#STOP GOONING AND GO OUTSIDE AND FIND YOURSELF

[sharkfund]

FUCK oneyredacted we all HATE oneyredacted

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Yes please! Part 2 of the brothel scene

This is part 2 of this request

Red hair is mentioned as she is to have a resemblance to Alicent…to go with Aemond’s mommy issues

Warnings: Aegon being a bully

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’You would take me on your dragon?’’ 

Aemond nodded. You were the part of his day he looked forward to when he woke up. If the war came to a point where he had to flee, he would take you with him. 

‘’I would take you somewhere safe. Maybe Essos? Have you ever been to Essos?’’

You shook your head, your red hair splayed on the pillows. Smallfolk like you never travel, especially across the Narrow Sea. ‘’I have not.’’ 

‘’Neither have I, unfortunately, Aemond said. I’ve been told it is quite beautiful though.’’ He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, slightly red from your last kiss. He moved a strand of hair out of your face to get a clear view of your expression. His gaze roamed over your face, studying your features as if he was trying to commit every inch to memory. ‘’But not as beautiful as you.’’ 

You blushed a deep shade of red at the prince's words. You were surprised, though not at all opposed to this soft and less guarded side of him.

He slipped closed to you, his lips finding their way to your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down the sensitive skin. You let out a soft moan as Aemond's lips made contact with your skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself relaxing into his arms. You tangled your fingers in his silver hair, pulling him closer. 

Suddenly, the curtain was pulled open, taking away the privacy and exposing you and Aemond to the eyes of the King and his goons. A laugh snapped Aemond from the kisses he was giving you and turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Aegon — drunk — with four young knights. His laughter continued, but no one joined in the amusement. 

Aemond quickly shifted away from you, settling into a sitting position. He was silent, waiting for Aegon to make some crude comment or laugh at his expense.

You covered yourself with the fabric of your dress, pulling it up over your chest. Although you were used to being naked in front of people, you didn’t feel comfortable under the King’s eyes. 

‘’Aemond the fierce!’’ Aegon mocked in an inebriated tone, pointing at his younger brother. He stepped in the room, his balance a little off, and sat on the bed to further taunt Aemond. ‘’You’ve come so far, and…and yet you still lie with a woman from a pleasure house. You could have anyone from a noble house, but you come here and fuck the cheapest whores.’’ 

The younger Targaryen was not responding, choosing to stay silent. You thought it was a tactic to make Aegon stop, but you realized that this was Aemond accepting his fate and letting Aegon make fun of him during a vulnerable moment. 

‘’Did you fuck her like a hound?’’ Aegon laughed again, then made barking noises. 

The sound made you jump slightly, coming a few inches from your ear. You had never been more uncomfortable and disgusted since you started working here. The sympathy you had for the King when he lost his little son evaporated when you saw he was still the cruel brat who enjoyed tormenting his younger brother. 

You glanced at Aemond, who had not moved a hair from where he sat. He inhaled slowly to calm himself, knowing once Aegon found something to pick at, he never stopped until he was satisfied. You wanted to tell Aegon to leave, for he was making your customer uncomfortable, but he was the King. Any words against him could get you in trouble, or killed.

The King turned to the knights, who were still standing outside the ‘door’, visibly uncomfortable. 

‘’You see, I do not exaggerate such are the whores’ prowesses that even now my brother comes back for them. This one is a fine whore; sweet lips and great tits.’’ Aegon pulled your dress from you, showing off your breasts to his friends. He grabbed one roughly, pinching your nipple just for fun. ‘’Ah, yes, that’s great tits!’’ He looked at his friends again. ‘’Her cunny might be a little loose, after all the cocks who got in but she’s still good to fuck.‘’

This specific comment made Aemond's jaw tighten. God, he wanted to punch Aegon.

For a short second, you thought Aemond would defend you, but he did not. 

Instead, he stood on the bed and faced the knights. ‘’Your squire is welcome to use her as he pleases. One whore is as good as another,’’ he said before stepping down the bed and walking away, not bothering to get his clothes. 

His words stung your heart. You didn’t think Aemond would say that about you. Not after all the time you spent together, getting to know each other. Not after the promise he just made you. You thought there was something between you. But maybe you interpreted your relationship wrong.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice  @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios  @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen  @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry

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[gilbertscurls]

Consume ➵ Matt Sturniolo

synopsis: you finds yourself at a crowded party, but your mind is fixated on matt, the steady presence in your life who's recently stirred unfamiliar feelings within you.

The music pulsed through the crowded room, the bass reverberating in your chest as you weaved your way through the party. Neon lights flickered above, casting everyone in a hazy glow of reds and blues. You spotted Matt leaning against the bar, his head tilted back slightly as he took a long sip of his drink. His dark hair fell messily across his forehead, and his signature cool, effortless demeanor was as present as ever.

You weren’t sure when it had started—this unshakable pull toward him. He was always a constant in her life, the steady friend, the one who never let emotions show too clearly. But recently, every time you were in the same room, it was like a magnetic force pulled you closer, making your stomach twist with a kind of nervous energy you weren’t used to.

And now, with the low lights casting shadows across his sharp features and his black jacket hugging his frame just right, that pull was undeniable. You couldn’t help it. You were drawn to him, maybe even consumed by him.

“Y/N!” a voice called out from behind you, snapping you from your daze. You turned to see Chris and Nick waving her over.

“Hey guys,” you greeted, though your eyes flickered back to Matt. Chris followed your gaze, smirking.

“Can’t stop staring at our boy, huh?” Chris teased, nudging your shoulder. “I see the way you look at him.”

You shot him a warning glance, your face growing hot. “Shut up.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He always knew when to stay out of things. But Chris? Not so much.

Before you could say anything else, Chris gave you a knowing grin and strolled toward the bar, Nick trailing behind him. That left you standing awkwardly a few feet away from Matt, your heart pounding harder than it should have been. You were about to walk over when, suddenly, he turned and met your gaze.

The air between you seemed to thicken instantly, the noise of the party fading to a distant hum. His dark eyes held yours, steady and unreadable, but something in his expression flickered. He motioned you over, and without thinking, you obeyed, your feet carrying you to him before your brain could catch up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the music. “You good?”

You nodded, though you didn’t feel good. You felt out of control, your body reacting to his presence in ways that made you feel dizzy. You caught the slight downturn of his lips, a look of concern flashing across his face.

“You seem… Off tonight.”

You wanted to laugh at that. Off? If only he knew. You were so far from “off,” you didn’t know how to describe it. Instead of explaining yourself, though, you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the weight of his attention. It was suffocating but also addictive, like you couldn’t get enough. Before you realized what was happening, Matt set his drink down and leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper in your ear.

“Come outside with me.”

It wasn’t a question, more like a statement, and you didn’t hesitate to follow him as he made his way through the crowd. You both stepped out into the crisp night air, the streetlights casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The party still raged inside, but out here, it was just the two of you.

Matt turned to face you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you just stood there, the city lights glowing softly around you. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling the chill, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft now, almost hesitant. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and the simple touch sent a shock through your system. “You don’t have to act like nothing’s going on. I see it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “See what?”

He stepped closer, his hand lingering near your cheek. “This… Thing between us.”

You opened her mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat. Of course, he’d noticed. How could he not? It had been building for months, this undeniable tension, this pull that had you thinking about him constantly.

“You can feel it too, right?” His voice was low, his eyes locked on yours, and the intensity in his gaze was overwhelming.

You nodded, unable to deny it anymore.

He closed the distance between them, his hand now cupping your cheek. “It’s been driving me crazy,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I see you…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. You knew exactly what he meant because you felt it too—the constant, maddening thoughts of him that had been consuming you for weeks.

Before you could respond, Matt’s lips brushed against yours, softly at first, almost like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, his hands slipping around your waist and pulling you closer.

It was intoxicating, the way his touch sent sparks through you, the way the world seemed to fall away. You kissed him back with a kind of urgency that surprised you, like you’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

But as much as you wanted this, as much as you craved him, there was a part of you that knew this was dangerous. There was something dark about it, something that felt like it would consume you if you let it.

You broke the kiss, stepping back slightly, your breathing ragged. “Matt…”

“I know,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes still filled with that same burning intensity. “I know this is complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you whispered, your heart racing. “What if… What if we ruin everything?”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening. “Maybe we will,” he admitted. “But maybe… Maybe it’s worth it.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. This was Matt—your steady, reliable Matt. But the way he was looking at you now, the way he had kissed you, it felt different. Dangerous. Like stepping off a cliff and not knowing where you would land.

But maybe, just maybe, you didn’t care.

You reached for him again, pulling him back into your arms. If this was going to consume you, you might as well fall headfirst into it.

And as his lips met yours again, all thoughts of caution melted away, leaving nothing but the raw, electric energy between you.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom

[dirtyvulture]

Darkest Knight - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You meet a pretty woman in a bar...

Word count: 4954

AN: Click here for Part 1!

Thanks to everyone who read and interacted with Part 1. Things get a little wild in this one...

“I should have never come here,” Natasha cries. “You don’t deserve this, after everything you’ve done for me–”

“I can help you,” you insist. “Please, Nat. Just tell me who they are–”

She looks up at you, and even in the darkness the fear in her eyes is unmissable.

“The Red Room.”

The words send physical shivers down your spine. They weren’t ones you had expected to ever hear again, and you were shocked that this woman knew of its existence, let alone escaped. Now, you can fully sympathize with and understand her fear.

“Put your shoes on. We’ll go out the back door. Hurry.” You speak in short but commanding sentences, directing Natasha into the kitchen. The pounding on the door escalates to heavy, inconsistent thuds, and you know the “officers” are using their battering ram now. Luckily, you had assembled this cabin yourself, board by board, with the door built of solid oak, so that would buy you some precious time.

You stop at the freezer to grab a plastic bag that Natasha doesn’t even look at. She’s staring at the back door, practically shaking with fear, and anger fills you so suddenly you can’t see. But you can’t slip into one of your rages now, not with Natasha being in such close proximity and having no idea what you’re actually capable of. If she knew who you really were, what you were, she’d run happily into the Red Room goons’ arms and beg them to take her away from you. 

On the other side of the back door, you hear the crunch of boots on fresh snow, the anxious heartbeats, and the pump of a shotgun.

You don’t have any time to warn Natasha before you jump in front of her, shielding her body with yours just in time as a round of buckshot blasts through the door into your chest. The pain is like an explosion that takes your breath away, but luckily darkness engulfs you before it becomes overbearing.

Natasha screams when your weight falls back into her. You are ridiculously, unexpectedly heavy, almost pinning her down, but she manages to scramble back in time, leaving you to thud onto the floor. She stares at your body in shock, where lead pellets are buried in your chest, blood seeping out to soak your layers of shirts. Natasha instinctively gravitates for you, trying to find an area to apply pressure so she can slow the bleeding. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” she whimpers, ignoring the fist punching through the weakened door and opening the lock from the outside. 

“Hey, I found her!”

“And you took out the other one!”

“Natalia…” someone says in a mocking voice. “Natalia, come home to us…”

Natasha’s head snaps up and adrenaline fills her veins as she blindly launches herself at the soldier who killed you. She tears the shotgun out of his hands and clubs him on the head with it, knocking him down and smashing the butt into his helmet’s face shield until it cracks. She hasn’t felt fury like this in a while, putting her in an almost euphoric state, but her focus is a concentrated pinpoint, and she doesn’t see the second soldier behind her pointing a gun at her head.

“RAHHHHH!” 

Natasha ducks, wondering if someone let a large animal into your home. She catches a flash of silver as the muzzle of the soldier’s gun falls harmlessly to the floor as if sliced right off. You’re back on your feet all of a sudden, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl, three silver, knife-like claws protruding from your knuckles. You slash at the soldier, tearing through his body armor effortlessly and puncturing his heart. He crumples next to his partner, who’s shaking in complete terror while crawling away from you.

“Don’t look, Nat,” you growl and she turns away, flinching when she hears the man’s cut off scream. She jumps when you grab her shoulder, afraid that she’ll find herself on the other end of your knives, but you shake her gently. When she looks at you, your knives are gone and so are the buckshot holes in your chest. 

“How are you–What did you–” Natasha stammers.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking a step back from her when you sense her overwhelming levels of stress. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.���

Natasha slips her hand into her pocket, where your stolen pocket knife is. It would be like trying to fight you off with a toothpick, but Natasha Romanoff wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

“Nat, please. We can get away on my motorcycle. Come on.”

You’ve made no move to hurt her, keeping your hands where she can see them. Even though you had turned the Red Room soldiers into shish kabobs, you hadn’t let them suffer, taking them down with deadly accuracy and efficiency. Deep down, Natasha knows she can trust you, but her body is having a very resistant physical reaction to going with you. After all, anyone’s natural instinct would be to run very fast and far from away from a person who literally came back from the dead and mowed down two grown men with knives built into their arms. 

“Nat?” you prompt a final time, not sure what you’re going to do if she refuses to go with you. 

“Okay,” she says, wringing her hands together frantically. “I trust you.” 

It means more than you can explain that she’s put her faith in you and you lead her out of the bloodied kitchen. You race to the shed, where you tear off the padlock with your bare hands. There’s only one helmet, which you clasp around Natasha’s head. You throw one leg over the seat of your motorcycle and it sinks considerably under your weight. Natasha slides on behind you, wrapping her arms around your muscular torso, unable to resist the waves of body heat coming off of you.

She hardly notices the blistering wind as you take off into the forest, somehow finding your way around trees and rocks despite keeping the headlights off. Her fingers are clenched, almost frozen, to the plastic bag you had made such an effort to retrieve from the freezer. She has no interest in its contents now, clinging to you desperately and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opens them she’ll wake up from this nightmare.

You eventually turn the motorcycle onto a road and careen on. 

*********************************************************************** It’s probably not the wisest idea to stop at a motel, but you’re certain Natasha is still exhausted from the long night that’s not over, and you need some time to collect yourself. You park your motorcycle in the dirt lot and shake Natasha awake.

“We’ll stay here for a few hours, then keep moving,” you say, gently prying the plastic bag from her. Her hands are freezing and you feel awful for not taking care of her better. 

“But the men…they could catch up–”

“You need to get proper rest,” you interrupt. You’re not sure how many hours she had been awake before she met you at the bar, and while she’d already been looking better after dinner, you didn’t want to push her.

“This is too dangerous–” Natasha protests.

“They know you’re with me,” you say, and this quiets her. “So they’ll need to come up with a new plan if they want you.” You untwist the plastic bag, pulling out a soggy wad of cash. Her eyes grow wide. “This should keep us covered for a few days.” Then, you notice the rusty red splotches of dried blood splattered across your shirt. If you walk up to the front desk like this, the manager would call the cops. “Uh…shit.”

“Here.” Natasha takes her jacket off, despite your protests for her to keep it on, and she wraps the sleeves around your shoulders, carefully draping them in a way that hides the blood splatter. She fights back a visible shiver. “Much better.”

“Thanks. Let’s go quick,” you say, herding her into the tiny front office that barely fits the two of you side-by-side. “Two rooms,” you tell the pimply boy behind the dusty desk who smells like energy drinks and weed. 

“Huh?” he responds, blinking slowly at you.

“Two rooms. Please,” you say through your teeth, pulling out a few bills to show your commitment.

A long pause as you stare each other down.

“Uh, yeah we don’t have two rooms,” the boy says. “Just one–”

“That’s fine, then,” Natasha intervenes, as you can consider hefting the kid over your shoulder and dragging him out to the dumpster around the corner. “We’ll take whatever you have left.”

“Sure.”

You reluctantly hand over the deposit and he disappears into the back room to find the keys. Mumbling under your breath about the lack of hiring standards, you rub absently at your chest and Natasha looks at you in concern.

“You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” You drop your hand back to your side. “Probably gonna cough up some buckshot later, to be honest.”

Natasha doesn’t know if she should laugh or leave. “How did you…” she trails off, searching for the right words.

“Heal so fast?” you supply. “Always have. I was literally just…born that way.”

“And the…” Natasha gestures to her own hands and forearms. 

“Claws?” you finish. “Been with me since the beginning, too.” Your answers are vague, almost useless in the new number of questions they spark, but Natasha knows now is not the time. The boy finally returns with a key hooked to rabbit’s foot, which you accept with a very judgemental scowl, but are very glad to finally be on your way to some privacy for the night.

***********************************************************************

Natasha startles awake, trying to piece together the traumatic memories of the past eight hours into a coherent storyline. She’s alone in the motel room, her anxiety skyrocketing at the thought that you might have ditched her, when the door creaks open and you step back in. You’re wearing new clothes and holding a crumpled white bag stained with grease. 

“Did you sleep okay?” you grunt, tossing the bag onto the bed by her feet. “I got you some breakfast. It’s probably shit, but everything else nearby is closed.”

“Thanks.” Natasha reaches for the bag, despite having almost no appetite. She takes out one of the sandwiches, but can’t bring herself to take a bite. “Y/N, I think we need to get moving again. We’ve hung around for too long–”

“Eat your damn sandwich, then we’ll leave,” you gruff, and it’s almost endearing to Natasha how grumpy and thoughtful you can be at the same time. “But you know, we can’t keep running forever.”

“We can run far enough,” she insists. You don’t respond and Natasha realizes you’re waiting for her to take a bite of her egg and sausage sandwich. Fighting back a smile of amusement, she nibbles off the edge of the dry muffin and you nod in satisfaction. 

“Look Nat, I want to help you. You know that, right? But I’m…familiar…with these Red Room goons and–” Her eyebrows shoot up as she keeps chewing. “That’s another story for another day.”

“Did you escape from them, too?” Natasha asks, her eyes wide. 

“Well, not exactly. But I know who they are. What they are. And what they do to women like you.”

Natasha tenses suddenly, sensing judgment from you. She’s ready to defend herself, that she didn’t let them break her or keep her hostage, when you add, “They should be burned to the ground. Just a bunch of psychopathic perverts.” She laughs out loud, startling you because you weren’t even trying to make a joke, but you let out a snort. 

“But they’re a damn smart bunch of perverts,” you continue. “And you know we can’t take them alone. I have some old friends that can help us. I’ll take you to them.”

“More old friends? Like the one who’s clothes I’m wearing?” Natasha says, wanting to join in on the lighter mood, but she immediately regrets so when she sees the sadness cloud your face.

“Not like that,” you murmur. “She would’ve helped us, though. But she’s gone now, so…”

Natasha doesn’t know what to say, guilt gnawing at her stomach for making such an unnecessary joke.

“They’re in New York. It’s been a while since I last saw them, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us stopping by,” you say to break the silence. “They’d help us without question.”

“Even against…the Red Room?”

“They’d have those Red Room schmucks for breakfast,” you chortle, the mood lightening once more. The knot in Natasha’s stomach loosens, and she takes another bite of the sandwich. “But it’s gonna take us a while to get there. And we’ll probably need a car…”

“I’ll handle it,” Natasha volunteers.

You look at her with a raised eyebrow, challenging but curious. “Okay. We’ll go when you’re done eating.”

***********************************************************************

While you clear out the motel room of all your tracks, Natasha triumphantly returns with the keys to a large blue Ram truck. You’re sad to leave your motorcycle behind, but it’s served you well, so you take it for one final ride to a strip mall, Natasha following in her menacing blue truck. You park in a shaded corner, saying good-bye with a caress to the faded leather seat, then join Natasha in the truck. 

With good weather and little traffic, the drive would take about 40 hours. And even though you’d be able to make the entire drive yourself with minimal stops, Natasha won’t let you. It’s a long first day, stopping for more junk food and bathroom breaks. You buy a phone from a gas station to text your contact in Westchester, and in the few responses you share, they seem eager for your arrival despite your circumstances. 

Another night is spent at a shoddy motel, and this time you don’t automatically ask for separate rooms. Natasha seems comfortable in your presence–tolerant, at the very least–and you’re starting to enjoy her company too. She keeps to herself for the most part and even though you can feel her studying you sometimes, she doesn’t ask anything inappropriate. She also tries to take care of you, though you think of yourself as the last person who needs it, but it’s cute how she picks up on your favorite gas station snacks (the jerky and Snickers bars) and buys you extra packets behind your back, and she offers to drive almost every time the two of you get back into the truck.

So on the third and final day of your trip, when Natasha begs to make a stop at a mall in Ohio, you agree, mostly because you know how happy it will make her. While the mall itself is disappointingly unimpressive, Natasha has the biggest smile as she drags you around under the pretense that she wants to find some clothing that wasn’t bought from a gas station, but she tries to browse every store, commenting which retailers have taken the old spots of familiar locations from her childhood. 

“Try this one on,” Natasha says, thrusting yet another checkered flannel shirt at you.

“They all look the same,” you grumble, feeling that you may be colorblind because you can’t tell what’s different about the prior three she’s made you try. 

“No, this one goes better with your eyes,” she says, her cheeks suddenly turning red when she realizes what she’s said.

You grin at her. “Then I’ll buy this one.”

You proudly wear the shirt out of the store, sneaking a glance to see Natasha’s expression and she does seem even more excited than when you first arrived at the mall. For lunch, you stop in the food court, and while you’re wolfing down a triple-patty burger with frightening intensity, Natasha suddenly reaches across the table and grabs your hand.

“What?” You stop mid-bite.

“Behind you,” she hisses.

Wiping grease off your chin, you drop your shoulder and turn your head subtly. But you know immediately who Natasha’s referring to. A woman with long black hair tied into an immaculate ponytail, not a single stray hair flying about, wearing a black overcoat and gloves, strides towards the food court with purposeful, powerful steps. You recognize her posture, her outfit, and the cold, emotionless expression on her face. 

“Holy shit,” you mumble. “They sent a Widow after us.” 

“We have to go!” Natasha tries yanking up but she isn’t strong enough. “How do you think she found us?”

“They’ve probably been tracking us the whole time,” you say, sad to leave the remainder of your meal. “They were just waiting for the right time to strike.” It’s hard to walk fast without making it obvious that you’re running from someone. You offer Natasha your hand and she takes it without hesitation. You drag her along a little, urging her without words. “It’ll be fine, Nat. We’ll take care of her and keep moving.”

“We shouldn’t have stopped here. This was all my stupid idea,” she says. 

“It wasn’t a stupid idea. I liked it.”

If the two of you weren’t running from a Widow, Natasha would have stopped and hugged you. Although she hasn’t known you for more than four days, she feels completely safe with you and has a deep admiration for you. You’ve never prodded about her past, you’ve never judged from where she came from. While you’re not such an open book yourself, Natasha can see how much you’ve relaxed around her from your first meeting. She likes your calmness, your willingness to drop literally everything in your life for her, with no expectation of anything in return. She’s never met someone like you before but hopes that you’ll let her stay around even after this mess is cleaned up. 

“Go this way,” you say, nudging Natasha into a maintenance corridor, having seen a sign for roof access on one of the walls. At least you could take care of the Widow without worrying about innocent casualties–assuming there weren’t more hiding up there. “Take the stairs,” you instruct Natasha, pushing her into the stairwell.

“I hope you don’t expect me to jump from the roof,” she replies.

“Well, if we have to, I’ll jump first and catch you,” you quip, but there is no time for her to linger on your comment. She dashes up the three flights of stairs with lightning speed, while you lumber up behind her.

“The door’s locked,” she says, stopping in her tracks.

“Move.” Your middle claw rips out of your hand and you slide it between the jamb and wall to cut the lock. Throwing your weight against the door, it pops open easily and you stumble out into the unusually bright outside. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Just hide somewhere and wait.”

Natasha is skeptical of your plans, not wanting to be caught in a dead end with another Widow, but she hurries towards an air conditioning unit. When she turns around, she sees you’re not following her and are facing the roof access door, your claws sliding out as the Widow makes her appearance, now wearing a gas mask.

“Y/N!” Natasha screams with no other way to stop you.

The Widow tosses a metal canister that immediately releases a thick, white fog. It hides the Widow and worse, burns your eyes until they water and destroys your sense of smell with a piercing, peppery odor.

“Shit.” You drop onto your belly, searching for a breathable pocket of air. You hear another canister clang to the ground, spreading the white fog farther and farther. As you crawl to where you think Natasha is taking cover, the unmistakable pops of gunfire ring through your skull. 

Your sense of sight, smell, and now sound are completely unreliable and fear ices your veins as you think about Natasha’s safety. But she’s also a Widow herself, so you’ll have to trust that she can handle herself while you figure out the way to her. You force yourself up, wiping snot on the sleeves of your new flannel and hunkering down, focusing hard to feel the vibrations of movement on the roof. You pivot left, inching forward cautiously. The faint click of a rifle trigger alerts you and you lash out with your claws, slicing uselessly through the fog. But it was nothing but a ruse, as the Widow comes up behind you and stabs you in the neck with a pronged instrument that sends hundreds of volts of electricity through your body. Your muscles seize and you collapse to the ground, seizing uncontrollably.

You’re pretty sure you’ve bitten your tongue off as blood fills your mouth and you start choking, unable to roll to your side to cough it out. The Widow points the muzzle of her at your face, pressing the cold metal tip to your forehead. You bare your teeth in a vicious snarl, wishing you could will control back into your body to slash her throat out.

“Good night, mutt,” the Widow says. 

***********************************************************************

Natasha tucks her mouth and nose into her elbow, charging into the fog while wielding the tiny pocket knife she stole from your apartment. She tackles the Widow with her full bodyweight, puncturing the blade through her vest deep enough that the Widow screams, dropping her gun.  Knocking off the Widow’s mask and pulling her into a tight headlock, Natasha squeezes her arms as tight as she can, counting the number of seconds it takes before the assassin finally stops struggling and slumps to the ground. With watering eyes from the gas, Natasha strips the Widow of her equipment, despite knowing that at her peak, her bare hands would be deadly enough weapons. The gas starts to spread further and further and Natasha can finally see your convulsing body. 

She runs over to you, tentatively yanking the taser out of your neck. You take a huge breath of air, rolling to your side and coughing hard. 

“Thanks,” you mutter as your tongue grows back. Shakily you get to your feet, touching the side of your neck and feeling the jagged openings left by the taser slowly closing. “Where is she? I’m gonna–”

“No. Let’s go,” Natasha intervenes, grabbing onto a handful of your shirt to stop you, like you’re a dog on a leash. You push her away, stomping over to where the Widow is lying motionless. Your claws pop out. She won’t feel anything. 

“Y/N, STOP!” Natasha yells and you freeze, turning to glare at her. 

“They sent her to kill us,” you seethe.

“But she’s not herself,” Natasha begs. “She’s being controlled. You know that. Please don’t kill her. She was just…She was just following orders.”

You clench your fist, the muscles in your forearm rippling as you retract your claws. Natasha gulps and takes a visible step back from you. She’s never seen such rage in your features before, not that it would be unwarranted, but it almost seems like you’re on the verge of completely losing control. Your expression twitches when you smell the fear rolling off Natasha in waves. She’s not afraid of the Widow anymore. She’s afraid of you. 

“Fine. Sorry,” you grunt, backing up. You want to put your claws down your throat for scaring her like this. Your whole life you had fought to convince everyone that you were more than the animal you were born to be. It always felt like a losing battle. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Natasha says. “I said something that upset you.”

“Is that mine?” You’re suddenly distracted by the sight of a small knife poking out of the Widow’s side.

“Uh…” Natasha glances at you sheepishly. “I thought it would come in handy eventually.”

“Hmm.” You don’t dwell on it though, having other things to worry about. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

The parking lot is a jumbled mess as people hurry to leave as emergency vehicles enter the premises. You keep your head down, hoping you’re moving fast enough for no one to notice the few stains of blood on your collar. Natasha races to keep pace with you. She’s barely able to jump into the truck in time before you have it in drive, speeding out of the parking lot. 

“Thank you,” Natasha finally whispers as you merge onto the highway.

“For what?” you grunt, your knuckles clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

“For not killing her.”

You make another grunting noise.

“You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“It’s not about what she deserves,” you snarl. “She was there to kill me and take you back to the Red Room. Which she failed to do. So if anything, the Red Room will probably kill her–”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Natasha interjects. “The Widows are huge investments. That’s why they want me alive.”

“Well, they don’t really seem to care if you get in their crosshairs of trying to kill me.” You don’t like how your words come out, but it’s too late to take them back now. You know none of this is Natasha’s fault–you were the one who willingly came to her aid, who insisted on driving her across the country, who offered your own friends to help. 

“You don’t deserve this either.” Natasha’s voice drops. She sounds small, and when you side-eye her, she’s curled up in her seat in a way that makes her look small too. You frown. “You were just trying to be a decent person, and now you’ve had your life threatened several times, you had to leave your home, you’re being chased across the country–”

“Stop it,” you interrupt. “If this is the consequences of my actions, then so be it. I’d do it again a thousand times for you. Because you’re worth it.”

“I am?” Natasha looks at you in disbelief, partially because this is the most emotional she’s ever heard you and partially because she wonders if this is you admitting you have feelings for her.

“Yes,” you confirm, giving her a slight smirk before focusing on the road. 

***********************************************************************

The final stretch of the drive is rough, but you make it. It’s nighttime now and exhaustion weighs on your shoulders from the entire day’s events. You shake Natasha awake as you park on the driveway.

“We’re here,” you say, cutting the lights and turning off the engine. Natasha gets out of the car, gaping at the enormous mansion you’ve stopped in front of. As you walk with her up to the front door, she stops to read the plaque.

“‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,’” she says. “Hang on, this place is a school? Why would you bring us here? You’re putting children in danger, Y/N–”

“Hold on,” you cut her off. “The kids and staff here? They’re just like me.”

“Just like you? Meaning–” Before Natasha can finish her sentence, the front doors swing open and a woman with spiky gray hair appears, throwing herself at you.

“Y/N!” she cries.

“Hey, Ororo,” you mumble, returning her hug with a little less passion. “Sorry to arrive so late. Ran into a little trouble earlier…”

“You made it safely and that’s all that matters.” She pats your shoulders affectionately. “Hi there. I’m Ororo,” the woman introduces herself to Natasha, awkwardly standing off to your side. “But the kids around here call me Storm.”

“I’m Natasha.”

“Please, come in. It’s freezing and I know you’ve both been on the road for days,” Ororo invites. “Your room is all prepped, Y/N.”

You hadn’t even thought to ask her for another guest room, but you have a feeling Natasha won’t mind sharing again. You gesture for her to enter the mansion first. She seems in awe, and a little overwhelmed, that this building had been converted into a boarding school. Maybe later you’ll take her to the basements to show her the other half of the school. 

A man wearing ruby sunglasses despite the midnight hour stands at the bottom of the staircase, a beautiful red-headed woman by his side.

“Jean,” you breathe, almost frozen in her presence.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jean says in a sultry voice that makes your heart beat embarrassingly faster. Natasha feels a prick of jealousy when she sees the way you’re looking at this new woman. 

“Y/N!” the man barks.

“Good to see you too, Scott,” you add, not noticing the way Natasha moves closer to you, almost brushing against your arm. “This is Nat. She’s been traveling with me for the past few days, and–”

“You’re the one who escaped the Red Room,” Scott says, and Natasha cringes.

“Yeah, she is,” you answer, annoyed by his tone of voice.

“And how do we know that we can trust her?” Scott asks.

“Because I trust her.”

There’s a pause while Scott accepts this answer. 

“I just finished heating dinner up for you two. It’s in the kitchen,” Ororo interrupts. She’s the only one thrilled to host guests, you think. 

“Thanks, Ro,” you say.

“Well now that you’re back, Y/N, we actually need a substitute P.E. teacher tomorrow morning,” Scott teases, his arm going around Jean’s waist. “How about filling in, for old time’s sake?”

You raise your arm, extending the middle claw only. Everyone howls in laughter.

“Put that away,” Ororo chastises. “Come and eat now, before the food goes cold.”

You and Natasha start walking after her, but you stop when you hear the whir of wheels, an older bald man zipping up to you in a wheelchair. 

“Professor,” you greet, for the first time taking the initiative to hug, leaning down to embrace him. “Thanks for helping us out. We really appreciate it.”

The man smiles, a twinkle in his eye. “Of course. Welcome back, Y/N.”

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

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Hopefully, going to the X-Men was a wise decision on R's part...

Let me know what you think. :) Please leave likes, comments, and reblogs.

[gamerwoman3d]

Please Be Bi-Han 🙏

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

You aren't supposed to be in this timeline.

And to you, this timeline shouldn't exist. But it does. And this timeline is particularly exploitable, given the things you know which no one else in this timeline does. You slip into the timeline and abuse your knowledge to unethically gain just enough wealth to live very, very comfortably. And you laugh because this timeline is literally just a game to you. Admittedly, you came here to try to seduce the hotties. But when you figured out just how easy it would be to game the financial system here, you did that.

Imagine not being shocked at all to see Liu Kang at your doorstep with his Lin Kuei goons. You could laugh. You know him. You know all three, no, all four of them; your attraction to them is what initially drew you to this timeline. The fourth you knew by smell alone; the campfire scent in the air proved that Smoke was with them, somewhere ready for action yet invisible to your eyes.

Imagine closing the door to your beautiful private mansion in their face before any of them even speak. Imagine bolting it, locking it, chaining it, only to tell them through the speaker, "Whoever breaks this door down and finds me first gets laid."

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

Now you, you have installed several small panic rooms throughout your mansion with which to play hide and seek. So you go do that, smirking to yourself as you watch the group through the security cam app on your phone. But back up a moment to just before these guys arrived.

Liu Kang smirked as he collected his warriors at the edge of a portal that would lead conveniently into a hidden driveway outside the privacy walls near your garden.

"I have a fun little mission for us today. Geras discovered someone manipulating the financial trajectory of our timeline that isn't supposed to be here. We need to go get them, and convince them to stop, without violence."

"Respectfully, Lord Liu Kang - If you don't need violence, why did you call us? If we can't stab it, it's most likely someone else's problem," Smoke said out of turn.

"There are other methods of coercion, Smoke. And if Geras' revelations for this mission are proven true, then methods of seduction are on the table," Liu Kang responded flatly.

Liu Kang wanted to laugh. The synchronized single-eyebrow raise of the three masked ninjas before him was too cartoonish to seem real.

Fast forward.

You get a good run, scrambling to your hiding place.

"I thought this might be the case," you hear Liu Kang say in your earbud, from audio played through the phone collected from the front door security recorder.

"Seduction really is the game this evening," Scorpion said, "even with you saying as much, I am still surprised."

"Are we making a competition of it? Or am I the only one that will be chasing after that cutie?" said Smoke from seemingly nowhere.

"Don't blow your cover, brother. We're not sure if we're being recorded. It could give us an advantage if you'd keep quiet," Sub-Zero said.

"It's a competition," Scorpion interjected before slamming his boot into the door, rattling it in it's frame.

A few kicks, body slams did nothing. Sub-Zero guided the others out of the way, froze the door handle in it's place, then pulled the mechanism - deadbolts and all - through the crystallized steel. He tossed it to the side and booted open the door, which swung freely and hit the interior wall with such force that one might have expected the crash to come from a vehicle accident.

You bounce in your place, trying not to giggle as you watch the men through your tablet. You had hoped Bi-Han would breech the door first, but now the men crept inside and began to hunt for you. You saw all except Smoke, just before the power went down, taking your security feed with it.

You were in the dark, now, lit only by the glow of a tablet that showed the wifi disconnected. You swiftly realized that Smoke must have gone to cut the power - and had the foresight to cut the backup power first.

Smart of him, you thought. But now, in the dark, there was nothing left to do but wait for one of them to discover your hiding spot. Every little noise you heard made your heart jump in anticipation of being caught.

"Please be Bi-Han, please be Bi-Han," you chanted in a whisper under your breath.

FOR PART TWO - LINKS BELOW POLL

...

And now I'll be a bit evil.

ADVENTURE TIME. C'MON GRAB -

Part 2a(i): Sub-Zero discovers F! Reader

Part 3a(i): Sub-Zero toys with F! Reader (to be read after part 2a(i)

Part 2b(i): Smoke discovers F! Reader

Part 2b(ii): Smoke discovers M! Reader

Part 3b(i): Smoke fucks F! Reader (to be read after part 2b(i)

[witchwrestler]

I Eat Boys

warnings // Jason being a creep but that's literally it

summary: 10 things I hate about you inspired little blurb bc I got bored

note: reblogs are appreciated and encouraged!! if you like this i will gladly do another part, this was v fun to write !!!

part 2

☆ 🎸 ☆

You'd always been what most in the small shoebox town of hawkins would call a "feminist bitch", and according to most of the men who ask you out as a joke in the hallways, you've been more rageful than usual. You had one boyfriend during your high-school career thus far. It was freshman year and the product of being told that if a boy was being mean to you, surely that means he likes you. It ended after four months, after his failed attempt at getting in your pants.

It took you much longer than you'd like to admit to heal from that fiasco, and when you had finally declared yourself happy again, you cut your hair short, bought a pair of doc martens you'd always wanted and decided you would swear men off for a while. Not to say they were even approaching you, it seems the moment you had grown into yourself and stopped caring, men wanted nothing to do with you.

That is, until a very cold and rainy saturday. You had gone to the record store across from family video to buy the new metallica 'master of puppets'. As per usual the music blaring from your beat up jeep was some form of loud aggressive feminist punk rock, and as you turned into the parking lot, what seemed like the entire hawkins cheer team parked next to you. Too fast you thought, their happy Duran Duran playing selves turned into four cheerleaders looking at you like you were deranged. You scowled back at them and walked into the record store.

You spotted the metallica immediately and walked over to the metal section.

Only you weren't the only one grabbing the cassette, right as you very nearly got your hands on it, a pair of silver-clad fingers snatched it. You looked up, shooting a glare at him. He had long curly brown hair, the sickest dio tour shirt on, a guitar pick hanging on a chain around his neck and chains hanging from his jeans. This is the first time you had felt almost upstaged by a man, you think to yourself before speaking. "I really thought I was the only one who liked metal in this shitty town, do I have competition now?" You say, leaning forward over the display separating you. He looked at you a moment, a smile on his face, "it would seem you do" you smile back at him, and grab another cassette from in front of you before walking to the front to pay.

As you leave you turn back around, finding him still standing at the metal section, his eyes meeting yours again. "I am jealous as hell of that dio shirt, by the way." You say, walking out to your car.

The rain had stopped but it was still chilly outside, so you pulled your brown leather jacket closer to keep warm. You hadn't noticed that someone was following behind you until they whistled at you. You turned on your heel, immediately angry. Jason carver and his raging case of dickface disease stood before you, walking towards you like he was entitled to you or something.

" Carver, if you don't walk away right now, I'll kick your sorry ass," you say, backing slowly towards your car and crossing your arms. "A girl? kick my ass? keep dreaming, hon." He says, inching towards you. "Look, I wouldn't mind a reason to hit you, but I doubt you're gonna wanna go tell your fucking goon squad that you got your ass beat by a woman, huh?" You say, nothing but a blank expression on your face. He gets too close for comfort, a hand brushing your thigh. "so you're a feisty one, hm?" he says, his hand now squeezing your thigh, your fist clenching at his touch. You let out a sarcastic laugh just to say, "Carver, I fucking eat boys like you for breakfast. You're all talk, no bite." a smirk paints his face as he pushes you onto the door of your car, "isn't that why you went to juvie, freak?" he says. Clearly, he thought that the freak bit would cut deep, but you weren't about to let someone like him get under your skin.

"Yeah." That wasn't true. You have never even been near a juvenile detention center. But your last straw had been pulled, and you would rather he be scared of you than have him actually figure you out. "And pathetic, mysoginistic, disrespectful boys like you were my favorite kind." You say, pushing him off of you. His eyes got big with fear, scrambling away as he ran to his car, eyes flicking to you nervously. You let out a sigh of relief "fucking, men." you mumbled under your breath, finishing the walk to your car.

☆

Little did you know, that head of curly hair and hands clad with silver, who grabbed the same album as you, had tried to catch up to you after you complimented his shirt. You hadn't noticed him watch your little scramble. And you hadn't noticed the smirk that grew on his face as he saw you scare carver off. And you didn't know that he had regretted not asking your name, and that now he feared he might never know it.

[youngstarfishphilosopher]

QUILTS AND STORIES

(PLATONIC) GOTHAM JERVIS TETCH X CHILD READER PT.2

" Bunny bunny bunny, your ears are funny: they're too big for you.

Bunny bunny bunny, though you're funny, everyone loves you."

Summary: After rescuing you from a failed escape attempt, Jervis reads you a bedtime story.

WARNINGS ⚠️: DARK FIC, YANDERE THEMES, HYPNOTISM, DELUSIONAL BEHAVIOR, IMPLIED PEDOPHILIA ( Not from Jervis), MURDER, GORE, SICKLY SWEET JERVIS

This story has a scene showing a description of blunt-force murder. Viewer discretion is advised

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

An: Gotham Jervis pt.2-Electric Boogaloo

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

It had been about a week and a half since you had been kidnapped by your next-door neighboor: Taken away from your family and to who knows where.

You weren't allowed to go outside. The only way would be if you snuck out.

You had done it successfully once before, and only once. And never agian since it didn't turn out well for you when you did.

It was dark when it happened, late at night. You were all alone and still in your new Pjs that Jervis had gotten you.

You were in an unfamiliar part of Gotham. A place that was known to be uch more dangerous than the area you lived in.You knew Jervis would be back home any second, so you ran to find someplace you could hide.

And just in time, too.

Not even a minute after you had hid behind a corner, you saw a van pull up to where your neighbor had been keeping you.

Jervis was expecting you to be in your new bed that you had been staying in. And why wouldn't he? It's what you had been instructed to do, and you had been following his instructions all week.

As you watched Jervis walk inside with a few of his goons, you waited for a moment to make sure they were gone. Then, you quickly hurried down the nearest ally.

This was a bad idea.

" Why Heya there, kid . . ." You froze as a figure walked out of the darkness. He was a rather tall and big man you had never met before. " You lost or something? I can help you. "

The man didn't seem at all friendly; a crooked smile holding malicious intent. " N-no," you blurt out. " I'm good . . . thanks."

You hoped the man would leave it at that: Leave you alone and be on your way.But as you tried walking past him, he roughly grabbed your arm, making you back towards him.

" Aww, cmon kid. Don't leave me hanging." The man chuckled out. " Let's go to my place, yeah? We can play games: have some fun!"

" NO!" You yelled out. You were terrified now: eyes swelling with tears asylum tried to free yourself from the man's iorn grip. You honestly didn't care if Jervis could hear you. You needed to get away from this creep. " L-LET GO! LET GO OF ME!"

" Excuse me, my friend, but just what do you think you're doing?"

You stopped struggling when you heard it: the ticking of a silver pocket watch. The man looked away from you, annoyed as he turned to see who was talking to him.

And there Jervis Tetch stood with his nice clothes and fancy tophat. His silver watch was swinging back and forth as he stared into the eyes of the man who was harrasing you.

" Hey!" The man spat out. "Mind your own business, ya fancy freak!"

Jervis had a smile on his face, but he wasn't happy; far from it, actually.

If you looked closer enough into his dark eyes and strained smile, you would be able to see the burning rage and murderous intent running all throughout his body. It didn't matter if this man let you go willingly or not.

No.

This man was about to die.

And you were going to see every single moment of it.

" Actually, this is my business. You see, you are currently touching my child. So I would appreciate it if you let them go." Jervis requested. Although it wasn't a request and more of a demand.

" Hah! And why . . . Would . . . Do . . ."

Jervis just kept on smiling as he swung his watch " Tick,tock, tick,tock. Just keep your eyes on the clock. . ."

The man was stiff as a boar now, standing up straight and not moving a muscle. " Now then, my friend, I will ask agian: Please do be polite and let go of my child."

This time, the man obliged, letting go of you. You fell down to the floor with a thud. Looking back up, you could see the eyes of Jervis piercing into you.

" Bunny." Jervis said sternly. " Come here."

You sat there, frozen for a moment, as you quickly tried to think of what to do. Maybe you could run?

" Y/N!" Jervis snapped. The slight raising of his voice made you flinch.

Jervis quickly calmed himself down. "My dear . . . I told you to come here. . . "

Taking the hint, you quickly got your trembling body off the ground and made your way over to him. Quietly dreading whatever was about to happen.

When you got there , he quickly grabbed you and hugged you tightly. You let out a small squeak as he did so.

" Everything is okay now, bunny," Jervis cooed. His voice sounded almost sickly sweet. " Papa's got you."

Using both of his hands, he gently cupped your face, lifting it up to reveal your puffy little eyes and cheeks.

" Did the bad man hurt you bunny?" He asked. Nervously, you gave him a small nod.

He pressed his lips together and made a little humming noise " Well that just will not do. . . "

Ungrasping your face, he gently bent down to reach your level. Grabbing your left shoulder with his left hand and your chin with his right: Forcing you to face the stranger who had tried to take you.

" Now, my friend, please do not stall. . ."

Jervis' smile was fully back now. But this time, it was full of bludlust. Pure and utter bloodlist: Obsession and Possesvie instincts.

" Bash your head in agianst that wall."

Doing as he was commanded, you let out a chilling shreik as you watched the man walk up to the brick wall of the allyway before chucking his head agians the bricks.

Then Agian, and agian.

His head became more mutilated by the sceond. Before toppling over into a bloody, bashed-in mess.

You sobbed as it happened. You tried to pull away from Jervis.

To run.

But his grip was much too strong on you.

Jervis, in the meanwhile, tried soothing you with little shushing noise in your year. "It's okay, bunny. It's okay. He deserves this, just keep watching . . ."

After it was all over, you were a trembling, sobbing mess.

You were much more scared of Jervis Tetch than ever now. Because if he could simply hypnotize and make a man brutally murder himself, the just what on earth could he hypnotize you into doing?

Was he going to make you brutally murder yourself as well?

You looked at the corpse with tears trickling down your eyes. The man was basically unrecognizable now: A body with erupting brains, blood, and bone from the top of it.

" See bunny . . I'm never going to let them take you ."

Thought the words were supposed to be comforting. They were anything but. Jervis then gently placed a kiss on your forehead before picking you up.

You let out a trail of frail little 'no's, but he just shushes you. " It's okay, bunny. I know, I know. You must be so tired, my dear. Let's get you back home. "

Immediately, your heart dropped. You knew that you were going to just his home: Not your home.

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

Jervis kept you in his arms as he walked towards your bedroom. Making his way to the door, he opened it and stepped inside.

It almost felt magical and surreal there. Like it was something out of a fairytale.

Walking over to your bed. He lifted the covers with one of his hands before gently placing you gown and tucking you in underneath a soft, warm quilt.

" Im sure a story will put you right back to bed." Jervis states in confidence. " How does that sound?"

You just give him a little 'ok'.

Although you hated in there, a small, tiny part of your body wanted to admit just how soft and comfy the bed was. And there was no doubt that Tetch had been spoiling you.

But the much more rational ( and louder) side of you kept making you remeber: This man is a literal supervillain who hypnotized and kidnapped you, took you away from your family, and literally just killed a man in front of you.

As you were in your thoughts. Jervis grabbed the copy of Alice and Wonderland with a caterpillar bookmark from your bedside table.Sitting down on the big bed beside you, he pulled you in closer before opening the book and taking the bookmark out.

" Now let's seeeee. . . Ah! Here we are. Alice was . . ."

You didn't listen. Not this time, anyway.

You were much more focused on the fact you might just not survive, let alone escape the phycotic, obsessive eyes of your neighbor.

[crimsonwolf715]

Coming Home

(Part 2 of Adventures of the Batfamily)

Jason watches Batman and Robin take out one of his competitors on security cameras. Batman, who is undoubtedly still his older brother instead of his father, is doing a wonderful job of taking out Jason’s competitors while he’s recovering/vacationing. He grabs the chilled bottle of beer and drinks it while continuing to watch. Once the battle’s over and his brothers come out victorious, he turns the feed off. 

He grabs his cigarettes and heads out onto the roof to smoke. Not the best place, the wind’s more aggressive up there, but he likes the view. He only gets through one cigarette before he gets a call. He looks at it and it’s one of the heads of his port operations. 

“We’re being attacked, boss!” someone that the phone definitely doesn’t belong to shouts when he answers. “The warehouse down by the harbor is being attacked by Batman and his sidekicks!” 

Jason puts the cigarette out and heads down to grab his gear. He drives towards the warehouse once he’s gotten all his gear. After almost getting in two wrecks due to his reckless motorcycle driving, he makes it to the warehouse. It’s quiet and nobody’s there. 

“Where’s the attack?” Jason asks. “If someone is yanking my chain, I swear…” 

The sound of the doors opening stops him. He pulls his pistols out and points them at the door. When someone comes into view, it’s his people. 

“Where’s the attack?” Jason asks. 

“Attack?” one of them asks. “Nobody’s attacked us. We’ve been doing exactly what you instructed us to do, keep things on the down low. We haven’t had a run in with anyone since you left to recover.” 

“So somebody’s pulling the strings. What strings though? What’s the gain?” Jason mutters. 

“Everything alright, sir? Should we fear an attack and move out?” 

“No, I’m going to head out and figure out what’s going on.” 

“Okay, sir.” 

Jason walks back out to his motorcycle and drives to his other warehouse by the docks. 

Not as close to the docks, but maybe they just couldn’t remember the address. Not like Gotham goons are known for being smart. 

He barely gets there and finds the place empty before Batman, Red Robin, and Robin come busting in. Jason signals for assistance, then avoids his siblings by hiding and running around the warehouse. Every time he comes across Damian, Damian gets closer to catching him. On the other hand, Dick does catch him by complete accident. Jason was avoiding Tim when he ran into Dick. 

The two start fighting and he hears his people coming in one of the doors. Dick punches Jason in the abdomen, sending him into the wall behind him. Jason’s reinforcements show up and start attacking Dick. Jason uses the distraction to make his getaway. He hops on his motorcycle and  drives towards his apartment. 

Batman heads down to the Batcave when he gets a notification that someone’s trying to contact him. He sits down at the computer and answers. 

“Hi, Batman.” That voice belongs to Catwoman. 

“Did you find something Selina?” Bruce asks. 

“Always in such a rush,” Selina replies. 

“Yes, I did. I figured out where the Red Hood lives. He lives in one of my old apartment buildings. The landlord was very willing to talk to me about Hood. He’s a model tenant outside of watching movies with gunshots late at night, which people seem to complain about. He was almost never there until two weeks ago. He’s barely seen the man leave since then. He is currently not home though, if you wanna wait on him. Why did you need me to find all this out? Couldn’t figure it out yourself?” 

“Would’ve taken too long. What’s the address?” 

Selina rattles it off, so Bruce writes it down. 

“You think maybe we could…?” 

“Thanks, Selina.” He cuts the line and heads back upstairs. 

He runs into Alfred on the way out. 

“Where are you off to, sir?” 

“To talk to Gordon. We’re hosting a gala for the police force and donors. We need to iron some stuff out.” 

“That doesn’t sound worth leaving when you said you wouldn’t.” 

“I only said that I wouldn’t go out to fight crime. I’ve left the house a handful of times. I’ll be back in a while.” 

“Alright, sir.” 

Bruce gets a car and then drives towards the address Selina gave him. 

Jason stumbles into his apartment and he can hear something making a whistling sound from the kitchen. Jason walks in there and he’s struck by the sight of seeing his father there, boiling water like this is a casual “come to see your child situation”. 

“What the…?” 

Jason doesn’t get the chance to finish the question since Bruce turns and asks, “Are you injured? You’re bleeding.” 

Jason looks down and notices that there is blood on his costume. “Oh, that’s why I’m in pain.” 

Jason’s vision blurs and he falls forward. He feels someone catch him before he blacks out. He wakes up with a needle in his arm and a fuzzy feeling in his head. He opens his eyes and he sees Bruce sitting in his armchair, watching something to Jason’s left. Jason glances in the direction and it’s a bag of blood. Jason glances down at his arm. 

He’s giving me blood. Is this the blood I keep in my stash? 

“Oh good. You’re awake,” Bruce says. 

“What?” Jason asks, the word slurring slightly. 

“I said that I’m glad that you’re awake. I was worried that what I was doing wouldn’t be sufficient.” 

“Why…? Why are you helping me?” 

“Jason, you’re my son. I want to help you.” 

“Bullshit,” Jason spits. “Get out before I rip this out and kick your ass out of my apartment.” 

Bruce gets up. “Just keep the blood going and take meds in three hours. And know that you’ll always have a place at home.” 

Bruce gives Jason one last look, one that Jason interpreted as remorseful, then leaves. 

The three get to the Batcave and Dick pulls the cowl off. 

“Ugh, I hate wearing a cowl. I don’t know how Wally does it all the time. I’m glad the police tipped us off that Red Hood was out tonight.” 

“Are you bleeding, Grayson?” Damian asks, walking closer, his eyes on Dick’s abdomen. 

Dick looks down and notices blood on his torso, but he’s not in pain. 

“It’s not my blood, Dami.” 

“Does that mean you hit Hood?” Tim asks. 

“I guess. I don’t think I hit him with anything sharp, but he’s the only one that got close enough to get this much blood on me.” 

“Quickly and carefully take the suit off. I’ll run the blood through the system to see if we can find a match,” Tim says. 

“Good idea, Tim,” Dick says. “I’m gonna go change and give this to you. Bruce is gonna be pissed.” 

When Dick comes back, Alfred’s standing by Tim and Damian, who are stationed at the computer. Dick offers Tim the suit, which Tim takes. 

“How’s Dad?” Dick asks. 

“He left a little while ago,” Alfred answers. 

“Where did he go?” Damian asks, sounding suspicious. 

“He said that he was going to speak to the Commissioner about the upcoming Police Gala. I wasn’t too worried considering he knows better than to do something dangerous without his gear, which you had Master Grayson.” 

Dick nods, though he doesn’t look convinced that Bruce wouldn’t go out and do something dangerous without his gear. 

“Roughly how long should this take, Drake?” Damian asks. 

“Thirty minutes.” 

“Then I’m going to get a quick shower and change.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

Tim puts the sample into the computer as Damian heads towards the changing area. The computer beeps five minutes later, surprising Dick and Tim. 

“That was really fast,” Tim says. “Let me…” 

He clicks two things and the results come up. 

Jason Peter Todd  

Dick and Tim stare at the computer in silent shock while Alfred excuses himself. 

Damian silently walks up. “Is this the result?” 

Tim wordlessly nods. 

“So that means that Todd isn’t dead.” 

“What do we tell Dad?” Dick says. 

“That maybe he wasn’t wrong and he did see him in the warehouse that night,” Tim answers. “I did some searching earlier this week and found footage of someone driving to the place before we got there, but either he knew where the cameras were and avoided showing his face or he was just really lucky.” 

“Father definitely went after Todd.” 

“What makes you say that, Dami?” 

“Father has thus far kept his word on not leaving the house unless it was essential and while we all know that Alfred probably tried to stop him from leaving earlier, the lie was to put him at ease. There’s no way that Father broke that for a police gala that anyone could plan. Also, have you ever met that man? He’s obsessed with his orphans whether they’re supposed to be dead, or not.” 

Tim types for a minute and then a picture pops up. It’s Barbara. 

“Hey, Babs,” Dick says. 

“Hey. What’s up? I thought you guys were done for the night.” 

“Is Bruce with your dad right now?” Tim asks. 

“No, my dad’s here with me. Say hi, Dad.” 

“No,” they hear Gordon’s voice say off screen. “I talked to them plenty earlier.” 

“Well he’s being anti-social, but he’s been here with me since getting back from the crime scene.” 

“He went after Jason,” Tim and Dick say at the same time. 

“What?” Barbara asks. 

“I will explain everything later, but we have to go find Bruce now,” Dick promises. “I’ll talk to you later, Babs.” 

“Bye.” 

Tim ends the call and gets up. “We should change and go back out.” 

“Why are you going back out?” Bruce asks from the elevator. 

“Oh thank God,” Dick says. “You didn’t go after Jason, did you?” 

He goes over to Bruce, who sighs. “Why would you ask that? I thought you didn’t believe me.” 

“We got into a fight with the Red Hood earlier and his blood got on the suit. We searched it and it said that it’s Jason. The computer doesn’t lie, and it explains how he’s able to know our moves.” 

“Well, I’m not with Jason. I’m here with you three. You should come up, I brought dinner with me.” 

Damian and Tim exchange a look of disbelief while Dick nods like he believes Bruce. They go upstairs and Alfred’s sitting at the table already. 

“You alright, Alfred?” Dick asks. 

“I will be, thank you.” 

Dick nods, then passes out food. He barely eats anything, then goes up to his room and spends the night thinking about Jason. 

The day goes by with Jason just nursing his injury. He gets up and gets ready at eight pm. He gave the police another tip about one of his competitors, but decides that he wants to watch his family deal with them in person. 

Jason arrives at the scene in his Red Hood attire, armed and ready in case anybody spots him. He watches his family deal with the thugs, a weight settling in his chest. It makes it hard to breathe. Once they’re done dealing with the thugs, Dick ruffles Damian and Tim’s hair. 

Dickie wouldn’t mind. He’d probably cry, but he wouldn’t try to kill me. I’ve never directly interacted with Damian Wayne. Just a couple of encounters with Batman and Robin where I was fighting Batman, but he seems like the type that might try to kill me. Tim, on the other hand, would be a problem. I’ve had countless run-ins with Red Robin where I’ve point-blank tried to kill him. He wouldn’t feel safe anywhere near me. 

Am I actually considering this? 

Jason realizes that Dick, Tim, and Damian are all heading back in the direction of the Batcave. The police show up and Batman talks with them briefly before heading to a roof right above to watch the police do their jobs. 

Probably so no loose ends get left. 

Jason makes the decision at this moment. He jumps onto the roof that Bruce is on, clearly waiting for the police to finish up before leaving. 

“Batman.” 

Bruce turns to see that Jason’s heading towards him. Bruce clearly braces for some kind of attack but Jason just puts his head on Bruce’s chest, craving the affection he’s been deprived of for years. 

Even if Bruce just lets me stay here like this, that’ll be enough.  

Bruce pulls Jason into a hug, so he drops the helmet and gun in his hands. As he hugs Bruce back, tears start pouring down his face. They just stand there for a while, hugging while Jason cries. 

“I’m glad you came,” Bruce says softly. 

Jason half nods. He can hear Dick’s voice over Bruce’s comm. 

“Hey, Dad. Everything alright? Your tracker still places you at the crime scene.” 

Bruce switches his comm on. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ll be home in a bit. How are your brothers?” 

“They’re both safe and at home. These last two days have been a disaster. We really have to come up with something to do about this problem.” 

“It’ll be fine. We’ll all talk when I get there.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna get everyone upstairs and ready for dinner. Over and out.” 

Bruce switches his comm off again. 

“Are you gonna come home?” Bruce asks. 

Jason doesn’t even think about it, he just nods. He doesn’t want to leave Bruce’s embrace, and the warmth that it brings being back in the arms of his father who really does love him. Bruce orders the food and picks it up with one arm wrapped around Jason’s shoulder. 

After getting changed in the Batcave and Jason staring at all the things that stayed the same and the few things that have changed, Bruce takes Jason upstairs. 

“Let me talk to them before you come in,” Bruce says. 

Jason nods, then leans against the wall. “What? Were you just not gonna tell them about me?” 

“They already know. Your blood got all over my suit. I just have to explain you being in the house. I planned on explaining, I just didn’t know exactly how to go about it.” 

Jason nods again. “Take your time, I’m still in pain from that stab wound. So I’m not going anywhere. And before you ask, no, I haven’t busted my stitches.” 

Bruce’s turn to nod. He walks into the living room and Jason settles down in the study, grunting at the pain. 

I’m alone, so who’s gonna know I’m being a little bitchy about the injury? 

“Master Jason?” 

Jason looks up and sees Alfred. 

“Hey,” Jason mutters, plastering a smile on his face for Alfred. 

“You all have never been very good at lying to me.” 

Jason’s frown returns. “Yeah, something like that.” 

“Are you staying?” 

“That’s the hope.” 

“Let me look at the injury then.” 

Jason obediently pulls his shirt up enough that Alfred can see where Bruce stitched him up. 

“I need to rebandage it, but that’s something I can do when it’s more convenient.” 

“I’ll get the first aid kit. I assume that Master Wayne is talking to the others.” 

“He’s supposed to be.” 

“Alright, I’ll be right back then.” 

Alfred leaves and Jason closes his eyes. The whole place smells and feels familiar. Something that’s always put Jason at ease. He feels himself starting to doze so he sits up. Alfred walks back in and starts wordlessly taking care of Jason. Jason stays still and doesn’t complain. 

“You’re much better about being cooperative than you were as a child.” 

“Thanks,” Jason says. 

Dick sits on the couch in complete silence. He’s been like that since figuring out that Jason’s alive. Unless he’s out in that uniform, he’s been completely quiet. Damian walks over and sits down on the opposite side of the couch from Dick. 

“Do you need someone to talk to?” Damian obviously sounds uncomfortable, but he’s been putting more and more effort into his relationships recently. 

Dick shakes his head. Damian moves closer, tentatively leaning against Dick. Dick runs his hand through Damian’s hair silently. 

Jason’s alive? He’s been alive this whole time and we’ve fought. Countless times we’ve gone up against each other and I was none the wiser. I knew that it was someone who knew our moves, but I’d always assumed that it was someone who could adapt from watching us. I never thought that it was my little brother. 

Dick’s pulled from his thoughts by Tim walking in saying his name. He looks up and Tim’s holding a bowl. He offers it to Dick, who takes it. There are small cookies inside, the kind that Barbara taught Tim how to make. Dick smiles. 

“Come here.” 

Tim sits down on the opposite side of Dick. He wraps his arms around Tim and Damian. 

“Thank you two, for trying to make me feel better. I really do appreciate it. This is just…” He trails off, not really sure how to explain to his brothers exactly how he’s feeling. 

“We get it,” Tim says. “This is something that we could have never seen coming.” 

“We’ll figure out what to do,” Damian promises. 

Bruce walks into the room and smiles. Dick gives Bruce a half-assed smile in an attempt to not prolong this conversation. 

“I have something to talk to you three about,” Bruce says. 

“Is it in regards to dinner?” Damian asks. 

“No,” Bruce answers. 

“Then it can wait,” Tim replies. “We’re in the middle of something here.” 

Bruce blinks, clearly not expecting the conversation to go like this. 

“What’s up, B?” Dick asks. “Any news on our problem?” 

“Yes, that’s actually what I wanted to talk about.” 

All three of them perk up. Dick and Tim are clearly surprised that’s the topic and Damian just seems interested in what Bruce has to say. 

“He’s in the other room.” 

“In the other room like down in the Batcave because you captured him or in the other room like you let him in the house?” Tim asks. 

“He came here on his own accord. I wanted to talk to you guys about it.” 

“Nothing to talk about,” Dick says. “You brought him in so you’re clearly wanting to keep him here. Why don’t you bring him in?” 

Bruce looks a little hesitant, but he walks out. 

“Are you okay?” Tim asks Dick. 

“Not really, but I will be.” 

Bruce leads Jason into the room and everyone seems wary other than Damian. Damian is never intimidated or wary of anyone. Jason gives them an awkward smile he barely manages. Dick gets up and walks over. He seems to be looking Jason over, which makes him uncomfortable. The look in Dick’s eyes is one he’s never given Jason before. Dick punches Jason in the jaw and Jason lands on his ass, not at all prepared to be hit in the face. 

“Dick,” Bruce says. 

“He definitely deserved that, but I’m surprised it was Grayson,” Damian says. 

Tim nods. 

“I mourned you. I go to your grave monthly, you asshole,” Dick says. “I had to deal with the fact that I lost another brother and you were alive the whole damn time? I… I need a breather.” 

Dick walks out and Jason gets up. Damian gets up and goes after Dick. 

“Are you gonna try to kill me again?” Tim asks. 

Jason shakes his head. 

“Okay, then welcome back. I’m gonna figure out if Alfred needs help with dinner.” 

Tim walks out, leaving Bruce and Jason alone. 

“They’ll adjust,” Bruce says. 

“Should I be here while they do?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m not really hungry. Can I go to my room or something?” Jason asks. 

“Yeah, your room is still the same. Feel free.” 

Jason heads upstairs and other than the fact that it’s probably regularly cleaned, his room looks the same. He sits down on the bed, feeling the urge to pull all the stuff off the walls. 

This feels like a hall of memories. That’s what it was. I was gone. 

Jason sighs. He ends up passing out after a while of looking at his old stuff.

[writting-for-a-chain-of-heros]

Links divorce HC

Day 1:

Sky

Neglected  

Tw: Divorce, depression, neglect and a lot of angst

He really didn't know how it happened but one day you both had gotten into a slow routine where you were both acting more like roommates than a couple 

Or more specifically YOU stopped acting like his spouse 

It was slow at first, little changes here and there that didn't seem like a big deal at first but looking back at them they were warning signs he should have considered before the situation escalated into this.

At first they were complaints about how tired you had been feeling lately, how busy you had been with helping to repair the damages your era had faced by Dark Link plus his goons and how forgetful you had started being on time to your dates with Sky.

Then you started to slowly sleep in more during the morning,which Sky couldn't protest against too much since it meant more time for him to sleep but also more time to cuddle with you in his arms as you rested against him.

But soon after it got to a point where even HE was concerned with how many days you'd spend doing nothing but laying in your covers with the rare exception of work that was also on the edge of being forgotten in exchange for sloth.

He'd try to get you to get out more often by suggesting some of the things you loved to do together, unfortunately they also didn't work.

You want to go exploring? Sorry not today, your legs feel weak :(

You want to go flying? The weather is too cold/hot/humid/sunny, maybe next time 

Do you want to go spar for a few rounds? You have an upset stomach,your head hurts or you just don't have the energy for it today.

At some point you stop eating as much as you use to, in fact you're barely eating at all

He tries his best to be a good spouse by bringing the food to you in bed which results in you refusing to eat and leaving behind a full plate or only patrically eating it while leaving most of it behind 

Every time he'd try to question you on why you haven't been going out or caring for yourself he's met with either silence or a half answer excuse.

“Can you tell me what's been bothering you?” He'd ask

“It's nothing, I am just in a funk, I'll get out of it soon,Link.”

He doesn't want to push you beyond your limits and he genuinely believes you when you tell him those lines over to him

It's ok

You're ok

Everything is ok.

You're just in a bad mood, this will pass in time 

He just needs to give you space and comfort then you'll be back to the same old you from before.

He just has to wait and be patient.

That's what he tells himself for weeks as you slowly start to get worse and worse over time.

It was bad enough when you were both acting so distant but now he was less of a spouse and more like a parent now.

It has been 6 months and you had stopped do all chores, stopped feeding yourself, stopped showering, stopped working, stopped going on dates completely and stopped,well, basically doing everything except breathing

Sometimes you'd get up to go to the bathroom, maybe eat a little bit of the food Link had gotten you and that was it before you plopped back down to bed with the old stained blanket

The room would stink of day-old food that was barely touched and Link would have to be the one to toss it out while he did the dishes along with the rest of the household chores he had been doing alone for some time now.

He’d find himself having to drag you out of bed to clean you since you refused to do it yourself.

He'd change out the bed sheets,blankets, pillows you had been sleeping in for Hylia knows how long.

He'd brush your hair,brush your teeth,clip your nails, change your clothes,do the laundry & do his daily activities outside while you continue to show no progress

He tries to talk to you a few more times but you don't even bother to give an excuse anymore which leads to a lot of one sided arguments that only frustrate him more as the relationship becomes more strained.

He tries to get you to do couples counseling and tries to seek help from his friends to mediate the situation only for it to fail as well.

He wants to help you.

He really does but he doesn't know how.

But the most frustrating part of it all is that it seems as though you aren't even trying at all

After a year & a half of consistently trying he finally gives you an ultimatum.

You either seek professional help and try to get better or there's a divorce.

He loves you

He absolutely loves you

He wants to spend the rest of his life with you

But he can't stay with you if you refuse to do anything to change or improve 

He feels neglected

He feels alone

He wants the bright person you used to be to come back...

Please..

……

…..

The relationship ends.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Restless Man (Part 3)

Summary: Things aren’t good when Frisch shows up at the station with some men but the reader isn’t going anywhere with him...

Pairing: Beau Arlen x reader

Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, bodily injury, kidnapping, threats, mentioned minor past minor character deaths

A/N: Spoilers for Big Sky season 3! This will be the final part of this impromptu little series. Enjoy!

_______

To say things had gone to shit would be an understatement. It turned out a police station really wasn’t all that safe when there were no cops in it. Nearly every officer was at the craftsman on the way far edge of town. Frisch had definitely been staying there and planning to have taken you there. 

Unfortunately, with everyone gone, that left the station vulnerable which was exactly what he’d been planning on.

You, Beau and Pop were currently hunkered down in Beau’s office, you and Pop on either side of the door while Beau was passed out on the couch. He was out cold and was not waking up anytime soon. The doctor had prescribed a mild sedative to help him sleep and, well, his timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Pop,” you whispered as you heard Frisch’s hired goons search through the station. “Can you carry Beau?”

He stared at you disapprovingly, furrowing his brow. “Y/N, you can’t go out there.”

“He wants me. You and Beau? He’ll have no problem killing the two of you. If I go out there, can you get him out through the window?” 

“Yes but giving yourself up-”

“I said I’m going out there. I never said I’m going anywhere with him.” You winked and cracked open the door. If Pop could have stopped you before you stood, you knew he would have. Quickly you reached over to Beau’s bookcase, grabbing an item off the shelf. 

This needed to end before they got to Beau and Pop or the people in the back of the station.

You ducked outside with your weapon, three men before you. Two of them you didn’t recognize but smack dab in the middle of the room was Frisch. For some reason, he didn’t seem as frightening as he once did. Maybe it was fifteen years of aging or the training you had but all you saw was the man who tried to hurt someone you cared about. Again.

“Y/N-” You didn’t let him finish before you took a shot at the two men closest to you. The man on the right went down, Frisch diving behind a desk and just barely avoiding you. “You know, I was expecting you’d be angry. But you’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

You held up the canister and pulled out the pin with your teeth before tossing it across the room. All three men groaned when the flashbang went off. From a far hall, one of the officer’s in the back ran out, helping you get a gun on Frisch and the other man. You kicked away their weapons, cocking your own when Frisch tried to move towards you.

“Why don’t you just do it,” he growled. “Get it over with.”

“You’re not worth the paperwork,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You got no idea what kind of shit storm you made for-”

“Do it!” he shouted, reminding you for a moment of the man from your home all those years ago. You only cocked your head though and smiled.

“Nah. I want you to live, Henry. I want you to live for a very long time, knowing I love someone very deeply and that that person isn’t you.” Pop came out of the office, helping to secure Frisch before you went over to the man you shot, currently clutching his leg.

He glared at you while trying to put pressure on his thigh, his resolve breaking when you knelt down beside him. “You know he’s a sack of shit, right?”

“I didn’t know you guys were cops when I took this job, I swear,” he said. You nodded, pretending to mull it over. “I’m so screwed.”

“Probably. You talk, I’m sure some kind of deal can be made, though. Think it over while you’re in the hospital. That sicko’s going away for life. I’d advise not following in his footsteps.”

“You,” grumbled Beau. You stood, finding him partially sedated, leaning against the doorframe of his office. He huffed, slipping and sliding down to the ground, clutching his ankle in pain. 

“Better make that ambulance for two.”

“You’re so stupid,” muttered Beau for the thousandth time that evening. You just hummed, flipping through an old magazine in his hospital room. “This is all your fault!”

“I told you to use your crutches,” you sang song. He grabbed your wrist from the bed beside you, green eyes full of fury. “You’re just mad because I used your lucky flashbang.”

“I’m mad for a whole lot, missy,” he growled. You raised your eyebrows, smirking back at him. “Stop making that face.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you teased, still smirking as his nostrils flared. “I knew what I was doing. Risky? Yes, but so was letting three armed men run rampant in the station with people locked up in cells and you out cold. I made a call, the same one you would have made in my position.”

He grumbled and got in your face, hot breath fanning over you. “Never do that again. Swear.”

“I pinky promise.” Beau grumbled, kissing you roughly as he kept you close. He sighed when he inched back, closing his eyes. “I’m okay. Question is are you?”

“I’m better now that he’s locked up and not getting out,” he said as the doctor walked in wearing a frown not too dissimilar to the one Beau had been sporting. “What’s the verdict?”

“You fucked up your ankle, Beau, that’s the verdict.” You crossed your arms, Beau trying to brush it off.

“It can’t be that bad-”

“You need surgery. Then I’m shoving you in a cast until I know your ankle is healed. I told you not to walk on it and it looks like you’ve done nothing but ignore that direction since you’ve left. Your body went through a major trauma. You’re lucky you’re young and healthy and you should have no problem making a full recovery.” The doctor turned to you and sighed. “He won’t be able to stay by himself that first week. You said his home isn’t suitable for crutches?”

You glanced at Beau, seeing his puppy dog eyes. “Alright, Arlen. You can stay with me until you’re better. Don’t think this means we’ve moved in together or anything though. We’re still new to this.”

“Your surgery is planned for the morning. Do me a favor and don’t leave the fucking bed for the rest of today,” he said, his beeper going off. “I’ll be back soon to explain the surgery in more detail. And Arlen? Next time you damn well listen to me.”

Beau gave a mini salute, chuckling after the doctor was gone. “Surprised he wasn’t more pissed at me.”

“I’m guessing you know him based on that wildly unprofessional interaction.”

“Oh we go way back,” said Beau, scooting over on the bed. “Sit with me.”

You crammed yourself in, Beau sliding his arm over your shoulders. “So you’re all better cause Frisch is locked up, just like that.”

He shrugged, waggling his hand. “Maybe not all better. I promise when I am stuck at home on my ass or on desk duty because of this fucking ankle, I will make time and talk to someone too.”

“Good. I don’t want you to try and do it on your own like after what happened with your old partner. It’s not good for you,” you said, massaging his scalp, Beau’s eyes fluttering closed. “I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure the station is going nuts.”

“They can survive. We need a moment,” you said, Beau absently curling into your touch. “So. I know last night’s dinner wasn’t amazing but if you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?”

“Man, I could go for a greasy burger and fries. And a strawberry milkshake. And some of your mashed potatoes. Those were, despite what you may think, the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.” 

“You were literally starving for a week.” 

“But the were so good,” he laughed. “Would you mind running home and getting me some?”

“For you, bud? Sure,” you said, kissing his temple. “I’ll get your other food and bring you some clothes since I’m sure you’ll be here a few days. Apparently you’re a troublemaker who doesn’t listen.”

“I wonder who I got that from,” he teased, resting his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. 

“Take a nap while I’m gone,” you whispered, sliding out from beside him, tugging his blanket up over his waist. “We’ll call Emily when I get back, okay?”

“Oh crap,” he said, running his hand over his mouth. “Is she okay? I haven’t talked to her-”

“I know. I called her yesterday after we found you, let her know you’re safe. As far as she’s concerned, you’ve been resting today and will call her tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said with a soft and sleepy smile. “You know your relationship with her will change when she finds out.”

“She has a mother Beau. I will be what she needs me to be. She’s old enough to make that decision for herself,” you said. He nodded, leaning back in bed. 

“I love that you care about her,” he said, almost as if to himself. You gave him a quick kiss, Beau smiling when you crossed the room for the door. “Hey, Y/L/N. Soon as I’m back on my feet, I’m taking you a proper date like a gentleman.”

“I’d like that,” you said, lingering by the door. “Beau?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you’re home again.”

“Me too, baby.” You shook your head, Beau laughing. “What I’d say?”

“New pet name, I don’t do baby.”

“Missy?” 

“I’m drinking your milkshake for that,” you said, walking out the door, gratefully to the sound of his laughter.

_______

[lets-zofifi-stuff]

The Smallest Miracles

Fairy!Sun and Moon & Witch reader short story

Heavily based on Fairy AU by @ayyy-imma-ninja, Fairy Friends AU by @themuse-artcorner and this drawing.

Thank you all!

hurt/comfort, no romance

Trigger Warnings: abuse, animal abuse, implied suffocation, panic attack

Edit: there is an ao3 with (currently) three more chapters.

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

It would be fitting to say, it was a dark stormy night, when I sneaked into the poacher's den, but in fact it was a calm chilly evening, in the middle spring. The sun only began to set down, when I found the base of the operation I was tracing down for months.

There were plenty of people in the world willing to pay a hefty price for a magical creature. So obviously, there came assholes who busied themselves with catching and selling them. But they made one serious mistake. They tried to hunt in the witch's domain. Mine, to be precise.

They made their base in a wide sinkhole in the middle of the old forest. About half a dozen goons were camping next to the mouth of a cave, presumably their main storage. They were sitting by the campfire and drinking heavily from glass bottles and ceramic jars, for warming-up.

I was hiding in the bushes, observing. The day was cold. A gentle drizzle, half way between rain and fog, was settling on me as a damp layer. If not for my warm coat and thick gloves, I would be already freezing. I had a hood pulled deep on my face with my pointy hat put on top.

The sinkhole was an excellent place to stay hidden, and to help keep imprisoned beings inside. Far worse to defend yourself against an ambush. I had a few spells prepared.

I made the fog rise from the forest floor and slowly flew down into the hole. They didn't notice anything suspicious about it until they all started to feel dizzy and unsteady on their feet. The airborne spores I added to the cloud were working.

I sat on my trusty broomstick, covered my nose and mouth with a scarf and flew down into the cloud. I landed unnoticed near the mouth of the cave. I nearly tripped over one of drugged bandits. He was wiggling on the ground, mumbling something about the rain, so I assumed he was dreaming about being a worm in the mud. He seemed strangely content with that.

The cloud was only reaching a few feet inside. Further, the air was clean, so I was able to uncover my face. 

Creatures in the cages looked at me when I came in. Some got startled by the presence of a human, but some seemed to recognise that I am not one of their captors. Maybe they even knew what my pointy hat meant. A shine of intelligence in some of the eyes, made me feel sick to my stomach. Not like I wasn’t expecting magic folks trapped together with magical animals, but it was always a shock. Sleeping spore was far too good for those bastards.

I could see only about eight cages with residents inside. Either the poachers were bad at their job, or they managed to transport and sell most of their catches before I could stop them. I didn't have much hope of rescuing the poor guys after they were given away into the hands of some rich collectors or power-hungry mages.

I waved my hand at the creatures. “I am a friend. I want to help, I promise. Let me do that, please.” None has answered me, but that was okay. Many beings able to speak like to fall silent at the moment the human shows up. I was not here to make friends anyway. I began to walk from cage to cage, speaking to them soothingly and checking up their condition.

All the creatures seemed to be in relatively good health. They had to get captured recently. I could risk simply letting them go as they were. They were able to find their way out and take care of themselves, just like they were doing before humans took them. 

Meanwhile the sleep cloud outside started to dissipate.

I quickly opened the cages and urged the creatures to move fast, before the bandits could wake up. I didn't need to tell them that twice. All ran out and didn't look behind once. If some of them were about to trample their former captors in their sleep, I couldn't blame them. 

I could give myself a pat on the shoulder for a good job, and fly home. Or should I try to place some curses on the bandits, while they were still unconscious? I couldn’t exactly arrest them, I was just one person, and what they were doing was hardly even illegal in this part of the world. But a good curse or two would make their life miserable for a good while, and force them to seek some very expensive help with their removal.

I was just about to start when something brought my attention. Deep inside the cave, there were rows of shelves, and boxes, likely with gear and supplies, for the long hunting trips. 

I spotted a big glass jar, lying overturned on the ground. From afar I thought it was just an emptied container for alcohol. The fading daylight was not enough to let me see clearly, but I felt there was some object inside. I wordlessly ordered the crystal at the end of the broom to lit up with starlight stored inside. The gentle glow revealed a tiny figure curled up inside the jar.

I crouched down to have a better look and gasped. It was a fairy. A real fairy like in the old children tales. It had to be.

The figure was yellow, with something like orange flower petals growing out of the tiny head. They were dressed in fabulously colorful clothes. On their back… there was a set of butterfly-shaped translucent wings. The wings were sparkling in the light, and flowed like silk, but they had to be able to spread and fly once.

Could I be mistaken? Fairies were extremely rare, and nearly impossible to spot. They were supposed to live deep in the woods and never ever show up to adults. They were supposed to only be seen by nice kids who’d listen to their parents, respected nature and did their chores in time. Naturally, many people doubted their existence after getting older.

My mentor told me about them too, when I was still very young. She said they are beings of great magic. They were supposed to be invisible to most, and have a natural bond to all living things, and energies of the universe were flowing through them freely. 

“Nature's tiniest miracles“ she said with her eyes so dreamy. It was so unlike her to act this sentimental, that the memory remained clear. She had traveled everywhere, saw everything and had a very cynical view of the world. She also swore she saw a fairy once in the distance as a girl, and tried to find it ever since. But apparently they were once in a lifetime sightings.

Now one was right before me, closed in a jar. A jar that likely was once used for storing cheap booze. Somebody made an effort to jab carelessly a few times at a metal cab, to create holes for air. Did the bandits even know what they had trapped?? Could somebody really be this stupid?!

Even though I never saw a fairy, I could say this one didn’t look healthy. Their petals were withered, their skin sickly pale, and they were sitting curled up with their face hidden in their knees.

I put my hand on the glass. When I did that, the fairy finally looked up. Their face was round like a child's, sunny yellow with a bouquet of freckles. Their big round eyes went wide with fear, one sky blue, one gold like a sunset. They also started to shiver.

“Don’t worry,” I said, taking away my hand, and putting a reassuring smile, a little forced but still genuine. “I’m here to help.” 

They opened their mouth and said something. Their lips were moving but very little sound was getting through the glass. I pointed at my ears and then at the jar cab.

“I can't hear you. I will open this now. Don’t panic, alright?”

Once I took off the top, the yellow fairy crawled out. They laid down on the ground, panting erratically and shaking. That scared me. Were the holes in the cab not giving them enough air? Or was it the reaction to shock? Fairies were always described as fragile and sensitive creatures. I swallowed hard.

“I am not going to hurt you, I promise.” I said in a soft voice. “I’m a friend.”

The creature peaked at me.

“I know you are scared but would you let me-?”

“Moon,” they said. I blinked in surprise.

“What about it?” The fairy shook their head and pointed. 

“Moon,” they repeated urgently. 

I moved my light up and realized the wall behind the shelves was not a cave’s wall but a gray curtain. The fairy was pointing at it.

“Alright. I will look there. Please, try to take deep breaths.”

The cavern went further than I realized. Behind the curtain was another part of storage I would otherwise miss. More supplies, barrows, boxes, some very small cages, like for birds and rodents.

“What am I looking f-?” I began to ask and stopped myself because I saw. On the higher shelf standing another jar. It looked empty from down there, but I sat on my broom and levitated myself up. I picked it off carefully and held it in both hands. Inside- 

I was wiser than to falter and fall off the broom but only barely. Another fairy??

This one was blue, with clothes in a star pattern. They didn’t have petals, but there was a hat on their head. A soft-looking nightcap, trimmed with white down. Half of their face was light, almost white part in the shape of the crescent, the rest was deep blue. The constellation of freckles sprinkled across their nose and cheeks correspond to those on the yellow fairy’s face. The fairy had deep dark circles around their eyes. That had to be “Moon”.

But something was wrong. The little figure was lying on the bottom of the jar, and didn't react when I moved their jar. I felt the cold panic rising. I lowered to the ground, and hurried out. The yellow fairy was waiting where I left them. They brightened, like a sunrise when I stormed back out.

“Brother?” they asked, looking at the jar. When I came closer the relief on their face fastly shifted into horror.

I put the jar gently on the ground. Did those fuckers forgot to make holes in this one entirely?! 

No, the holes were there although less of them. I opened it with shaky hands, reached in and carefully pulled the fairy out. He was just the size to fit on my opened palm. 

I turned him to his back and lowered him so the yellow fairy could have access as well. They immediately crawled on my palm, forgetting about their fear of me, and kneeled by their brother’s side.

I craned down and held my breath. Was I too late? Please, spirits, don’t let me be late.

I wasn’t.

We could both see movements of the tiny chest. Slow, shallow breaths.

“He is alive!” cried the yellow fairy. I let out a sigh. Thank you spirits!

The fairy took their brother in their arms and hugged him.

“But he is so weak!” They weren't wrong. It could be just fear that I felt, but the blue fairy looked like he was about to die at any moment.

“How long has he been unconscious?” I asked.

“He was still awake when I saw him last time. The jar fell off the shelf, I rolled off, and lost sight of him. The floor was uneven, it got stuck on something and I couldn’t… couldn't…” they looked like they were about to cry.

“When was it?”

“Yesterday… morning?”

“I will use some healing magic on him. It should help some, regardless of what is wrong.”

“Magic?” They looked at me in fear. “Are you a mage?”

“No. I am not.” I rubbed my fingers together, mentally preparing for the task.

“Let me access him, allright? And be still for a moment. This requires concentration and balance.”

I put two on the blue faerie’s chest. His sibling didn’t try to stop me. I breathed deeply and focused on the life energy inside me. I told it to flow down my arm through my fingers, and connect to the magic of the blue fairy. My fingertips started to glow. Moon tensed under my touch.

“What’s happening?” gasped the yellow fairy.

“He fights me,” I said. “Even though he is unconscious.”

He was no doubt a creature born to magic, as he was able to sense my intervention and tried to push me away. I bit my lip trying to stay calm. I didn’t want to force my way through the fairy's natural defenses. It would cause him distress and exhaust him further but I was starting to feel tired myself.

“Please, don’t fight me, please, don’t fight me,” I mumbled, pressing my energy gently against his. For a moment I thought it would be all for nothing. But then a small yellow hand lay down on mine. It felt good.

Maybe it was his sibling's familiar aura that made Moon lower his guard, or maybe it was me regaining some sort of peace for a moment, but I could feel the resistance fading and my magic was able to flow. The fairy relaxed under my touch.

When I finished, Moon was breathing easier. His face gained some more color, and dark circles around his eyes faded slightly. 

The yellow fairy hugged their brother tighter.

“Th- thank you. But… Are you really not a mage? I thought they are the only humans that can use magic?”

“I’m a witch. Do you see a hat?” I pointed at my head. “Haven't you ever heard about us?”

They shook their head.

“Well, I guess there are not too many witches around really.” I signed. 

“I’m… My name is Sun.”

“And he is Moon?”

“Yes. We are twin brothers.”

“Nice to meet you Sun, I’m-” I turned my head as I heard some groaning outside. The bandits were waking up. I couldn’t exactly fight all six of them.

“... going to introduce myself later. We need to go.”

“Go?”

“I need to take you out of here, quick.” I began to empty one of my bigger pockets. Witch’s clothes have many of them as a principle.

“We will go to my hutt. It’s a safe place. You two will be able to rest and recover.”

“I don’t know. I think Moon would-”

“Okay, done. You should both be able to fit in here.” I carefully picked Sun and plucked him into the pocket. Then I passed him the blue fairy. “Here. Hold him, when we’ll fly, watch if he lays in a good position.”

“A-alright.” Only Sun’s head was poking out of the pocket. Moon layed secured in his arms. “Wait, fly? You can fly too?!”

I sat on my broomstick. The celestial magic from the crystal flew through the wood. My clothes fluttered in the nonexistent wind, as we raised into the air. Sun gasped loudly and I couldn’t help but smile. Who does not like to show off sometimes?

I squeezed the stick tighter and we leaped forward. “Wooaaahh!” shouted Sun.

We flew out just in time to see the poachers that were waking up and scrambling on their feet. The broom flinched and wobbled as I was trying not to crash with them. 

I grit my teeth and jerked the end of the broom upward, pointing it at the sky, accelerating. Some of the more awakened bandits started to shout at us and look around for their crossbows. But before they could begin to shoot, and we flew out of the sinkhole. 

We weren’t ascending fast enough and pierced into the tree line. Now both me and Sun were screaming. 

Somehow I avoided hitting any bigger branches. We soon bursted out above the treetops, like a fish jumping above the green waters. 

I was finally able to flatten out and calm down. 

The wind was hitting my face. The last shines of sunset dyed the clouds in pinks and oranges. 

“You alright down there?” I asked, looking down.

“Yes, yes. We are okay.” breathed Sun. “That was so fast!” Fortunately he seemed more excited than scared.

“You guys don’t usually fly this fast, huh?” I grinned. 

“No. Usually not,” he gave me a warm smile in return. He was still looking tired and sick, but maybe soon I would be able to fix that. I set a course for home.

[indigo-sodapop]

Ok so I've listened to "Chromakopia" like three times now and I've formulated my thoughts about it.

My favorite songs on there are St. Chroma, Judge Judy, and Thought I Was Dead.

This album has a very interesting story to me, and I have a crackpot theory about the structure of the album. But first, the title: "Chromakopia"

Chroma is a greek word meaning "purity, or intensity of colors." Another definition is "intensity of hue; saturation of a color." And kopia means "copy; imitation; duplicate", but like, an exact copy of something. Chroma is Greek and Kopia is Polish. Back to that in a second.

So it's been very obvious, and I've seen this in plenty of reviews, that Tyler, The Creator (TTC) is dealing with themes of aging, and things that people find themselves reconsidering as they grow old-- marriage, children, their own long pasts and a seemingly shorter future. I like the line from St. Chroma that asks "Do I keep the light on or do I gracefully bow out?"

Keep going or stop while it's good? Do I keep going and try to achieve that nebulous title of "superstar" or do I stop here as the fucking goon that I am? Which, I read this article asking certain industry people if they thought TTC was a superstar and some said yes and some said almost but it pissed me off when somebody said "comparing him to the Billies and the Harrys" like fucking please. Enough with using white pop stars who haven't run and starred in an Adult Swim show (a fucking culture classic), shut DJ Khalid's ass up, taught a college class on their work as a benchmark.

Anyway! Chromakopia. First of all I think the title might be a play on, like, people's expectations of TTC after Igor and Flower Boy, you know, being so varied and really different than I think people would have expected after his first albums like Goblin and Bastard. Purity of Color and an Imitation . . . but the album cover and most of the teaser he did was shot in like a sepia tone? Ecepting when he was inside the plane and we got a couple of full color shots. And he talks about people following him, wanting things of him, putting pressure on him . . . and that line about stop impressin the dead. Mm. That's all I got on that.

I felt held when the chorus sung "Can you feel the light inside? Can you feel that fire" in St. Chroma.

I think the main theme here is that line about staying in the light of bowing out from St. Chroma, TTC is sitting here wondering if it's worth it to stay in this life he leads or if he needs to consider a new path. Getting older has a way of making you consider things. Lots of talk about taking masks off and finding your way home, back to yourself . . . It's all so interesting when you look at his choice of, mm costume? Persona? The mask he wears that's so close to his own human face but not, uncanny, the haircut-- I Killed You is fucking great, I love that he gave us a song about loving our natural Black hair. The suit . . . does it represent another layer of the mask he felt compelled at one point to dawn? Or like, the suit represents what people have once before wanted him to conform to? Does it show, considering it seems sort of military-esque that he commands his own destiny or thoughts and expressions?

I think Tomorrow is the final part in his trilogy of time songs, starting with I Ain't Got Time in Flower Boy and Running Out Of Time in Igor. "Cause time got nothing right" is a hell of a line.

Okay, now to my crackpot theory. Chroma, again, is defined as the purity of a color. It's Greek. And I kind of felt like . . . the album was like a Greek play. Nah lemme not be pussy- This Album Is Structured Akin To A Greek Play.

The prologue and the parados was St. Chroma, explaining the feeling of being stifled sometimes, reaching inside for that light that can be muted by so many worries and influences from both outside and in (Paranoid/Take Your Mask Off/Tomorrow/I Hope You Find Your Way Home). There is a rotating cast of a choruz, but one that's there. Sometimes the chorus takes up most of the song and in others it's all Tyler, which is like the alternating structure of a Greek play, letting the chorus explain a scene or actions (that's a stasimon), and then the character(s) dialgoue or monologue. I thought at first that the alternating structure would be like, one song mostly chorus and the next Tyler but I Killed You sort of messed with that, so perhaps the alternating structure is more loosely flowing than that. I Hope You Find Your Way Home is the exodos.

Final thoughts on the title

I could be wrong, but it'd be fun if I were right. Either way, this album is really good. He's not the new David Bowie or the new anybody else. He's a new Tyler, The Creator. And he'll be new once more in his next work. And the next. And the next.

[ramblingloon]

Chapter 1: Privet, my wife.

You watch your reflection on the tainted car window, the air conditioner cooling down the humid summer of Japan. The car takes a calculated turn to the right.

"Y/n, you seem nervous."

you turn to your mother, her h/c hair woven in an elegant hairstyle.

"I'm...not. It's my duty," you say, repeating your father's words.

You recall your father's stern monotone as he reminds you of your duty as the child of the leader of a particular mafia.

The alliance between two brutal outlaws- the guy called Minegishi and your father.

As decided, you were offered as a spouse to one of his most trusted and closest advisors.

"you know how this world works, y/n." your mother reaches with her tinder hands to encase yours.

"And, I'm quite sure if anything happens, your father will deal with it." your mother continues, a small smile on her face, yet sadness laces her e/c eyes.

You nod in understanding when your mother reaches with her delicate finger, tucking a stubborn h/c lock behind your ear.

"we're almost there, Mrs. Family name." the chauffeur declares to your mother.

"This is it,y/n. Remember, you're a Family name. Act like it." your mother lets go of your hands and adjusts in her seat, her face contours into a cold, firm façade.

You look back at your reflection in the window; the cherry blossom trees pass by as your e/c eyes scan your graceful attire.

Within a minute, the car slows down by a grand house. Men in black tailored suits surround the car as the chauffeur drives the car through the driveway.

You regard Minegishi's men interacting with your father's goons.

The car finally stops in front of two men chatting with each other, surrounded by their mobs.

Two men reach to open the doors for you and your mother,

"There you are, Mother's name. I'm sure you know Minegishi by now." your father's grounded voice welcomes your mother before Minegishi and your mother exchange greetings.

You stand there watching in silence when you feel a set of eyes on you. He stands behind Minegishi in a firm stance; his two wavy white locks contrast with his jet-black hair.

His deep blue eyes lock with your e/y ones, and he singles for you in a courteous nod.

"Y/n, the child of the Family name. A pleasure to finally meet you." Minegishi's voice brings you back to the three individuals you're mostly familiar with.

"Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Minegishi," you reply with a smile.

"Shall we go inside then," your father requests while everyone follows behind.

You glance at the rigid blue-eyed man and find him observing you in return.

Swiftly, you look elsewhere as you enter the house, the wooden floor squeaking underneath the weight of all the people on it.

You sit on the comfortable dark couch alongside your mother while your father is back chatting with Minegishi.

"Roshan, come here." Minegishi's cold voice rings in the room.

"so my future husband is called Roshan," you think to yourself,

When a man slips out of the group of men outside and into the room. His confident gait exudes danger while his sapphire eyes glance at you before he stands by Minegishi.

"Meet your future wife, Y/n of Family name."

»•» 🌸 «•«

Chapter one is done yeppiee. What do you guys think?

I'm planning on making the chapters as time skips or time periods " does this make sense lmao"

so in up the coming chapter you'll know how Roshan or white death managed to make his own gang or get alliance outside the Japanese underworld heheh

hope you guys like it and see you in chapter two

Chapter Two , Chapter Three

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

MacGyver - Jake Jensen x Reader

A/N: This is part of @the-slumberparty​ Writer warm up: Genres, Old and New. I got the genre Action and the character archetype Innovator! 

Summary: You and Jake find yourself in a predicament that needs outside of the box thinking to get out of

Word Count: 858

Warnings: Lanuage! Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

“You know there’s something quite romantic about all this” Max says as he paces back and forth in front of you and Jake “tied up with your lover… about to meet your end together”

“The team are on their way now, you won’t get away with this” you warn him, straining against the rope that bound you to your chair.

“Oh I know, I’ve sent my goons to slow them down” Max hums as he stops turning to face you, picking at his nails “but they still won’t get here in time,” he says clapping his hands.

A few guards walk into the room carrying a large heavy box “where’d you want it boss?” They ask.

“Right in front of them, I don’t want any mistakes as to what it is” Max orders nodding to you and Jake, the guards nod walking over to you and Jake placing the box down with a heavy thud “careful idiots” Max chastises before waving for them to leave.

You and Jake exchanged a glance before looking back over at Max, watching as he walked over to the box and opened it to reveal a bomb “shit” you mutter under your breath.

Max smirks looking over at you “shit indeed, this is one of my newest toys and you guys are going to be my lab rats” he explains before chuckling as he shakes his head “there won’t even be anything left of you to scrape up”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming profanities at him, doing so would only make this worse.

“I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes” Max grins before walking out of the room.

“Shit, shit, shit” you mutter screwing your eyes shut.

“It's okay we’ll get out of here, we’ll be fine, just try and shuffle closer to me,” Jake says as he begins to try and scoot his chair closer to yours.

You take a shaky breath as you try and shuffle closer to Jake, the backs of your chairs finally meeting. Jake grabs your shaking hands to calm you down.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s gonna be okay, we’ll get out of here, I promise” he reassures you “I’m gonna untie you and then I need you to untie me”

You take another shaky breath nodding your head, breathing out a sigh of relief when you felt the rope around your wrist fall to the floor. You quickly untie the rope around your ankles before standing up and untying Jake.

“See? Now let's get out of here” Jake reassures you as he stands up.

Just as he says that you hear a loud beep, turning in its direction you see the bomb had been activated and you only had five minutes before it detonated.

“Fuck” Jake cursed under his breath.

“Can you disarm it?” You ask him.

“Not without my gear, we’re just gonna have to run for it,” Jake says shaking his head.

“Jake we’re in a tower a hundred meters tall, with thousands of steps, we aren’t gonna get far enough away in time,” you tell him.

Jake curses looking around the room before a smirk grows on his face “you’re right we’re gonna have to jump”

“What!” You screech staring at him bewildered as he picked up all the rope and a large piece of tarpaulin that was in the corner of the room “are you insane?”

“Maybe, but it’s all we got, I saw this in a spy movie so it should work,” he says as he starts tying the rope to the four corners of the tarpaulin.

“There isn’t a MythBusters episode on this is there?” You ask sceptically.

“Not that I’m aware of now c’mon we need to hurry,” Jake says gesturing for you to follow him “right I’m gonna tie this through our belt loops but hold on tight to me as well” he says threading a spare piece of rope around your waist.

“There’s no way I’m gonna let you go” you mutter as you wrap your arms around his shoulders “god I hope this works” you plead as Jake moves to two of you towards the window ready to jump.

“Trust me” Jake grins.

“Alright MacGyver, let's go” you sigh kissing him quickly just in case.

Jake smiles back at you before counting down from 3, the two of you jumping from the window. You free fall for a couple of seconds, long enough that you accept that you were about to die before finally the makeshift parachute begins to work and the two of you safely glide to freedom.

You landed with a heavy thud a hundred or so meters away from the towers just as the bomb goes off. Jake covering you just in case.

“Well shit… I didn’t expect that to work” you admit once it was all over.

“Me neither” he admits, chuckling when he saw the glare you gave him “but if there was a chance to save the woman I love, I was damn well gonna take it”

Your face softens as you smile warmly up at him “I love you too Jake, thank you for saving us”

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

[justicerikai]

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #79 Coming back

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

TL notes:

Bunch of goons refer to Fumiya as "aniki" (lit. older brother) which is a rank/title amongst delinquents and commonly yakuza. Due it being a yakuza-like thing, it's kept as this.

Let me know if I missed something!

Torahime: …! Can’t find them… I’m sorry Sensei, I’ll make work of it as soon as--

Nakagami: Yanagi-kun

Yanagi: Yessir

Torahime: Eeh!?

Nakagami: Any response from the Charisma Radar?

Yanagi: None, sir. They abruptly dropped off the map a little while ago. 

Nakagami: Where in the world did they go…! Those Charismas…!

---

(Loud noises)

(7 people running away)

Baddies: Dammnit! Get back here! I’mma kill ya!

Rikai: What is this place! There’s not an ounce of order!

Ohse: ???

Amahiko: Did you wake up, Ohse-san? Had any nice dreams on Amahiko’s back?

Terra: Amahiko watch out!

Amahiko: Oh

(Pipe hitting Terra in the head)

Terra: OW! DON’T dodge that!

Amahiko: Huh?

Terra: I said that to shield me from it because it was going to hit Terra-kun!

Amahiko: Waow

Fumiya: Ohse, sorry for waking you up so soon but we’re in big trouble

Sarukawa: RUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!!!!!!

Everyone: WAAA….!!

Ohse: This is…?

Iori: A lawless district♪

Ohse: Eh?

Iori: Saru-chan’s hometown!

-

Rikai: Nothing but delinquents around here! This is a culture shock for Rikai-oniisan!

Fumiya: Off with your head the moment you lower your guard, haha

Terra: Though the waves from the radar can’t reach this place, right?

Amahiko: Is that true? Sarukawa-kun

Sarukawa: Yea, this whole area’s being jammed 

Sarukawa: It’s impossible to get a peek from the outside in here

Iori: As if it’s extraterritorial♪

Rikai: T-to think that such places truly exist in this world…!!

Fumiya: They do, we're just none the wiser

-

Sarukawa: Got it? These lot ‘round here hate outsiders more than anything.

Sarukawa: Blend in well if ya don’t wanna get killed.

Everyone: ….

Fumiya: Got it

-

Ohse: Yaaah! Daah! Ey! Yaaa!

Ohse: Chooop!

Sarukawa: The hell ya doin’

Ohse: Battle training

Sarukawa: Hah?

Ohse: This shitty sore loser shall be a burden no longer

Ohse: Yaaa! D’oh! Eyeyeyey!

Ohse: Hwwuooaaaghhh!!!

Sarukawa: Quit it, yer standin’ out

Ohse: W-wuht’cha want. Got complaints, huh? 

Sarukawa: You suck ass at this

Ohse: Make fun of me and I’ll stab! Stab myself!

Sarukawa: HAAAH!? The fuck is this! Wait wait I don’t fuckin’ follow!

Sarukawa: OI! Stop it! Ghh!

Iori: Come at me! 

Sarukawa: Io too!? You definitely don’t got the chops for it! No way you pull this off!

Iori: Come now, kick my ass! Drag me around by these chains!

Iori: Without holding baaaaaaaack!!!!

Sarukawa: You’re just being an M

Iori: I’m not an M. 

Terra: Sarukawa-kun, are there any estheticians nearby?

Sarukawa: Hell no. Be a bit more aware of yourself

Sarukawa: The hell ya actin’ like usual for

Terra: What about beauty parlors? Nail salons? 

Sarukawa: As if there’d be such trendy places ‘round here!!!

Terra: Then I’ll make some

Sarukawa: Wait, wait! Don’t goddamn stand out!

Amahiko: Everyone, we must stay undercover

Sarukawa: WHOA! What the hell’s that fit! There were clothes like that ‘round here!?

Ohse: Pervert spotted

Iori: The fight is on!

(Bell rings and Iori, Ohse and Terra start ganging up on Amahiko)

Amahiko: Fufufu, hahaha. Think you stand a chance against Dirty Amahiko? 

Sarukawa: Siiiiiigh………

Fumiya: What’cha doing? It’s no good to stand out.

Sarukawa: Exactly!

-

Goons: Aniki! Fumiya Aniki!

Goons: What kinda bad shit we gotta do next?

Goons: Give us orders Aniki! Fumiya Aniki!

Sarukawa: AND WHERE DID YOU GET A BUNCH OF HENCHMEN BEHIND YA!

Fumiya: Go and overthrow the most powerful one in this town. 

Goons: YEAAAAAAAAH!!

Sarukawa: STOP STANDING OUUUUUUUT!!!

(Everyone having fun)

Sarukawa: You bastards….!

Sarukawa: Doing the fuck y’all want ‘cuz the radar can’t get yer asses…!!

Fumiya: Maaan~ This place’s pretty cool

Terra: Mhm, I like it

Amahiko: It’s wonderful, Sarukawa-kun

Sarukawa: ….Huh?

Terra: I can be free as I want

Iori: It’s nice how nobody bats an eye at you

Ohse: I can be at peace…

Fumiya: S’interesting, and fun

(Everyone having fun again)

Sarukawa: ….

Amahiko: Sarukawa-kun? Where are you headed off to?

Terra: Wait a sec

Everyone: ….

-

Sarukawa: ….

Amahiko: “So he’s a truant?”

Iori: “...Yeah, pretty much never went to school.”

Iori: “Didn’t fit in because of all of the trouble he caused.”

Amahiko: “Which is why he ended up going back and forth to such a place, then.”

Iori: “Yeah.”

Iori: “You could tell how much he enjoyed being here by the look in his eyes.”

Amahiko: “But… he left at some point, no?”

Iori: “Mhm.”

Amahiko: “Why though, after he finally found a place to belong to.”

Amahiko: “Just what happened here…”

Iori: “That’s…”

(rattling)

Sarukawa: !? Who’s there!

?: ….

Sarukawa: I know you’re there, show yourself

Sarukawa: ….! …Y…you’re…!

Ryuu: ….Kei-niichan.

Sarukawa: Ryuu…!

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

Reflecting - Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

With the gun still held in his hand, Johnny stood slightly behind the guard, waiting for Casares or his people to come out of the mansion. He kept his eyes mainly on the front door, but also glanced up at the many windows facing him. Their plan seemed quite foolish now, his one gun against who knows how many armed goons lurking about. Johnny tried to put the thought out of his mind, concentrating on what he had to do here and now.

The front door of the mansion finally did open, and the bald guard was the first one outside, his own pistol sweeping the scene before him. Two other guards followed, but Casares himself did not venture out.

The bald man, Carlos, took in the sight before him: the BMW parked yet idling, the guard he had sent to retrieve the books held at gunpoint by one of the annoying antique store people.

Silently, Carlos cursed his boss. He had suggested doing away with everyone from the store, but Raphael had ignored him, laughing off Carlos’ warning that these people were not mundane antique dealers. And, as usual, the boss was wrong. These people had been nothing but trouble.

Johnny waved at him with his free hand while keeping the gun aimed at the driver.

“Hey, baldy. I think maybe it’s time we had a little chat about you and your goons visiting our shop, armed with toys like these.” Johnny said, raising the gun a little.

Carlos laughed. This man was either very brave or very foolish. His experience leaned towards the latter. “What do you want?” he asked, standing on the last marble step before the gravel drive. The idling BMW was across the way, on the other side of the fountain that stood in the center of the driveway, between him and the armed antiques dealer.

“What do I want?” Johnny yelled loudly. “Not much, really. I want you and your associates to stay away from ‘Curious Goods’. I want our friend, Jack Marshak, out here, safe and sound. And hey, why not throw in all the stuff you stole from us, as well. Sounds pretty reasonable to me.” The words were filled with a confidence Johnny was definitely not feeling at the moment. He had the sensation of a hundred eyes watching him, from every window in the mansion.

Carlos nodded. “Well, that is quite an impressive list of demands. And what do you offer in exchange for such generosity on our part?”

Johnny indicated the gun he still had leveled at the guard he had driven here with. “I think that is pretty obvious, don’t you?” he said, looking directly at the bald man.

“Ah, I see.” Carlos said. “We are to give in to your demands or you will shoot him. Forgive me, but I find it highly unlikely that a simple shop owner such as yourself can be a heartless killer.”

Johnny felt a bit of the balance shifting now, and his confidence eroded even further. He wondered how long he should keep stalling, how much time Micki and Ryan would need inside the mansion.

“Look, all we want is our friend, safe and sound, no questions asked.” Johnny said. “We will go our way, you can go your way and we can forget this ever happened.”

From behind the bald man came laughter. Raphael Casares stepped out of the house and slowly walked down the marble stairs, stopping one step behind Carlos.

“The death of the boy’s mother is nothing to you, then?” Casares asked Johnny. “You and your friends won’t feel a need to avenge her, a need for justice?”

Johnny didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. His eyes shifted from Casares to Carlos and back. He wondered if they could see the sweat beading on his forehead as he stood there.

“Carlos, I think this man has miscalculated.“ Casares spoke, this time addressing his right-hand man, standing next to him, his gun still drawn. “Mr. Marshak is worth far more to me at this moment than some guard whose name escapes me. Why don’t you remove his only bargaining chip, hmm?”

Before Johnny could speak or react, the bald man had raised his gun and fired.

Johnny expected pain but felt nothing. Instantly, he knew why. The guard he had been using as leverage dropped hard to his knees on the coarse gravel before falling over onto his side. Johnny knew the man was dead.

Luckily, this move had been anticipated by Rashid before they left the store. The mystic had predicted the lack of regard Casares had for his employees, and suggested a back-up plan.

It was then that Johnny noticed the other two guards, the ones who had come out of the house with the bald man earlier. They had each slowly circled the driveway and now were coming in close to Johnny. Quickly regaining his composure, Johnny swung the arm that held the gun in the direction of the idling BMW and aimed at a spot only he could see from this side of the car.

The gravel there beneath the car was wet with gasoline. Before leaving the store, Johnny had made the smallest hole in the gas line. Not enough to drain the tank before they made it to Casares’ mansion, but enough that, once the car sat idling long enough, would give him the impact he wanted.

Johnny fired the gun at the gas-soaked rocks. The spark from the ricocheting bullet ignited the gasoline, which in turn ignited the entire fuel tank. The BMW exploded almost instantly.

Johnny, knowing what was about to happen, had enough time to cover his face and turn away. The approaching guards did not and both were now close enough to feel the full brunt of the blast. They went down fast, one smashing his head into the marble fountain as he fell.

Metal from the car and gravel from the driveway flew in every direction. Carlos, who wasn’t as close to the explosion as the others, raised his arm to protect his head and face. Some piece of debris connected with him, tearing open a gash nearly the full length of his forearm. His scream was only drowned out by a second, smaller explosion from the burning car.

Raphael Casares, however, remained unharmed, having used the bulk that was Carlos as a shield during the two explosions. Once the wounded man dropped down to his knees, bleeding profusely, Raphael had stumbled back onto the marble stairs, practically crawling his way up them.

Dropping his gun, Carlos held his torn-up arm with the other. He looked back as his boss retreated away from him. The pain searing his mind, he called out to him. “Raphael, please, help me!”

Raphael shook his head, unable to comprehend the scene playing out before him. He turned and ran, disappearing inside the mansion.

“Raphael, you bastard!” Carlos screamed after him.

Just then, Johnny ran up and kicked the gun Carlos had dropped, sending it across the gravel driveway. “Sorry about all this, man.” he said to the wounded guard. “Ouch! You might want to get that looked at.” he said, indicating the man’s profusely bleeding arm.

Carlos attempted to get to his feet, but the intense pain stopped him short. The BMW burning behind him, he remained askew on the marble stairs, helplessly watching as Johnny ran up the rest of the stairs and into the mansion.