#Jade x Eleven

[aguijonletal]

inazuma eleven go x soul eater

el traje de kid le va como anillo al dedo a victor me estoy meando

[purplepersonwombatartisan]

<3

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

I know I have a series on my ao3 account called "my tiny ass fandom fest" for small fandoms but I feel like I should have another one titled "absolute fucking rarepairs" because I have some ships for fandoms that over 30k fics but I'm writing a pairing so small they have below fifty fics (some all the way to BELOW TEN bc I'm the only one writing them).

...all of which is to say I don't know how my Riley/Ivan/Chase fic got so popular in the Dino Charge fandom because up until a few months ago I was the ONLY ONE writing for them.

[laiqualaurelote]

chapter thirteen - fear no more the lightning flash

 Ted stops. “Ready?”  “I would be, if I knew what I was ready for.” “All right,” says Ted. “Let’s go, Tesco.” And then he begins to sing. “Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown, I set out to get you with a fine-tooth comb – ” “What,” says Trent, “the fuck.”

The Station Eleven post-apocalyptic theatre AU in which American comedy actor Ted Lasso, in the wake of a worldwide pandemic, winds up leading a Shakespearean theatre troupe through the ruins of England (no knowledge of Station Eleven necessary to read).

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + masterlist

summary:

The Bloodline is a notorious crime family known all across the underground world. A family that’s been at the top of the food chain for generations. Currently led by the ruthless, stoic Roman Reigns, their success has never been better. But as Roman moves up the age ladder, his chief advisors are pushing him to set aside the one night stands in favor of settling down to ensure the continuation of the bloodline.

Enter: Solana Miller. Scarred both literally and figuratively from a lifetime of trauma, she finds herself embedded in a twisted game of politics when she’s forced into an arranged marriage with the tribal chief himself. A union built upon lies, Solana doesn’t expect her days to last long given Roman’s notorious temper.

Roman initially opposes the union, finding Solana to be entirely too fragile for his preference but eventually agrees under the guise that she will be unseen and unheard outside of her duties in giving him an heir.

What neither of these two realize is maybe there’s more to each other than meets the eye and that maybe the healing they’ve both been unconsciously looking for can be found in one another….. 

details:

cw/tw: extreme violence, graphic language, murder, drugs, torture, abuse (of children and adults), childhood sexual assault, mental health struggles, mafia, crime, fluff, smut, and suggestive content

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

pairing: roman reigns x poc!oc

feat characters: jimmy uso, jey uso, solo sikoa, naomi, nia jax, paul heyman, rikishi, the rock, sasha banks, cody rhodes, brandi rhodes, seth rollins, becky lynch, bianca belair, jade cargill, sami zayn, kevin owens, brock lesnar and more. (see cast here)

chapters:

act one

chapter one + chapter two + chapter three + chapter four + chapter five + chapter six + chapter seven + chapter eight + chapter nine + chapter ten + chapter eleven + chapter twelve + chapter thirteen + chapter fourteen

act two

chapter fifteen + chapter sixteen + chapter seventeen + chapter eighteen + chapter nineteen + chapter twenty + chapter twenty-one + chapter twenty two + chapter twenty three + chapter twenty four + chapter twenty five

act three

chapter twenty six + chapter twenty seven + chapter twenty eight + chapter twenty nine + chapter thirty + chapter thirty one + chapter thirty two + chapter thirty three + chapter thirty four + chapter thirty five (coming soon)

shorts:

dulce interrupting roman and solana during 'spicy' time

roman calling sam 'solana' while being intimate

jey's bad ass kids

au roman and solana first meeting

roman and fetu discussion

solana visits roman in his office

roman and solana halloween costume short

roman and solana in the gym

star-crossed lovers au short

roman and solana cooking short

roman and solana talk about dom short

solana asks roman to go out to dinner short

sick days

sleepless nights

before the fall

au short // made for me

leya

au roman being at the first ob-gyn appt

extras

⪨ click here to read asks regarding the story ⪩

⪨ click here to see current list of short suggestions ⪩

story inspired spotify playlist

roman's lock screens: part 1

roman's lock screens: part 2

roman's nsfw lock screens: part 3

roman and solana's house

roso visuals

roso texts

roso texts 2

roso texts 3

solana's instagram

solana's posts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

[lovelettersforthedamned]

on the prompt list 2 of angst "you're being mean." gives very much that little women scene but maybe with a happy ending cuz I wanna stay with Peter 🙏🙏🙏 I love that man - 🎀

Breathe

--genre: angst & fluff (at the end)

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

--word count: 1.3k

--warnings: language, reader has a slight panic attack, hyperventilating, peter is a big meanie in this, mention of wilson fisk (fuck that guy LOL).

--gif credits: @sincericida (aka the best)

At this moment, you wish you could time travel back to fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes ago, you were lounging on the couch. Fifteen minutes ago, you were in the middle of the TV show you’ve been binging for the past week. Fifteen minutes ago, you were at peace, sort of. 

Peter has been pushing himself past his limit for a while now. He would go out to patrol at night, come back well after midnight, and fall asleep on the couch. During the day, he’s off to work before you wake up. And if you do see him in the morning, he barely acknowledges your presence. Even though you two live together, it feels like you haven’t seen him in a few weeks. 

But now, you wish you didn’t see him tonight. His mood was sour as soon as he slipped through the window. He’s home early tonight. You look over to the clock beside you, the digital lines showing you that it was only eleven. You paused the show, calling out to him over your shoulder, “Hey, Pete! You’re home early.”

You were met with no response, only his heavy footsteps leading to your shared bedroom. You frown slightly as you rise to your feet, following him. He flips on the light when he enters the room, you gasp at the sight. He’s covered in dirt from head to toe, even some of it caking onto the grooves of his suit. 

He was holding his mask in his hand before he tossed it to the corner of the room. He starts to undress, and the more he pulls and pushes off his suit, the more you can see how blank his face is. He was standing in front of the mirror, but his eyes weren’t focused on anything. He just had this blank stare. 

You slowly walk up to him, before speaking, “Baby? Can I get you any water or anything?” Your tone was soft and cautious. You didn’t know what state he was in, the last time he was like this was a few years ago, right when he first started being the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’. Granted, you two were just friends at the time. It took him a while to come back to his normal self, but he was responsive throughout the entire time. And now, he still doesn’t answer you. 

You try again, “Hey, Peter…Let me help—”. 

“Fuck! No (Y/N), just get out! You’re starting to piss me the fuck off.”

A small gasp escapes your lips, as you take a step back out of surprise. He’s never yelled at you like this, but now that he has, you hated how it made you feel. Tears instantly well into your eyes as you try to maintain your composure. 

He’s now fully stripped from his suit, he leaves it on the ground when he starts to grab a change of clothes from the drawer next to him. You can’t help but look at his demeanor. He’s frantic and angry, and based on the slouch on his shoulders, he’s tired. You must’ve zoned out because Peter spots you still standing there looking at him, he walks over to you when he slips a shirt over his head. “Hey,” he is now directly in front of you, “are you stupid? I said, get—”. 

It’s you who cuts him off this time, you speak, still soft, “You’re being mean, Peter.” 

Now that Peter’s in front of you, he can see you clearly, his mind no longer jaded with the fog that came with patrolling. Your eyes are spilling tears down your cheeks while you try to hold back the sounds that come with sobs. It’s like Peter has been slammed with reality as soon as he made eye contact with you. And just like that, he realized what he said to you not even a minute ago. “Bug…I am so sorry,” he goes in for a hug, fully expecting to be met with your figure until you step back. 

He looks at you, your demeanor clearly shows that you don’t accept his apology just yet. “What has been going on with you these past weeks? Why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me, huh? Why!” You yell at him, your emotions coating your throat with anger. 

You can’t help but push at his chest with as much strength as you can muster. Of course, you at your strongest wouldn’t even leave a dent in Peter. Fuck his stupid super strength. Nonetheless, you still tried to hurt him the same way he did for weeks. Your cries echo off the walls. 

Peter hated seeing you like this, and it kills him to think that he was the one that caused this. He could see that you were draining yourself as you tried to punch and push him. He softly grabbed your wrists, pausing your movements, as you cried out, “You made–made me feel like I was invisible, and I hated that feeling Peter.” 

With Peter still holding you, you sink to the floor. Your body was exhausted. As you fell, Peter sank with you, making sure you didn’t hit the floor. Your breathing is still choppy, not quite catching a good breath, you could feel Peter push stray hairs that have fallen into your face behind your ear. 

“(Y/N), I am so sorry. Fisk has been fucking up my nights, and now my days. He’s getting closer and closer to you, and it scares the shit out of me, bug. I know that’s not an excuse for anything I’ve done or said to you, but please I need you to take a breath for me. Please,” his voice starts to shake as he opens up to you. 

It takes you a second before you can take a proper breath, Peter’s hand rubbing up and down your back as you do. His movements are slow as he takes his time with you. He’s trying so hard to make up for the time he’s spent avoiding you. He takes you all in, even in your current state. Peter can’t help but think about how stupid he’s been. He hasn’t even considered how you’ve been feeling while he thought he was protecting you. You had no idea. How could you? 

Once you’ve regained your breath, you look up at Peter, who has been looking at you this entire time. “Pete,” you start, holding his face, “you can’t leave me in the dark with these things. We’re a team. You can tell me when things get rough, baby. You don’t need to let it fester in your mind until something like this happens again. Let me help you, Peter. Let me in.”

With your hand still holding his cheek, he brings his own to hold it in place, sinking into your touch. He nods as tears prick into his eyes. “I’m sorry, bug. I am so fucking sorry,” his tears fall onto his cheeks as you wipe them away. 

You pull his forehead to touch yours, closing your eyes as you take a breath as he’s here with you, “We’ll figure this out. I promise you we will. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

You pull away from his touch, just to reconnect it through a deep kiss. You could taste the salt on his lips from the tears that made their way to them, but you didn’t care. Pulling away, you flash him a small smile, “I love you too.”

--author's note: okay pause, because this was supposed to be just a little blurb, but i couldn't resist. i am a huge sucker for angsty things, so i LOVED this. also, wanting to stay with peter is so real bc he's so bf coded...ANYWAYS thank you 🎀 anon for requesting yet another banger omg. my inbox/request are open!!! also my 200 follower celebration is ending soon, so send in those requests! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you love what you read. okay, ily bye<333

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Round 1 Matchups!

Side A

L Lawliet (Death Note) VS Muichirou Tokito (Demon Slayer)

Gohan (Dragon Ball Z) VS Kiibo/K1-B0 Idabashi (Danganronpa)

Haruka Sakurai (Milgram) VS Seishirou Nagi (Blue Lock)

Satoru Gojou (Jujutsu Kaisen) VS Seto Kaiba (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Umetarou Nozaki (Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun) VS Tamaki Suoh (Ouran High School Host Club)

Gin Gagamaru (Blue Lock) VS Taisei Yoshida (Assassination Classroom)

Itona Horibe (Assassination Classroom) VS Souichi Tanuma (Those Snow White Notes)

Light Yagami (Death Note) VS Tenma Matsukaze (Inazuma Eleven)

Shouto Todoroki (My Hero Academia) VS Sunny (Omori)

Broly (Dragon Ball Super) VS Kaworu Nagisa (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

Yu Narukami/Souji Seta (Persona 4) VS Sechs (XBlaze)

Kiyotaka Ishimaru (Danganronpa) VS Kento Nanami (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Nate River/Near (Death Note) VS Kyouya Ootori (Ouran High School Host Club)

Mash Burnedead (Mashle: Magic and Muscles) VS Noiz (DRAMAtical Murder)

Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist) VS Kabuto Yakushi (Naruto)

Lan Wangji (Mo Dao Zu Shi) VS Rui Kamishiro (Project Sekai)

James (Pokémon) VS Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece)

Yuusuke Kitagawa (Persona 5) VS Tsubasa Yuunagi (Hirogaru Sky! Pretty Cure)

Hitoshi-san (Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls) VS Illumi Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter)

Mikazuki Augus (Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans) VS Wakatoshi Ushijima (Haikyuu!!)

Homare Arisugawa (A3!) VS Kamille Bidan (Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam)

Subaru Mikazuki (My Roommate is a Cat) VS Atsushi Murasakibara (Kuroko no Basket)

Tanaka (Tanaka-kun is Always Listless) VS Natural Harmonia Gropius (Pokémon)

Haru (Tsuritama) VS Giorno Giovanna (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Floyd Leech (Twisted Wonderland) VS Laios Touden (Dungeon Meshi)

Touma Akechi (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.) VS Trafalgar D. Water Law (One Piece)

Lotte “Roy” Carmine (BlazBlue) VS Gon Freecss (Hunter x Hunter)

Nahoya “Smiley” Kawata (Tokyo Revengers) VS Senkuu Ishigami (Dr. Stone)

Ash Ketchum (Pokémon) VS Mafuyu Satou (Given)

Alhaitham (Genshin Impact) VS Shichirou Balam (Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun)

Shintarou Kisaragi (Kagerou Project) VS Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia)

Toshinari Seki (Tonari no Seki-kun) VS Takashi Natsume (Natsume’s Book of Friends)

Side B

Haruka Nanase (Free!) VS Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai)

Takeo Gouda (My Love Story!!) VS Karna (Fate)

Shintarou Midorima (Kuroko no Basket) VS Kim Dokja (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)

Roronoa Zoro (One Piece) VS Junpei Tenmyouji (Zero Escape)

Sig (Puyo Puyo) VS Kanata Shinkai (Ensemble Stars)

Kyoujurou Rengoku (Demon Slayer) VS Yugi Mutou (Yu-Gi-Oh!)

Legoshi (Beastars) VS Gaien "Enkidu" Enkidou (Under Night In-birth)

Doppo Kunikida (Bungou Stray Dogs) VS Hiroshi Odokawa (Odd Taxi)

Kusuo Saiki (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.) VS Katsuya Serizawa (Mob Psycho 100)

Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa) VS Haruhito Yano (Odd Taxi)

Yotasuke Takahashi (Blue Period) VS Manjirou "Mikey" Sano (Tokyo Revengers)

Kyouya Onodera (Talentless Nana) VS Misumi Ikaruga (A3!)

Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney) VS Shu Itsuki (Ensemble Stars)

Meguru Bachira (Blue Lock) VS Ren Mihashi (Big Windup!)

Ranpo Edogawa (Bungou Stray Dogs) VS Kaito (Vocaloid)

Zero (Puyo Puyo) VS Masayoshi Hazama (Samurai Flamenco)

Genos (One Punch Man) VS Jotaro Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

Vivia Twilight (Master Detective Archives: Raincode) VS Sora Harukawa (Ensemble Stars)

Satori Tendou (Haikyuu!!) VS Miles "Tails" Prower (Sonic X)

Houtarou Oreki (Hyouka) VS Kabane Kusaka (Kemono Jihen)

Ghiaccio (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) VS Tenya Iida (My Hero Academia)

Malleus Draconia (Twisted Wonderland) VS Tetsuya Kuroko (Kuroko no Basket)

Kensuke Aida (Neon Genesis Evangelion) VS Goku (Dragon Ball)

Shinichi Kudou/Conan Edogawa (Detective Conan) VS Toya Aoyagi (Project Sekai)

Rei Suwa (Buddy Daddies) VS Gin Ibushi (Your Turn to Die)

Jade Leech (Twisted Wonderland) VS Akihiko Sanada (Persona 3)

Xiao (Genshin Impact) VS Loid Forger (Spy x Family)

Souya "Angry" Kawata (Tokyo Revengers) VS Sabro Sabnock (Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun)

Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney) VS Tobio Kageyama (Haikyuu!!)

Kurapika (Hunter x Hunter) VS Saitama (One Punch Man)

Sol Badguy (Guilty Gear) VS Langa Hasegawa (Sk8 the Infinity)

Subaru Natsuki (Re: Zero) VS Yusei Fudo (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds)

[islandofsages]

hi hi!! I would like to request the boys' (ill let you choose!!) reaction to gn!reader (Yuu) slipping on a banana peel and falling :D

characters: nrc + rsa students x gender neutral yuu

tags: relationship not specified, crack, imagines format

warnings: none

author's notes: i decided to go with this format bc it's fun :D and this is a fun prompt :DD sorry if this is too short but it is just pure crack so

Is genuinely concerned for you and rushes over to you to see if you need any help

— Trey, Ruggie, Kalim, Jamil, Epel, Rook, Malleus, Silver, Sebek and Neige

Scolds you lightly for being clumsy but then extends a hand to help you up then tries to find the person who so ungraciously left a banana peel there

— Riddle, Leona, Jack and Vil

Laughs at you for a few seconds then helps you get on your feet

— Ace, Cater, Jade, Floyd, Lilia and Chenya

Helps you stand but then slips on the same banana peel himself

— Deuce, Azul and Grim

“L + ratio + gg loser + slipping on banana peels went out of trend years ago like what are you, a cartoon character-” you pull him down with you in the end

— Idia

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain level?” “Eleven.” “Then we should take you to the hospital immediately!” “Wait, I was joking, ORTHO WAIT-”

— Ortho

[albatmobile]

Cardinal Sins Chapter 11

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: M | 7.2k | TW: violence | Contains: answers fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter Eleven: Meet Me in the Woods

You stare down at your phone quizzically but, nonetheless, make your way over to the sliding glass doors. Upon opening them, you’re shocked to see Jade on the balcony. 

The slim woman is casually leaning against the railing as she takes in an aerial view of the city below. Her head tilts slightly as if to acknowledge your presence as you sidle up beside her, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you do. The twinkling lights and sound of traffic coming from the sleepless city below further serve to wake you up.

“Kinda surprised to see you again,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’m glad you kept my number.”

“Are you?” she asks coyly. 

Jade is clearly teasing you, much to your chagrin, but you’re too tired and too confused to do much of anything other than blush. You can’t help but feel entirely out of your depth with her. How exactly is one supposed to make small talk with an assassin? No, really, someone please send over notes for small talk with a merc 101 stat.

Without the help of any 101, you simply shrug, figuring it’s the least awkward thing to do in this situation. 

When she continues to stare at you out of the corner of her eye, you ask, “So, what’s up? Why are you here?”

“I think I have some information that may be beneficial to your little gang,” she says through the smallest of smirks. “Figured I’d be nice and let you in on it.” With this, she moves her hand in front of her face, splaying out her fingers as she looks over her nails nonchalantly. “You planning to keep me outside in the doghouse?”

“No, of course not,” you sputter as you quickly move to open the balcony door to welcome her inside clumsily. The entire situation is a strange juxtaposition to the last time she’d been in your apartment and, you know, tried to kill you for, like, the third time.

Once inside, however, she stays close to the door, silently looking around the apartment before allowing her eyes fall onto the open door of Lian’s room. You watch as her dark eyes soften briefly before she suddenly focuses on you again. 

You think she’ll finally tell you why she’s here, but instead she says, “You really treat her like your own.” Her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks.

“Always,” you say earnestly. 

She waits a moment before responding, “Good.” The way she looks at you, you can feel the respect that radiates from it. You open your mouth to ask why she came, but she beats you to it. “My contract’s been up for a while, I’m sure you know,” she says, and you nod. “However, as of a few weeks ago, they reached out asking if I would reinstate it.” You have so many questions, yet your mouth remains shut. “Last time I was here, I intended to follow through with the job.”

Your eyes widen. “So, you’re here to kill me?” 

You really don’t feel like having round 2, or, well, whatever fucking round it’d be with her at this point, while Lian’s asleep in the next room. This doesn’t, however, mean you’re not willing to throw down if it comes down to it. You also know that while Jason and Roy are ready to sleep, both are keeping an ear out for you and are ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.

Jade scoffs, “If that were the case, you’d already be dead.” She eyes you up and down, noticing how your fists are now clenched, and laughs- honest to god laughs. ���Calm down, rabbit. I told you I had information, now, didn’t I? The people pushing the renewal are the same as last time.”

“Who?” you demand.

“Well, Two Face’s crew were the ones who set the bomb off in your apartment.”

You take in the information quickly, your mind spiraling all the while. 

“What about Deadshot? Do you know who sent him?” you ask.

She looks entirely amused, as if she’s doing you a favor by letting you interrogate her. Regardless, she answers. 

“That would be Black Mask.”

Your mind is racing a mile a minute, no, second, as you take everything in. That just leaves…

“So, who sent you?”

With this, the corner of her lip quirks up briefly. “Feeble man called Scarecrow.” Scarecrow? Who the fuck is that? She seems to read the confusion on your face because she adds, “He’s green. I’d only started hearing about him after he contracted me, but since then, well, let’s just say he’s quickly making a name for himself.” Was that the man you saw escaping with Joker in your first vision? Was this the man from the tunnels?! No, the man in the helicopter at the dockyards? “For the last year, he and Joker have been inseparable. I know they’re planning something big, but they won’t let anyone in on it.”

Her information, though extremely helpful for filling in some of the gaps, only leaves you with more questions. Was Scarecrow just helping Joker vaporize the existing serum, or was something far more sinister awaiting from this deadly duo? What did The Court have to do with anything? Are they all teamed up, or are they battling it out for the glory of Gotham?

“I…uh…” You turn to Jade, confused as to why she’s suddenly stuttering. “My kid lives here. What I think they have planned, I can’t stand by and allow anymore,” Jade confides. “It’s bigger than just killing a few people for money… It’s a culling. They don’t care who they hurt; they care about how many they hurt. I refuse to let Lian become a casualty. That’s the only reason I’m telling you this. Got it?” You nod quickly, brows furrowing as you await the next reveal. “I don’t know why, but I think you can save everyone. It’s clear you’re already on the right track. After all, you were the one who found them in the tunnels,” she trails off coyly. “Or did I mistake you for another vigilante, Cardinal?”

“What about the tunnels?” you demand in a rush, ignoring her previous statement. You need to hear it. You need to hear that you’re not fucking crazy- that these visions hold meaning. 

Jade crosses her arms in front of her, staring you boldly in the eyes as she assesses your reaction. Finally, she sighs, uncrossing her arms as she does so.

 “From what I’ve gathered,” she shifts slightly, appearing uneasy as she reveals the information to you, “they’re poisoning the water supply, and they’re using the abandoned subway tunnels to do it.”

“Who’s they?” you ask, but as soon as the question leaves your mouth, she looks around at the windows as if expecting someone to suddenly burst through them. When they don’t, she gives you one last meaningful glance before showing herself out. 

“Don’t let Lian down.” With this, you watch as Jade flips off the balcony and into the encompassing darkness below.

Finally alone, you slump against the wall closest to you. Part of you considers waking up your partners, but you know it won’t do any good this late at night. With the weight of the world on your shoulders, you start planning. There’s no time to waste, and there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep now, anyway.

I think you can save everyone.

Fuck.

•••

Everyone seems confused as to why you’ve called a meeting at Wayne Enterprises at the ass crack of dawn, but regardless, Dick, Luke, Tim, and Damian meet you, Jason, and Roy there at 1:47 AM. Everyone’s suited up, but you can’t help but refer to them by their actual names, considering no one else will be in the building for at least another three or four hours.

The sun isn’t even a thought in the dark sky as your makeshift crew gathers around the executive conference table. Oliver and Dinah are currently on babysitting duty, while everyone around you preoccupies themselves with chugging down cup after cup of coffee to stay alert. 

With Bruce busy on patrol, the city’s fate hangs in the hands of his disciples.

After you catch everyone up on what happened a mere half an hour ago, you reveal the information you saw on the sticky note in the lab. For now, you keep the serums under wrap. You don’t exactly know if they’re a part of the plan, so you don’t want to derail the concrete leads you have until absolutely necessary.

“It’s all going down on April Fools,” you finally say, taking in the stark faces in the room as you do so. 

“Today?” Dick asks hesitantly as if dreading your answer. “Did you find out where?”

You nod. “The Gotham Marina.”

“How do we even start preparing for this?” Connor asks.

“Well,” Luke starts, “after the pool party, I went back to the tunnels to get another sample.” His suit suddenly whirs to life before producing a vial of clear liquid in the palm of his hand. You finally feel heard. Regardless of what Bruce thought of your visions' relevance, Luke acted on his own, trusting your claims over his own boss’. “I’ve been analyzing it for days now but still can’t make sense of it beyond a 32.41% match with the sample taken from the warehouse.”

After nearly two hours of analyzing, Tim and Luke both concur that it looks like it contains an amplified version of Joker Gas combined with something else. When you mention the emerging villain, Scarecrow, both look at each other, then back down at the sample before rapidly searching through Bruce’s database. After a few clicks, a scraggly mask suddenly pops up on the screen. The image is clearly a screengrab from Bruce’s bodycam and is apparently from his first and only run-in with Scarecrow a year ago, so the details are pretty blurry. Nonetheless, you still feel a familiar itch when you stare upon his mask, though you can’t place why. 

Another beat of silence as your crew watches them run another analysis on the water before a loud beep startles you awake. Apparently, you’d been drifting off into Jason beside you, with Roy doing the same on his other side. Jason looks down at you briefly, then his eyes flit to the screen where ‘UNKNOWN % MATCH’ is displayed across the screen.

“Could there be a remaining element besides Joker Gas and what’s in the subway water?” Roy asks as he moves closer to the screen to analyze the formula.

“If so, it’s most likely The Winter Rose,” Tim responds gravely.

“Annnd what exactly does that mean, again?” Wally asks, scratching his head in confusion.

“Nothing good,” Luke supplies. “I tried to formulate just what exactly its properties are but couldn’t find anything conclusive, even in a lab like this. Not to mention, we still can’t account for their formulation, considering we don’t have the complete percentages, let alone dosage they actually plan on using.”

“So, you’re saying that you need a bigger lab, right?” Dick steps forward, seeming to have a new plan formulating in his head as he does so. 

Luke nods as he considers the idea. “I mean, we’ll need a bigger lab regardless. Wayne Enterprises isn’t big enough to produce an antidote this complicated, especially not on this scale,” he admits.

“I think I can help you out, then,” Dick says as he takes the remaining sample from the chemical processor. 

“The antidote will have to be water-soluble,” Roy interjects before Dick can disappear.

“That too,” Luke agrees as the three men stop to look over the screen again as if it’ll suddenly reveal hidden information will suddenly be revealed. When the screen remains the same, Luke sighs, “With so many unknowns, what is a bigger lab even going to do?”

“We at least need to find something conclusive on the rose’s qualities before we can begin large-scale production, so that’s what I’m going to do. Plus, if there’s any trace of the stem in the water sample, The Watchtower will find it,” Dick says. “I need the stem, too. I’m not risking missing anything right now,” he demands as he fiddles with his wristwatch to contact Oracle. “I need contact with The Watchtower. Prepare a zeta tube connection for me off of The Gotham Center. In the meantime,” Dick says as he faces the remaining faces in the room, “start prepping a prototype antidote from what we know-."

“We hardly know anything,” Roy interjects. “We’ll just be wasting valuable time, Dick.”

However, Dick doesn’t seem to hear him. He thanks Tim, who brings him the bagged stem, before moving over to the disgruntled redhead. From here, Dick places a sturdy hand on Roy's shoulder, reminding you much of Bruce.

“At this point, sitting around fiddling our thumbs is the only thing that’s actually wasting our time. Let’s get a move on,” Dick says. He gives Roy, then everyone else, a meaningful look before exiting the room with Wally. 

Roy huffs, “So, while Dick’s in space, we’re just supposed to-.”

“Space?!” you cut Roy off with wide eyes, finally feeling awake for the first time since, well, Cheshire’s unexpected visit. “The Watchtower’s real? And it’s actually in space?!”

Everyone looks around in amusement, but you’re entirely amazed at how casual Dick is about going to fucking space.

“Shit,” Roy mutters to himself. “Don’t tell Bruce that I was the one who told you, okay?” In response, you half-heartedly mime zipping up your lips, smiling gently when the redhead’s frown finally cracks at the cute sight.

While Luke, Tim, Roy, Jason, Connor, and Damian look over the previous results, you, Steph, and Jon exit the conference room in search of a vending machine.

Right now, you’re tired, anxious, and seriously hungry. You know you won’t be much help to anyone unless you get some junk food in you and fast.

As soon as you’re out in the hall, both Stephanie and Jon notice the shift in your disposition.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asks with his dark brows drawn in concern at your uncharacteristic quietness.

Stephanie hums like she agrees with the question, “You seem off, for sure.”

“Haunted even,” Jon adds absentmindedly. He at least has the decency to throw his hands up in faux-surrender when you shoot a tired glare his way.

While everyone’s just now starting to understand how serious this is, you’ve known for so long and have been ignored at every turn. Even now, they have no idea what’s coming, though you have little more information to offer them.

“Thanks,” you huff half-heartedly. You’d escaped The Court mere hours ago, and now, here you are with time ticking dangerously close to combustion. “It all adds up,” is what you end up saying. Your words do nothing to quell the concerned look upon either of their faces, so you attempt to assuage the conversation. “I just mean,” you sigh, “everything’s coming to a head. It feels like the floor’s giving out beneath me, and all I can do is sit here and wait for it to envelope me whole.” Okay, well, that wasn’t any better.

Steph looks around at the bustling room and draws you out into the corridor. “What’s going on?”

“I still don’t think, even with all this manpower, that this is going to end well.” You can’t even bring yourself to look at her as all your visions angrily swarm your brain like a hive of wasps. “We’re too late,” you confess solemnly.

The vending machine is half-empty when you come upon it. Stephanie quickly inserts a code that causes the front of the machine to creak open like a door, leaving the insides ripe for the picking. She wastes no time in shoveling its contents into Jon’s arms before shutting it and motioning the three of you back down the hall.

“I don’t know why I’m the only one carrying anything,” Jon grumbles lightly.

“Super strength,” Stephanie supplies easily. “Well, that and feminism probably,” she adds after pretending to think on it.

They both look at you, once again noting in concern how you seem entirely preoccupied in your own head. Glancing at each other in concern, they engage you again.

“You know we’re all here for you, right?” Jon asks rhetorically as he jogs to catch up with your quick pace. “We’ll figure this whole thing out. It’ll be okay,” he promises you, though you seem largely unconvinced.

Meanwhile, Stephanie continues to take in your unfocused form as she gently places a hand on your shoulder. You halt in your tracks, finally coming back down to Earth. 

“Listen, we’re all in this together,” she says gently, and Jon nods cutely in agreement. “Some High School Musical ass shit, okay?” She cracks a smile, urging for you to do the same, but yours falls entirely too flat for either of them to believe. “Look, we’ve got the best people trying to crack the case. We’re all busting our asses to keep everything in control,” she tilts your head her way, looking into your eyes sincerely as she says, “so, no matter what happens, no one can say we didn’t try our damndest to save as many as we could, and I’m okay with that.”

Your eyes search her crystal blue ones for answers neither of you possess. 

“Well, I’m not.” You shake your head lightly. With this, you gently brush her hand off your shoulder to rejoin the others. It’s all hands on deck, and you can’t afford not to put every millisecond of your time into figuring this shit out. 

You’re going to save everyone. You’re going to put an end to this.

•••

Less than later and nowhere closer to any further answers, Dick returns with the results. Meanwhile, Wally follows behind him, looking entirely lost in thought.

“Please tell me you guys found something,” Roy desperately greets the stony looking men.

“Well, the subway water seems to just be a mixture of Joker Dust and Fear Gas. The stem, on the other hand, well,” he trails off as he stares at you uncomfortably, “it’s symbiotic.” Dick sounds grim as he faces the expectant room. Your stomach drops, queasiness overcoming your body as the realization dawns on you… Everyone seems to come to the same conclusion at once. “This means that what she’s been seeing have been actual glimpses into Joker’s brain,” Dick finishes. 

Their analysis confirms that the Cadmus scientist had been telling the truth. The reason you’ve been getting sick, the reason you’ve been losing sleep for a year, is because of this new serum. The more injections, the more trials, the more you’ve combined with that fucking psychopath. 

It completely breaks your heart when the majority, Jason included, takes a step back from you like you’re some kind of fucking ticking time bomb. Fuck’s sake- that’s exactly what you are.

“She’s a liability,” Tim says abruptly, looking as if he regrets his words as soon as he sees the hurt look on your unmasked face. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, though he now appears cautious in your presence. 

“What are we going to do?” Steph asks, searching across the other disturbed faces in the conference room. “If she can see his side, there’s a big chance that he can see ours, too. We can’t afford to have our plans-!"

“Hold up,” Roy interjects as he comes to your side, “she’s not leaving if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

Dick looks around uncomfortably. “I already alerted Bruce,” Dick says. “He doesn’t want her-."

“I don’t give a fuck about what he wants. This is her city just as much as it is his- mine,” Jason growls suddenly as he sidles up on the other side of you. You look up at him shyly, hoping he doesn’t think any less of you now, knowing what’s been going on inside of you for so long. He meets you with reassuring eyes that quell the anxiety you felt when he’d originally backed away from you, though not entirely. “She’s an invaluable asset to this team regardless.”

To help prove his point, you decide it’s as good a time as any to reveal the tubes you’ve been keeping under wraps.

“I have these serums,” you interject hastily. “They were in the lab I was held in. I don’t know if they’re going to use them, they may not even necessarily be the final versions of anything, but at least it’s something,” you interject hastily. “This is what we need to focus on now,” you say. “We have mere hours left whether I’m in this room or not. People are going to start showing up for work soon, so we need to make sure we’re not wasting what little time we have left in here.” You hand over the tubes, the second one carefully as it’s severely cracked, to Luke, who looks down at them like he’s seen a ghost. He meets your gaze briefly, seeming as hesitant as the others until you say, “I was right about the Subway water. Just think about what else I could be right about. This is a dire situation, and it’s only going to get worse. Trust me,” you say, pointing at your head, “I know.”

“That’s great and all,” Dick says with a smile that falls flat, “but this whole thing could be a set up to throw us off their trail. Maybe they wanted you to find these- it could be a plethora of other things. I really don’t think it’s a good idea to fully invest in this as a last resort.”

“These vials are our last resort though,” Luke says, still peering at the vials as if they were somehow going to explode in his hands. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take, especially if they can help us figure out percentages. Connor,” Luke says suddenly, “I’ll need your help analyzing the green vial while I check your analysis over. Wally,” Luke turns to the other redheaded man in the room, “I’ll need you checking over the purple vial while Tim checks over your analysis. We don’t have any time to fuck anything up, so everyone needs to stay sharp and, most importantly, fast.”

Connor and Wally briefly look at each other, then at Luke before, ultimately, taking up the challenge. With their super speeds and the two smartest men in the room checking their work, you start to think your group may just finally have a chance to stop this.

As the official plan starts taking shape, Stephanie and Dick agree to break off from the group to scour the subway systems for signs of anyone.  Jon, on the other hand, takes up the daunting task of surveying The Court Headquarters for the emitter. That is, if it’s even still there. You wouldn't put it past The Court to have another last-minute trick up their sleeve.

With the tasks all divvied up, you, Roy, Jason, and Damian help out wherever and however you can.

•••

Once Wally lays out the framework, Tim’s quickly able to piece together that the green vial is what’s currently in the subway water sample. When he and Luke go to compare Connor and Wally’s findings, they soon come to the conclusion that the purple vial is completely different and oddly absent from the water sample entirely. This fact stumps everyone in the room.

“At the very least,” Wally starts, “Connor and I can finally start composing an antidote.”

“We’ll need two,” Luke surmises, and Tim agrees. “These obviously are samples of a different formula, but it seems probable that they work in conjunction with each other.”

“Test the purple formula again,” Roy urges suddenly. “It has to be a match for The Winter Rose.”

Wally blurs out of view for a few minutes before phasing back.

“Preliminary results are showing a possible 100% match,” Wally states grimly. “How are we supposed to figure out an antidote for an extinct rose? No, no, no. How are we supposed to figure out an antidote and somehow make it water soluble in, oh, I don’t know,” the speedster sarcastically looks down at the watch attached to his suit, “two hours?”

“Not by sitting around moping,” Connor pipes up. Damian huffs in agreement as he fiddles around on one of the available monitors to attempt his own deduction with Roy’s help.

It’s at this exact moment that Jon flies back into the conference room appearing panicked.

“The emitter,” Jon speaks at a nearly super-human speed that you struggle to keep up with, “it’s gone. Their entire base is up in flames.”

Jason wastes no time in contacting Dick.

“Are you guys seeing anything?” Jason asks. “We have evidence to believe the emitter is on the move.”

Static.

“Nothing down here yet,” he finally replies. “We just got here a little bit ago, though,” Dick adds before cutting out into static again.

You can’t afford to waste any time, something Luke realizes as he resumes doling out more tasks.

“We’ll need all the super speed we can get,” Luke says as he comes upon Jon. “Think you can handle a little bit of chemical analysis?”

“I, uh,” Jon sputters. The Kryptonian appears as if he thinks anyone else in the room is better qualified for it but accepts regardless. “Of course.”

With three speedsters working on an antidote, everyone else in the room works on motives.

“They’re obviously after control,” you say. “They keep mentioning something big, and having symbiotic control over a fear-crazed Gotham City seems like just the way to do it. If Joker has anything to do with it, it makes sense that it would happen today, anyway.” April Fools has Joker’s name all over it and is just another clue leading you to believe that Joker really is involved in this whole plot.

“What I’m sure everyone is thinking is that they’re going to use the emitter in the subway system, but until we have proof of anything of the sort, we can’t believe it to be a fact,” Damian warns. “We need to remain sharp.”

“It seems like a plan The Court would want in on, but why would they want Joker to be the one in control?”

“They’re going to fuck him over, or, well, at least try to,” you say before repeating what you’d heard at The Court meeting a week prior. 

“It still feels like we’re missing something,” Jason pipes up, leaving Roy to nod in agreement.

“Nothing’s missing,” Damian insists as he continues to type away at the large monitor in front of him and Roy. “Some men just want the world to burn,” Damian says, sounding grave. The man is still facing the computer screen, but his reflection reads clearly on the reflection on the screen. “You know that as much as I do, Todd.”

•••

Nearly two hours later, you’re no closer to a cure, but the process is steadily moving along. Connor, Wally and Jon are all on the cusp of discovery, it’s only a matter of minutes before one of them has a breakthrough, they inform the room.

Suddenly, the comms burst to life again.

“We’re not seeing any movement down here,” Stephanie says. “Nightwing and I are headed over to Batman’s position at the marina.”

“We’ll give you all the heads up when it starts getting active,” Dick adds.

By the time Luke sends you, Jason, Damian, and Roy to prepare to go undercover, it’s nearly 7 am on April Fools. 

In the meantime, Bruce has closed off the entire R&D wing for the day to make room for the speedsters and their experiments as they slowly inch closer to a cure. You can’t help but wonder if it’ll be enough.

With little else to do but wait, your partners drive you back to your apartment where they encourage you to try to get some sleep. After a bit of convincing, your tired body easily manages to nod off. Your dreams are surprisingly empty, though the fact isn’t comforting in the slightest. Especially not when you know that at any point, shit could go down. You’re all just waiting on the call.

•••

After not nearly enough sleep, the team reconvenes at the Clock Tower.

Superboy, Flash and Jon have already made the breakthrough, now all they need to do is mass produce the antidote. Nightwing and Spoiler are still busy scouting out the marina for any changes while Batman meets Commissioner Gordon and a small fleet of policemen in the tunnel systems. Bruce had let the commissioner know about the terror plot on Gotham sometime while you were asleep, so the police are on standby and equipped with masks. In the little time they have, the police are doing everything they can while still remaining inconspicuous to minimize the effects of the anticipated gas attack.

All the while, Luke and Oracle watch all sides of the operation from her gigantic computer screens that easily rival the size of the Batcave’s. For safety, Alfred has agreed to stay with Batwing and Oracle and is currently puttering about in the small kitchen, dutifully making tea for the sleep-deprived tower inhabitants. 

When Damian arrives at the tower, he steps out of the elevator, then turns back to dramatically drag in a decently filled clothing rack. You and your partners remain mostly quiet. Everyone’s exhausted and on edge- it’s not a good combination. 

It feels like Damian’s just arrived when you get the heads up.

“They’re starting to board the ship,” Nightwing alerts over the comms, sending a flurry of panic into the pit of your stomach. You don’t feel prepared in the slightest. 

“The women I’m seeing are all wearing red,” Spoiler adds after a beat.

“There’s still no sign of the emitter down here in the tunnels,” Batman adds gravely. “I’m heading back out on patrol. Nightwing,” Batman suddenly says, “we’re on damage control for the time being. Spoiler, Red Robin, Batwing: you’re in charge of intervening where needed. We’ll need all the help we can get once the antidote is ready; that’s our top priority, but for now, focus on finding the emitter. Oracle will keep an eye on all aspects of the plan and communicate any changes as they become apparent. Robin, Red Hood, Arsenal, and Cardinal will be doing recon on the yacht.”

“What about us?” Jon’s voice crackles over the comm system. 

“Just focus on making the antidote,” Batman replies. “One of you will need to help disperse it while the other two remain producing more of it. We can’t risk not having enough.”

“We’re out of time,” Jason says grimly. “It’s now or never.” 

There’s no time left, just as you’d feared and warned for months now. 

With no other choice, you don the only red dress on the rack of options for formal wear Damian had brought. 

The dress is as over-the-top as your gown for the Wayne Gala all those years back had been. It’s a sleeveless, satin, crimson ball gown with a high slit running up the left side (X). However, the sweetheart-neckline dress leaves your scar completely visible, something Damian fixes in an instant. He gently hands a diamond choker to Jason, who easily fastens the cool metal around your neck, hiding the scar from view. With matching, extravagant earrings, and some strappy heels, you feel complete.

“You look beautiful,” Jason says in a hushed voice, leaving you to blush. Though the fate of the city rests in your hands, you can’t help but get lost in this intimate moment. Damian leaves to go change, but Jason and Roy stray behind. 

With Alfred conversing quietly with Babs and Luke, the three of you are left to your own quiet huddle.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Roy asks gently. 

You know it’s nothing about undermining your abilities and everything to do with checking in with you. You haven’t slept much in the past, well, months at the very least, coupled with the fact that you just escaped The Court of Owls mere hours ago and were about to come face-to-face with them again, plus Joker.

“As much as I want to play Oracle with, you know, Oracle,” you joke, “I know I can help put a stop to this. I need to be there,” you insist, “to help put an end to this.”

With your resolute behavior evident, your partners are left to gather you up into a group hug. 

“Feels like a fucking goodbye,” Jason replies with thinly veiled distaste. “I don’t do this bullshit; it’s bad karma.”

“Well,” Roy teases as he squishes the two of you harder, “you do today, Jay.”

Eventually, Jason pulls away. Regardless of his previous stance, Jason leans down and places his rough hands against your soft cheeks. Without wasting another second, Jason’s lips brush gently against yours, slotting against them with a soft familiarity that leaves your heart pounding. Your hands rest on his muscular shoulders as you apply more pressure to the chaste gesture, savoring each and every second of Jason’s careful touch. 

When you split apart, you feel the heat of a wildfire blush gracing your cheeks in the wake of his love and reassurance. Still in Jason’s hold, you feel Roy’s verdant eyes impishly watching. When you finally manage the courage to abashedly glance at the redhead through your lashes, you feel an unwarranted flash of shyness shock your system. It’s something Roy notices easily, and his smirk portrays easily. 

Jason glances down at your heated cheeks, then over at Roy’s wolfish grin before relinquishing you over to the redhead.

Roy wastes no time in taking your hands into his, squeezing them gently as he openly eyes you up and down.

“You look fucking amazing, baby,” he breathes earnestly. “Definitely going to remember this for later, trust me,” Roy adds cheekily, leaving you to giggle. Your heart thrums happily against your flushed chest, all while your eyes excitedly trace all the familiar features across Roy’s handsome face. “Come on now, princess,” Roy says as his eyes flit with each movement yours make. It’s as if he’s waiting for approval he should know he’s had all along. Well, that is until… “You know you want in on this,” he finally finishes his sentence with a lame waggle of his fiery brows. 

And, just like that, the spell is broken. 

“Dude,” you bemoan through a fit of laughter, only further spurred on by Jason’s snort. However, when Roy uses his hold on you to spin you around into a deep dip, your laughter abruptly stops. 

“I’m gonna get that kiss, darlin’,” Roy insists with a wink. 

Yup, the blush is 100% back on.

“Roy,” you trail off breathlessly as your eyes meet his. 

Suddenly, Roy’s light green eyes shift, and yours dutifully follow suit over to an enamored Jason. While you’re still dipped in his arms, Roy stretches his neck to steal a kiss from Jason, who huffs at the contact though his cheeks tell the true story. More crimson than your dress, his cheeks light up in a way you know leaves him even more embarrassed. It’s cute.

The cute sight is only bestowed upon you for so long before Roy can no longer contain his patience. 

“C’mere,” he says in a raspy voice as he draws you to his lips. Nothing about this kiss is chaste in the slightest, something Jason obviously enjoys as he lets out an approving hum as you sigh against Roy’s eager, wet lips.

For a moment, you truly forget about what’s about to happen. Just a moment. Then, reality crashes back down.

Roy finally releases you from the dip and Jason wastes no time in gathering you back up into his arms.

“Part of me wants to take you away from here,” Jason admits as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Everything in me selfishly wants to keep you out of this, to keep you safe. I know Roy feels the same way.”

“I remember saying something similar to her.” The sound of Damian’s voice startles you as the man rejoins your group in the main area of the tower, fully dressed in a three-piece suit. “As I recall, everything ended up fine,” he finishes with a small smile in your direction. 

“Let’s fucking hope so,” Jason says, sounding somewhat terse. 

This all feels so much more dangerous than The Court meeting, and you can't help but wonder just how many will die tonight on account of your negligence. You can’t help but bemoan that you didn’t speak up more, that you hadn’t been louder about what you felt was happening all along. Regardless, you’re going to make it right- even if it’s the last thing you do. If not for Gotham, for Lian.

“We need to get a move on,” Damian insists, motioning to the two suits still on the rack. Without further convincing, Jason and Roy snatch their clothes up before retreating off in the direction Damian had just emerged from.

While your partners are getting dressed, you turn your attention to the remaining dresses on the rack, only to find something bright red amongst them.

“What are these?” you question Damian as you pull out two long pieces of red fabric.

“Ah,” Damian replies as he steps closer and takes one of them from your hands, “I almost forgot.” You quirk a brow at his statement. It’s not in Damian’s nature to be forgetting things pertinent to a mission but it further shows just what a shit show the past few hours have been for everyone involved.

“Are those the gloves?” Luke asks suddenly, seemingly distracted from whatever Babs has on the screen as he addresses Damian.

“Gloves?” you ask dumbly before finally clearly seeing the seams of the fingers. “For me?”

“Well, you’ll need some kind of weapon, now, won’t you?” Luke teases as he watches Damian help you into them. “Damian and I had a bit of free time and wanted to try to perfect your suit’s gloves. These are still technically in the prototype phase, but they’re made out of a similar material to Batman’s cape.” You look over the design appreciatively. “You’ll notice the claw material is still just as strong but a whole lot lighter.”

“So light, I don’t even see the claws,” you joke as you look them over on your arms. They just look like completely normal, elbow-length gloves. 

“See,” Luke says excitedly, “that’s the beauty of the material.” 

With this explanation, or lack thereof, Damian takes your arms by the wrists and jerks them down. You go to pull away from his hold when you hear a whoosh. When you look back down, the normal gloves have tented into impressively sharp claws, reminiscent of the ones your Cardinal suit has.

“It’s like a tent!” you reply excitedly, moving to sheath them and draw them out once more. 

“Yes,” Damian replies with obvious distaste, “like a tent.” His distaste doubles when you dramatically unsheathe your claws like Wolverine. “I fucking knew you’d do some dumb nerd shit like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you and Luke still created them, anyway,” you tease right back, still enthralled by the gorgeous weapons you don.

Before Damian can retort, his phone rings. He glares at you briefly as if to say you’ve been let off the hook before answering.

“You’re really calling me for some sappy goodbye?” Damian asks after he picks up with his signature tch. Though his words sound hostile, you notice the way his face softens at the sound of Jon’s voice on the other end of the call.

You step away with Luke to give Damian some space just in time for Jason and Roy to rejoin you. You swear your jaw nearly drops at the sight that meets you. You’ve never seen them so dressed up since, well, the last Court meeting. However, they were fully decked out this time in similar three-piece suits to Damian’s, complete with white gloves and slicked-back hair that wasn’t present on the last mission.

“Speechless?” Roy approaches you wolfishly. “So was Jay, if you catch my drift,” he teases a red-cheeked Jason with a cheeky nudge.

“Shut up,” Jason says half-heartedly, nudging him back with enough force to leave Roy rubbing soothingly at the not-so-gentle contact.

“This will obviously be a mission without firearms,” Luke starts sheepishly. “That being said, I’ve helped craft some of the best weapons I can for your crew.” With this, the man unveils two, dastardly looking swords that retract from their hilts at a breakneck speed with a sinister shhhink.

Jason eyes the blades appreciatively, nodding to Luke to convey such as he tests out their weight for himself.

“These definitely lessen the blow of not having my handguns,” he admits, sounding genuinely grateful. You, on the other hand, are just glad he’s playing along with Bruce’s rules for tonight. 

“Damian has a similar one,” Luke admits. “Stealth and strength are what we were going for when we were tinkering around in R&D, so all of the blades are made from a nearly indestructible material called Nth Metal. Actually,” Luke finishes with excitement as Damian pockets his phone and joins your group, “I made some collapsable arrows for Roy with it, too. The tips are entirely coated in a thin layer of the material to remain as lightweight and effective as possible.”

It’s all Luke has to say to get Roy giddily looking the weapons over.

“This is fucking sick, man,” Roy thanks him with a clap on the back and a wide grin. “Only you could pull some shit off like this.” At this, Damian clears his throat expectantly. “The fuck do you want, hellspawn?”

Damian’s deathly glare sears into Roy’s verdant eyes. 

“Some god damned credit,” the raven sneers. 

“Credit?” Roy asks, though his eyes appear too mischievous for the question to have been genuine. “Oh! My bad.” At this, Damian perks up a bit, though still seems entirely wary of Roy’s approaching form. “Thank you so much, Damian. You’re the smartest, most intelligent,” at this, Roy leans in and gives Damian a noogie, “little shit I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” Damian quickly smacks Roy’s bionic hand from his previously meticulously styled hair. “I should kill you for this, Harper,” Damian hisses, getting up in the redhead’s face, but Roy appears completely unperturbed with a shit-eating grin.

“What’s the ETA?” You suddenly hear over the comms. At this, the mood in the room shifts immediately. 

With nothing left to stall your group, the four of you say goodbye to Babs, Alfred, and Luke before wordlessly making your way over to the marina. When you’re nearly to your destination, Batman’s voice startles across the comm system to debrief your squad.

“We’ll be nearby in case anything goes wrong. Remember, tonight, your group follows my commands,” Batman says. “You’re to keep it non-lethal.” With this, everyone in the car shifts their attention to a pissed-off-looking Jason, though he thankfully bites his tongue.

“Understood,” Jason responds tonelessly from the driver’s seat. “But just as you’ve done numerous times in the past, it doesn't mean I'm saving everyone.”

“Hood.” Batman’s warning is evident without anything more needing to be said.

“We’re all in agreement,” Damian ends up replying for Jason, leaving your partner to roll his eyes.

There’s a beat of silence before Batman adds, “Stay safe out there. All of you.”

As the car settles into park, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in for who knows how fucking long. Before you can get too in your head, Damian shoves two owl masks into your gloved hands in the backseat before handing one to Jason beside him in the front. Handing one off to Roy, you blankly stare down at the remaining white mask, surrounded by a sea of red fabric. 

With the marina a mere two blocks away and the sun officially having set, you slip on the owl mask and step out of the car. 

This whole situation is all your fault, but you’re going to try your damndest to right it… to right everything.

It all ends tonight.

A/N: thank you for being patient while I got my laptop situation figured out! ars and cs have both been updated and edited in case you want to check out the change I made. The end of chap 10 has been changed if you want to do a quick reread before diving in here btw!

also, joker dust / gas is new to batman kinda as a way to show the rise of a new villain, meaning scarecrow may have been on batman’s radar, but he hasn’t necessarily put in time to figure out who was behind the mask yet bc scarecrow wasn’t really a big threat like joker aka why there’s not much info on the man yet

[next: coming soon]  ||  masterlist || pinned || ways to support

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 8

Chapter 8: malicious Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry, I dont think i have anything to explicit here... WC: 3854 As promised, chapter 8 tonight idc what time it is i made a promise and its too late for this shit. fuck it we ball...I'm pretty happy with how this turned out i really hammered away at it until i got sick of reading it... watch out for meanie arthur 😈 Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a grump lol

Your family meets Arthur.

The sunlight is a pale yellow on the dusty canvas of his tent. The world is a pretty color, deep browns of fur and cream colored fabric. You rub your eyes, not putting much together just yet. You try to wipe away the sleep that clings to you. You’re alone in the tent, not as warm as you usually are with the unfairly warm blooded man that is typically at your side. You suppose that it is more that he keeps you at his side. You turn over and lay on his bed roll a bit longer, lazing about in the chill of the morning air. You enjoy the smell of him; leather and gun oil, coffee perhaps and bitter tobacco, more than you want to admit. You nearly fall asleep again, listening to the sound of Arthur getting ready to be on the road again. 

The flap of the tent is parted by Arthur's hand, porting his leather gloves again. It's bright and cold all at once. 

“Hey, sunshine. How’s my girl this mornin’,” He has a smile under his hat, he’s crouching to look inside the tent while you sit up, supporting yourself on unsteady arms. He has a soft, endearing look when he watches you try to organize your hair, rub your face. 

“I’m ok…Is it very early? How long have you been awake?” 

“Nah, about eleven now, should get goin’, looks like those clouds are comin’ back. Been up awhile,” He has a hand out to help you up and out of his tent. Then he’s helping put your arms through the sleeves of the coat he gave you, sagging a bit, made for his broad frame. This act is so gentlemanly, so strangely kind for a man like him. Jaded, guarded, and gruff. His hands smooth down your arms, so big on you, making you bite your lip. He looks down at you, the neutral line of his mouth quirks up at the sides, over his rugged features. Unable to meet his expression, you tilt your head, looking away. Something warm and sweet pools in your chest. 

You can’t help the small smile which breaks your usual overhanging worry and overwhelmed bewilderedness you carry around now, ever since you’ve been with Arthur. His certainty helps you cling to some semblance of stability. But really, you’re not sure about anything. It doesn't matter what you are though, it matters more that Arthur gets what he wants. 

You nod, he was right when he said it wasn't so early. The sun had come for a day but was certainly on its way out now. Yellow light still casts a green glow through the trees for now but soon it would be all dusky tones and colors, a monotone repetition of winter. You would miss the light but you weren't unused to the gray and the fog. The sun had brought a small levity to your journey with Arthur but now it was back to the gloom, returning to your anxious state, waiting impatiently to see your family.

Arthur has a small fire going and you come and help prepare food while he tears down the rest of the camp. You are cleaned up and fed in not so long. Lucky has a breakfast of carrots and some oatcakes Arthur has hesitantly offered, patting at Lucky's side, your horse shifting his feathered legs. 

You're back on the road in not much time at all, by noon at least and the sky is almost completely obscured by the hampering weather. You fear it might rain soon or even begin to snow as Arthur drives the cart further. He's even more nervous than yesterday, more antsy. He doesn't reach for his cigarettes and you don't give him one, too busy feeling unnerved yourself. Instead his hands fidget, gripping the leather of the reins, scratching absentmindedly at his face, sighing and rolling his shoulders out. Something is weighing on him, like he’s mulling over what’s going to happen next.

“Why are you- why are we going to see my parents?” You ask, brittle, quiet as the winter around you. Still, you speak over the wagon wheels rolling over the earth.

“That’s what you want. Ain’t no other reason,” His answer is clipped. You can tell it isn’t the whole truth.

He turns to you and huffs at your face, disbelief etched into the tilt of your head, the furrow of your brow. 

“I don’t like loose ends. I ain’t one to leave them lyin’ around. I can’t afford to have people sniffin’ around right now. Not ever.” 

“Sniffing around? I don’t understand. Is this about the robbing thing? Are you an outlaw?” You ask, an incredulous tone to your voice. 

He gives you a look out of the corner of his eye before he shifts his halfhearted focus back to the dirt road. “No.” It seems you’ve touched a nerve of his. You will pester him about it later, perhaps when he’s more in the mood to withstand some of your more brazen behaviors. For now, at least your back and forth has distracted you enough that you almost rode past the path that breaks off to your home. 

You sigh and guide him down the small road to your family cabin. You pick at your nails but stop when Arthur puts his hand over yours, squeezing just enough to make you sigh and stow your hands in the coat he gave you. 

You can see the wooden cabin through the trees, chickens clucking in the yard and the bare vegetable patch is frozen over for the winter, some pelts your father left to dry are hanging from the porch roof. It's humble and quaint, a little broken down from too long without repairs but it's sturdy and strong.

Your father peeks out of the gingham curtain your mother put up before rushing outside. You jump down and are surprised that he has such a large hug for you, a laugh. Your mother runs out as well. They're gathering you between them, gasping your name. You nod, throat tightening with emotion. With which emotion, you don’t know entirely. You're up to your neck in nerves. But there's happiness in seeing your parents. Knowing that they can learn of where you’ll be going. You remember what Arthur said about chaining you to his bed. They’d never know what happened to you if he held such a desire as that. 

“What happened to you?! Are you hurt?” You shake your head while your mother looks you over, searching for some grave injury. 

“Who’s this?”Arthur leans against the cart, holding his belt. He pushes off. You think of all that has happened so far. But you obey Arthur’s wishes, that you will convince your parents that this man saved your life and has fallen in love with you in three days, that he wished for your hand in marriage. 

“He… He saved me, I- he saved my life,” You swallow. It really is the truth, you most likely would have frozen to death without Arthur’s hospitality. Arthur seems apprehensive of this situation, as if waiting for some terrible event to transpire. But you know your father and the clap on Arthur’s back takes only him by surprise. He's grabbing Arthur's hand and shaking it. 

“Please, come inside,” He’s motioning for everyone to join. You come inside to your grandmother sitting by the fire. She tosses a lazy look over her shoulder. You come to her side but she seems to waver. 

“Is she ok?” You reach for her hand but she’s been like this for a while, fading from the world while staying in it. 

“Yes, she's just fine. Did you ever make it to the doctor?” The question seems to pester Arthur but he’s distracted by your father asking for his name. 

“Arthur… Arthur Morgan,” He’s looking to you for some sort of direction but you're not sure what to offer him. He lets an easy grin slip over his features while he shakes your fathers hand. You can tell it’s a bit strained. 

“No, I got lost,” you say, feeling incompetent and childish as always. You grip your hands, fidgeting. Looking up with your face tilted downwards, you look at the man who stands in your family room, looking out of place. He seems to notice, trying to bring his high and wide shoulders down a little, keeping his limbs close. Perhaps to seem smaller than he is. He bows his head a little, hiding his eyes beneath the shadow cast by the hat he wears. “Arthur let me into his home,” 

The look he gives you with his blazing blue eyes is not one you’ve seen on him before. A sort of satisfied pride, different from his normal smug expression. His hands hold one another as he stands tall and strong. You bring your gaze to the fire. 

“Well, I’m glad he was there, couldn’t have you frozen to death out there,” both of your parents give him appreciative simpers. 

Every comment they make acting as if it wasn’t at their insistence you went out irks Arthur. You can tell by the way he lowers his hat over his eyes again, a small sneer pulling at his lip. You just nod. Your parents stand unaware, watching the two of you, the way you stand closer to Arthur than to them when they let you. Your mother gives you an odd look and you shrug slightly. 

Your pa motions for all of you to sit in front of the fire in some wooden chairs while your grandmother shuffles to her day bed, your mother at her side to help her. You sit next to Arthur, his heavy footsteps have his spurs jingling until he sets himself down, creaking the chair. His place at your side doesn’t go unnoticed by your father who raises his brow. Your Ma joins all of you, next to your father. 

“I went looking for you, you know, couldn’t get through the snow,” your father looks happy to see you. You smile lightly. You’re unsure what to say. 

“Thank you again for letting her stay with you, Mr. Morgan,” your mother snaps upwards. “Would you like something to eat, drink?” 

“No, ma’am, I’m- uh I’m fine,” you’re surprised he seems so unadjusted. He could shoot a man with ease but can’t speak to your mother the way he cockily talks to you. You suppose it would be much too strange for him to do so while playing perfect suitor.

She sits down again. Your father has his pipe on the table which he stuffs with tobacco. He has it lit in a second or two and he puffs smoke. 

“So, what’s going on that you came with a cart on Lucky? You certainly didn’t have one when you left,” Your father asks point blank. He doesn’t mind the sudden change of tone. It makes your stomach roil. You had hoped you wouldn’t have to talk about it so soon, but your father makes quick work of getting down to brass tacks. You turn to Arthur. He looks at you with sureness in his features, strong jaw set and big hands clenched over his thighs. You don’t know what he’s going to say. 

“I intend on marryin’ your daughter,” his words are blunt and stun your parents. He matches your fathers matter-of-fact way of speaking. Your parents stare between the both of you oddly. Obviously, perhaps not expecting this turn of events. A woman as young as you bringing a man around, having been unaccompanied for three days now. Then your father removes the pipe from his lip. 

“I don’t see why not,” he nods easily, as if deciding between jumping off a cliff or walking away. You’re shocked he would agree so readily. Hardly a decision or a deliberation. Your mother looks to your father, questioning him. “You saved her life, after all,” the way he words it makes it sound like by saving you, Arthur is entitled to you. 

“Dear, isn't he a bit…she… she’s quite young,” Your mother puts up some brief resistance. You look at Arthur, whose brows crinkle slightly. You know Arthur is much older than you, more experienced in things of the world. But you had never thought too much about it, hadn’t even asked how old he was. What did it matter when he was taking you to bed, when he had you in his home? What bearing does it have on anything? You doubt Arthur would have been persuaded to leave you well enough alone should you have pointed out how much older he was. If anything, he would derive pleasure from such a comment. 

You don’t mind his age much, really, you hadn’t even particularly noticed it too much. Not having much experience with men makes Arthur the baseline, the default. Younger men could have been different but you wouldn’t know anything about it. Arthur is all you have in that aspect. You look at the weathered lines over his features, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the freckles from staying in the sun too long, scars and the small dip of his flesh just over his cheeks. You didn’t think any of him as ugly. Only rugged, sturdy. You had come to like how he looked, how in charge of himself he was. He had a strong jaw and brow and an even more distinctive profile. There is only certainty in his eyes, only his usual prideful stare. 

“If Arthur cares for her, would care for her, isn't that quite enough? She won't be young forever, ” Your Pa’s dated ideals are at the forefront of this conversation. You fumble with your fingers and pick at your nails. Arthur doesn’t stop you this time. You knew your father wasn't too traditional but he hasn't even thought to ask if you liked Arthur at all. Perhaps he assumed you did. How little he cares for your opinion does hurt you, makes your heart twist and your stomach ache. You hate that a part of you is happy that you’ll be with Arthur now. You’re conflicted, torn between shame, contentment, and sorrow. 

“Well, I guess I’m just a very lucky man,” You think he can tell by the way your face falls how crushed you are. Arthur’s deep voice resounds from beside you, you hadn't expected him to speak very much. When you look at him, he has a soft smile. His words do little to help but they still have an effect on you. It isn't the first time he's called himself lucky for having you but this time is more meaningful to you. It’s a somewhat private meaning he intends for you and only you. You let a small smile perk up your face. 

“I suppose, perhaps it is time for you to be your own woman, now,” your Ma nods solemnly. 

You’re not sure why this comes as a surprise to you. But it does. Arthur looks at you, the look on his face is unreadable. Maybe he knows how odd it is that your parents are so willing to leave you to him. Or perhaps he’s happy that his desire is about to be fulfilled. You guess he expected some sort of fight. Like he would prefer to fight for you, to solidify himself as the most important thing in your life. He’s already proven he can care for you so your father is calmly discussing the marriage with your ma. Their voices drown out in your ears, no longer assigning meaning to the sounds. You look at Arthur's hand, the way his fingers scrunch up and form a fist as he crosses his arms over his chest. A jittery exhale is all you have to add to the conversation.

Perhaps the other girl he had was worth the trouble her father had gone through to make sure she didn’t marry a man like Arthur. Your parents are just happy to see you married, maybe they consider you homely enough to be lucky to have anyone seeking your hand. An ugly reality but a likely one to you. Your focus is so much that you don’t notice that you're biting your tongue until it hurts, gripping your knees hard. All you want is to be away from here but that isn’t happening. 

It’s a strange air that settles over your family room. It’s only broken by your mother bidding you to your room so you can pack things away in a chest for you to take with you. She says the both of you should leave the men to talk. You rise and walk to your bedroom, too dazed to bother turning to Arthur.

Once you’re in your bedroom, your mother closes the door behind you. She pulls out the chest she used to keep old blankets in. She starts to pack away your clothes, your baubles from when you were a babe. A blanket from when you were just born. Your mind is in too many places at once. You pick up some books, trinkets your father made for you. The room is small, not much for you to bring with you. Just like Arthur said. You watch your life disappear into the wooden box, to be taken away so you could live it with Arthur.

“He seems like a good man. You’re lucky to find one like that, just by chance,” your mother speaks into the brittle quiet of the room. Arthur can be a good man, he has been a good man before. But you’re not sure that he is one. You simply nod along. 

“This isn’t happening because… because you’re with his child or some other such atrocity?” Her tone is clear. You think he spills all of his spend on your thighs or belly to avoid that outcome. There certainly was an atrocity, or at least she would think so but it won’t end in you being with his child. For now. Wasn’t that what every man wanted with a wife? Maybe Arthur didn’t want children but you had no way of knowing but to ask him. You can’t imagine yourself working up the nerve to ask him that. 

“No, he was very… proper with me,” you lie through your teeth. You’re trying not to laugh like a loon at how untrue that statement is. Trying to be convincing when usually you’re anything but. You wince privately, sensing your own awful lying, hoping you can fool your mother. 

“He doesn’t look the gentlemanly type but looks can be deceiving. I’ve not seen a gentleman but those guns are something. And that coat, he must be quite the hunter, even your father has never given you a coat like that,” She's excited to talk about him. Like he was a boy you liked, not a grown man to marry you. “He seems a bit old for you but it's not too uncommon, a man like him wanting a young wife,” 

“Yes, he was very nice,” your voice is flat and short as you fold your clothes away. You tuck the things too homely under the bed, perhaps your mother will find them later. Her voice floats over, making you freeze. Like the icy air has drifted in from a drafty window, it feels like the room drops several degrees.

“He did something to you, didn’t he?” you don't try to face her, biting your lip. Your hands scrunch into the fabric of the clothes you were folding. You always were a terrible liar. 

“No,” You finally decide to look at her, trying to keep your response simple, leaving no room for interpretation but it doesn't work the way you’d hoped. Her eyes focus on the bruised mark on your neck; you had completely forgotten about it. You slap your hand over it out of instinct but there’s no hiding the truth. 

“No, he didn’t, Ma, he didn’t,” you plead desperately. You can feel the tightness in your throat when you realize she doesn’t believe you. Her face drops, saddens deeply. Her eyes go dark and well with tears. Her jaw falls open as if to ask you what he did, to portray that she is curious but simultaneously would rather hear anything over what Arthur might have done with you. Done to you. You feel your lip tremble. Something within you shrivels in dread. Heat crawls up your body, feeling clammy and warm all at once. 

“Please, don’t, don’t tell Pa,” The pace of your heart picks up, standing up clumsily. Her hand comes to her mouth, shaking her head as tears drip down her face. “He could kill him, please,” You beg her and she refuses, rushing out. You go to stop her as she slams the door open to confront him. 

Try as you might, you can't reach her in time. She sees Arthur, stomping towards him. 

“What did you do to her?! You tell me-” Your father is confused, grabbing your mother. You’re an animal, frozen in the stare of a predator. You can see Arthur's face become severe, his glare fixed on you. His brows pinch and his mouth is set in a hard line. It’s the angriest you’ve ever seen him. His posture adjusts into something more threatening, readying his body for whatever comes next. His features pull into an unnaturally cool expression. Then he’s grabbing you, turning you quickly. Your back is pressed against his chest before you can protest, can even think of trying to run. 

His arm is iron over your chest and neck. You grab onto it as you lose your balance, relying on him to keep you upright. You gasp and scramble, going completely still when you hear the sound, the slide of metal on leather. His pearl handled revolver is leveled upward towards your family. The whole cabin goes quiet, your mother’s blustering screams and your father’s confused babbling falling like rocks into a lake. An eerie silence descends over you. 

All you can hear is the sting of the quiet and your own breathing, the smallest shift of Arthur’s boot scraping the wooden floor. “Arthur, please, no,” You whine, wiggling just a bit. The last thing you want is to provoke him into squeezing the trigger. His finger is pressed up against it, ready for anything. He bows his head to whisper a bone chilling ‘shh’ in your ear. It makes the smallest hairs of yours stand on end, your heart dropping into your gut. Terror keeps you stuck to him.

“Think you've gone and said too much already, darlin’” you can hear the mocking humor dripping from his words, the usually affectionate term for you has a sharp edge. His voice, so low and venomous, right in your ear makes you shiver. You swallow slowly, fear courses through your veins. Unwillingly, your thoughts float to Arthur holding his gun to that thief, his flippant manner of taking lives. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that whatever happens here doesn’t end in blood. 

OK! sorry for the cliffhanger but i couldnt say no to spicing things up, lol. evil arthur being a meanie 😈 arthur being a grumpy driver is everything to me, what i would do to wake up to arthur saying good morning sunshine to me.. 😳lh arthur or not hes a cornball LMAO lemme know what you guys think i would love to hear it 😳😭💖tysm for reading !!

Series Masterlist

[focusfixated]

fic rec: ted lasso

all the men and women merely players

rating: T // fandom: ted lasso // pairings: ted x trent, keeley x roy x jamie, nate x jade // length: 50.7k author: @laiqualaurelote tags: theatre, shakespeare, post-apocalypse

"So let me get this straight. You, an American whose career highlights consisted mainly of appearing on Saturday Night Live, decide in the wake of the apocalypse to lead a touring Shakespeare company across the ruins of England." "Oh, I know. Heck, I said as much to Rebecca when she suggested it. I said, 'You could fill two Internets with what I don’t know about directing Shakespeare.' And she said, 'Ted, the Internet doesn’t exist any more.'" Trent Crimm meets Ted Lasso by chance at a Shakespeare play. Five years and the end of the world later, they meet again at another. A Station Eleven post-apocalyptic theatre AU (no knowledge of Station Eleven necessary to read).

rec notes:

a post-apocalyptic ted lasso AU where the richmond players are a troupe of travelling shakespearean actors.

simply one of the best things i've read in a long time. it SO perfectly operates within its genre, one of those beautiful pieces of cross-referential AU fanfic, where there is both a deeply thoughtful blending of references, a wonderfully precise understanding of the characters from the original media, and highly-detailed worldbuilding of its own.

the author nails every character's cadence, the variety of voices, their styles of conversation. the descriptive narrative, is also excellent. achingly poetic, there is so much beauty, and so much compelling, grim horror, too. the happy moments are threaded with plenty of intense, sharply sad moments, but there is so much joy, such hope. it's an ode to art, and friendship, and community.

i had such an amazing time reading this story. it's such a brilliant idea, and its execution lives up to the concept. the amount of detail, research, reference, is evident in every chapter. and it's a wonderful tribute to the show, while also giving such a satisfying conclusion to so many story arcs that were left a little underserved in the series finale.

[purplepersonwombatartisan]

Un antes y un después<3

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name: Masterlist

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Main story: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve

Side stories: one, two, three

[laiqualaurelote]

chapter fourteen - be not afeard; the isle is full of noises

Ted is standing in the sea. He has rolled his pants to his knees and the water laps cold against his calves. He is gazing at the horizon. If he could he would strain his eyes to see the other side of the sea, to look across space and time at another life, another Ted Lasso, who was husband and father and son. But it is on these shores that he has washed up, like a seaworn shell with something rank hidden in its whorls. “Full fathom five thy father lies,” he says to himself, “and thy son i’ th’ ooze is bedded.” Ted knows he is being watched. This is something he is used to. He has been watched all his life, and he has performed constantly for that audience. What he is still getting used to is that there are some people you don’t have to perform for.  “Hey, Trent,” he says without turning around.

The Station Eleven post-apocalyptic theatre AU in which American comedy actor Ted Lasso, in the wake of a worldwide pandemic, winds up leading a Shakespearean theatre troupe through the ruins of England (no knowledge of Station Eleven necessary to read).

Almost there! One epilogue left.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy

Rating: Explicit Chapters: 12/25, part 1 of 3 Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong, Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve- Bastard on the Burning Sea

Before him was King’s Landing. The Red Keep high atop Aegon’s Hill was a monument of epic proportions, bright as a beacon compared to the dark stone that made up the fortress of Dragonstone. Gulls cried and flew across the water, the bay teaming with ships heading out to sea and trade ships bearing banners of Pentos and Lys, of Braavos and even a dark ship from Asshai coming in to drop off their trade. Behind him, the crew of Laena’s Song hollered to and fro, preparing to drop anchor. His stomach knotted uncomfortably with nerves and he rolled his shoulders beneath the bleached linen of his shirt. His black and red jerkin was tossed negligently over a barrel and Jace looked over his shoulder at the sailors moving across deck and wished he could simply stay rather than step back on land. Or better yet he could take to the sky. Vermax let out another shriek and dove towards the wave to scoop up a mouthful of fish, dodging past Moondancer’s attempt to steal them. His jade scales covered in gold markings gleamed and glimmered in the sunlight like a gem, like the jade that his mother called him. Little jadeling. His lavender eyes were drawn behind him in the direction of Dragonstone, too far for him to see, and too far to relieve the ache of homesickness in his chest.

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