rock as more fire erupted from the cliffside. "Weapons free!"

"Fuck, they're coming in like roaches!" Kiera shouted, taking cover next to me while Soap was with Alejandro.

"Top of the hill and down the cliff is the bridge! Let's move! Watch your backs – could have shooters positioned." He warned after we neutralized our enemy.

"Ah, fuck," She sighed, looking down at the cliffside. "You always have me facing my fears every time I'm with you, Alejandro."

"Don't even think about it, just do it," He chuckled, jumping down to the rock below. "You're really going to hate me after seeing what we have to cross."

Even I was nervous to cross this narrow ledge that led us to another cliff to take cover on, the drop being a two-hundred-foot first class ticket to the rapids below – a sure fatality.

She huffed, following his lead and ignoring the sharp pain in her knees she made obvious by the groan that followed when she landed. She waited on Soap and I to jump down before beginning her trek across the narrow ledge, pressing her back against the rock wall before being startled by an enemy sniper. The bullet hit closer to me than her, but she crossed with a quick pace before taking cover behind a rock, setting her rifle on top before adjusting her scope quickly, sighing before she squeezed the trigger, taking out the sniper and again preventing either Soap or me from losing our lives. "Sniper down!"

"Bloody good shot, love." I complimented her, waiting for Soap to cross before we moved forward, the short ledge ending to a literal drop into the water below. "You led us to a dead end, mate!"

"We jump from here. Don't lose your weapons!"

Yeah, she was definitely going to hate this.

Everyone was afraid of something, and it didn't take me long to realize that her fear was falling, perhaps even heights. I couldn't blame her, though, because the thought of falling into a body of water without knowing what laid beneath was terrifying. "Your turn, Sergeant." I said to Soap, making him go first to ensure that I was keeping him safe by providing cover fire, and the jealous part of me sending him before me to keep him from coaxing her into jumping. "Your turn, love."

She huffed a deep breath, gasping when she peered her head over the edge. I could feel her anxiousness, but we were running out of time. "I'll be right behind you. Cross your ankles and keep your body straight. Won't hurt as bad."

"That's comforting."

"Beats getting shot and falling," I shrugged. "Don't think about it. Just do it. Could've been over with by now." The wind blew her scent on me, and aside from the sweat, I could smell the sweet scent of her body wash, and it drove me insane. I stood behind her before I turned to follow the sound of upcoming footsteps, seeing the shadow of an enemy soldier approaching. Fuck, I had to make her jump now.

I didn't hesitate as I grabbed her hand, "Don't let go!" I shouted, leaping from the edge and dragging her along with me, hearing the whisp of a bullet fly past my ear as we fell. She gasped in fear before we hit the water, and as much as the impact stung, I refused to let go of her hand until we broke the surface. I could hear her release a breath under the water, a groan of pain following as I pulled her to the surface. "You alright? Think I heard something crack."

"Probably my fucking leg!" She groaned. "That's one way of making someone conquer their fears."

I shook my head, huffing out a laugh before I pulled her in front of me, using my body as a shield before I removed my pistol, taking two shots towards the cliffside before I watched the enemy fall to his death.

"Everyone alive?"

"Breathing." Kiera grumbled, taking cover behind a rock.

"Looks like we have some time before more reinforcements come in. There's a bridge up ahead. Let the river carry us until we need cover. It'll get shallow when we get closer to the bridge." Alejandro explained.

We stayed close to the rocks that lined the shore, keeping our weapons ready. I was sure that Kiera's adrenaline kept her from focusing on the pain of her leg by how she struggled to swim, so I made sure to fall back to keep my pace up with her as she was the most vulnerable out of the four of us. We saw vehicles lining the bridge up ahead, and I was quick to realize that those vehicles weren't with us...

"Fuck! It's the Army! We'll have to hold here and get extraction!" Alejandro shouted, taking cover behind another rock once we reached shallow water.

"I'm aiming for the fuel tanks of the trucks!" Kiera shouted, setting her rifle on the top of the rock, taking two shots before one of the vehicles exploded, killing four soldiers that were surrounding it.

"Commander Graves. Shadow Company. They're with us," I answered, thankful to have him covering us. 

"Let's roll." Soap groaned, wiping his hand through his mohawk, ridding it of water.

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹Sixth Drink: Living in champagne and sparkles is a dream come true for anyone. But not with him, a mess in his head, won't you fix it for him? 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Snowchild

wc: 567

genre & warnings: angst, fluff, comfort, rich!chenle, fiancé!reader, cursing, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

"Are you having fun here? Alone?" you ask the man who is sitting on a kid's swing, taking the empty spot beside him and staring straight ahead.

"Not really." he answers, laughing weakly while he absentmindedly kicks a pebble on the ground.

"Then," you crane your neck to look at your beloved, "would you mind sharing with me what's in your pretty little head?"

He grins, this time a genuine one, "I'm sorry to break it out to you but my head is not little. I will accept the pretty part though."

He smiles when he hears you laugh at his joke before breaking out a sigh, gazing down at the dirt and contemplating whether to spill his problems to you or not.

He could always play it off. Tell you that he's tired because of work, but how much more can he take until he explodes?

"Lele," you reach out and hold his hand in yours, engulfing his cold ones with your warmth, "it's just me. You can be honest with me."

You're right, he did choose you as his confidant in life. There really is no point in hiding things from you.

Chenle intertwined his fingers with yours, his usual smiley expression is now devoid of any emotion.. well, one emotion— indifference.

Not towards you, but towards the people who are supposed to be his pillar when life gets tough.

"They are so shitty." he says and you wait for him to continue, "I always did whatever they wanted me to do, and when I ask them for something, they can't even do it."

He sighs, closing his eyes in resentment to calm him down.

Throughout his existence, the extravagant life and business-minded attitude have been drilled into him. He was taught to think critically, that wealth and success come first over anything else.

But he is tired from all of those, and he wants to escape.

That is why he asked them for a small favor of giving him a break, but they can't because it will hinder the plans for the company.

Fuck all that.

"What did you ask them?" you inquired, gazing at his slumped figure.

"Just a few days off." he murmurs and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. You couldn't fully fathom how simple his request is yet they aren't able to give him that.

You were silent for a few seconds before you stood up, walking in front of him and crouching down. Your hands are now fully engulfing his, and the shiny engagement ring on your finger gleams under the dim street lamp light.

"Let's try again. I will come with you." you declared, beaming at him when he gave you a confused look.

"Y/N, it's okay. I w-"

"No, no." you shook your head. You are not going to sit down and watch your fiancé slowly rot in hell (his workplace), "We will fight for that vacation of yours together."

Chenle had a lot of good food from the Michelin star chefs and restaurants, but he never really felt the kind of full that he's experiencing now.

"Thank you, Y/N." he chuckles when you childishly stick your tongue out, acting like an adorable fool to make him laugh.

As the snow begins to fall in the middle of the city, Chenle was oddly warm, and he knows that you are the reason for it.

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