#The news covers the shows; the victims have to hear about it because everyone watches the news. Rinse and repeat.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Wanting to look at true crime stuff to learn about psychology and criminal investigation but only finding a bunch of people who idolize and “uwu-ify” serial killers and school shooters 😬 fucking YIKES

[jackiepackiee]

Hear me out. What if one day Chuuya finds out that the reader was also experimented on.

TW:scars, leaked information, trauma

Chuuyax reader

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝐸𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝓁𝒶𝒷 𝒶𝒷𝓊𝓈𝑒

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

Chuuya is DEVASTATED

How come his sweet and gentle lover has been hurt

He would take every ounce of pain from you into himself if given the chance

And his initial reaction, however he found out, will be hard to stomach

He’s in shock

“No… no no that’s not true. You had that good childhood, and you’ve been treated good by everyone. Just like you deserve, right? Right?”

Wide eyes traveled the room mindlessly. His brain was too occupied by thoughts to see anything beyond patches of color and light.

It was obvious what was going on in his head.

First, his experience. What he knows of the pain that still cause shakes and shivers in his body. The absolute mental devastation caused by the storm in his heart and mind from knowing his past.

Secondly, he sees you in the same position. Screaming, blood over your plush skin. Eyes dazed, far away from the world around you. Whatever world you may have been in that allowed you to be treated so poorly. Because if you had gotten hurt, it must’ve been a world Chuuya wasn’t part of.

“Right?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry? No, fuck. Don’t be sorry, don’t you dare say that.”

In a split second he crossed the distance and pulled you into his chest.

“I’ll kill them all.”

Of course he would lie down his life for you, but this information increases that tenfold

You’re not fragile, that much is obvious, but after learning how close you were to death he strives for your life

Whatever it takes

“Chuuya, I do not need a bodyguard. It’s just down the block! And this boy needs a walk anyways!”

The dog barked in agreement, sorta. But Chuuya would not budge. No puppy eyes work on him when it comes to your safety.

“No. You can talk him on the walk, and go to the market. But one of my subordinates is going with you. I have some emails to write.”

“But!”

“No buts, love. It’s for your own good.”

He pet the doggies head while speaking sternly to you. Little did you know, it wasn’t just one subordinate. He had a whole team on your saftey detail at all times outside of work and home.

And if those scientists are still alive?

Not anymore… it will be a MASSACRE that the news will cover for months

“Hey baby, did you see the news this morning?”

You asked, on a whim as you scribbled a shitty signature on some paperwork.

“No, why?”

“Some old facilities blew up. It was crazy. Reports said none of the victims died in the explosion. They all died by these terrible and violent ways. Like torture and stuff… gives me the chills.”

That was his cause, you. The cute way you told him about every little thing you heard. The funny actions you do to make show of your words.

All his to watch, and not theirs to ruin.

“No baby, I didn’t hear about that. How interesting.”

I hate to bring it up, but it makes him feel worse about himself

How can you, someone who went through the same as him, still be so kind?

Why isn’t he like you?

He doesn’t see himself as sweet or gentle, he’s a monster and a threat to everyone he loves

And he thinks he lacks the humanity that you “still have” that allowed you to grow so kind

You stalked into the bedroom, tense at the fact that the door was closed. He usually would leave it open?

“Chuu? I saw your shoes at the door, I know you’re home-”

There he was, his ginger hair on full display. Hat in his hands to his chest. Said chest on his knees, curled into a ball of black clothing.

His torso expanded and contracted with each exchange of air.

“…was it work? Meetings with Mori su-”

Words failed. Minuscule things such as meetings at work would cause this. Would cause Chuuya Nakahara to cry.

“You weren’t supposed to be home.”

“…what?”

“You weren’t supposed to be home. I was supposed to be alone, and… and I- I dunno.”

Whines left his mouth when you kissed his cheek.

As if Judas to Jesus, he burned at your affection. Unworthy of something so…human.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Living, and loving. That’s what you’ve done.”

This isnt meant to be spicy, but sex is sex 🤷🏻‍♀️

And obviously if you’re going to be doing that, he’ll see your scars

For a couple who both has their fair share of scars, this likely isn’t the way the experiments were revealed

It takes a hell of a lot of trust to show yourself so vulnerable to anyone

But he loves each indent

He sees not the pain, but the growth then on

When you cuddle, he’ll get dazed and start rubbing circles on section of skin

Doesn’t mind them at all, even if they are dark and large

He has the same, and is no hypocrite

Not proofread lol

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴠᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: male OC tries to assault reader, short scuffle between reader and OC, attempted sexual assault (but nothing actually happens), poor living conditions, slowly creeping into the hesitant friends arc!!, panic attacks, very brief suicidal ideations Word Count: 4.6k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

A couple days have gone by since your meeting with the heroes and the Hero Commission’s worker. You still haven’t come to a clear decision yet, but granted, this is a big decision and its not just one that you can make over night. 

As you head home from your job, you try to weigh the pros and cons of rebranding as a hero. For one, you’d probably make more money and be able to afford your apartment. You wouldn’t have to sneak around so much, and you’d probably get a lot more respect and credit when walking amongst people, and not just in online spaces.

But…who’s to say the rest of society will accept you? In hero society, being a vigilante is illegal. You know that if you accept the conditions of rebranding, then your crimes will be forgiven, but for the rest of your career, you’ll be under strict watch. What’s the point of saving people if you have to be monitored the whole time?

A lot of those who have become victims themselves, or had been saved by you, respected what you did and how you went about it. But so, so many, including heroes and the government and police alike, hated you. Not because of what you stood for, that most didn’t know or didn’t care to know, but because you were targeting men. Its not like those men were innocent, but due diligence and the whole concept of “judge, jury, and executioner” really turned people off from you. 

If you did accept, how would other heroes see you? Would they find new respect for you, after hearing your story? Or would they only condemn you to being a vigilante, someone who should’ve never been forgiven? 

How would Miruko see you? Would she respect you, and what you’ve become? Would she still carry the same disdain she shows on the news? 

What would become of you, if you let the Red Medusa lay forever forgotten in the streets, and become someone new? Should you bring up your vigilante days, or do you let the news dig it all up and find out when you start flourishing as a hero? Do you keep the gap between victim and hero empty, or would you have to spill it all to everyone?

The thoughts overwhelm you, and you find yourself in front of your door before you know it. You drop your keys twice, and by the time you finally unlock your door, someone clearing their throat interrupts you. Your head whips around to find your landlord standing a few feet beside you with his hands tucked into his jeans. 

He’s a younger guy, which was a surprise when you first met him. You thought all landlords looked like sewer rats with greasy hair and a creepy aura. This landlord, Mr. Riku only exudes one of those things—creepiness. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your rent, sweetheart.” Mr. Riku nods his head to you, and you bristle at the name. 

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” You snap at him, keeping your hand locked on your doorknob, the other holding a pocket knife tight in the front of your hoodie. Mr. Riku rolls his eyes at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he laughs. 

“Ah, right. Trauma, and shit.” He says flippantly, making a face that you think is supposed to disarm you and make you laugh with him. You don’t. You stare at him for a minute, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take all of him in. 

“What do you want?” You bark when he stands there staring at you for too long. Every time you talk to him, you feel like you’re going to emerge out of the conversation covered in slime weighing you down. 

“You’re three months behind on rent. I should evict you.” He singsongs, twisting his mouth as he leans against the wall beside your door. 

“So why don’t you?” You sneer at him, all bite and sharp teeth that he ignores to instead clean invisible dirt from under his nails. 

“It would be a shame to lose such a pretty face in my building, you know? I’d miss it.” Mr. Riku looks up at you from under white haired bangs, grinning something evil that makes your stomach churn and your chest tighten. Before you can say anything, he’s slinking his way inside of your apartment through your open door, coming in before you can stop him. 

“The fuck are you doing?” You shout at him, hand tightening on the pocket knife as you flip it open inside your pocket. You really don’t wanna slice up your landlord and get into actual non-vigilante trouble for this, but you’re starting to fall into fight or flight mode. Right now, he’s one of the men who’s hurt you, and you refuse to be a victim again. 

“I own the building, sweetheart.” Mr. Riku says snootily, walking into your living room, violating it with his yuck. “I’m entitled to come into each and every unit when I damn so please.” He looks around the place, holding up a shirt you left on the couch and sniffing it blatantly in your face. 

You cringe at that, heart rate picking up as you take a step to him, frozen in your spot when he suddenly appears in front of you again. He reaches a hand out to your own that’s still in your pocket, and you finally find it in you to move, snatching away as you stumble into the still ajar door. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You growl at him, though your voice shakes much more than you’d like. Usually, when facing off with creepy men like this, they don’t know who you are, can’t hang your living situation over your head, don’t know your connections to a high ranking hero who paid for you to live here.. 

“I have an offer for you, that I can’t let the other neighbors hear.” Mr. Riku whispers, inching closer to you until his nose damn near brushes yours. 

You jerk back, one hand still gripping the knife, the other curling up into a fist at your side. If he attacks, you can either cut him or punch him, but that might not be enough. You might have to get your gun strapped to your hip, even though you’re sure that it’ll be too loud and alert the neighbors. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing. 

“Which is?” You reply back, calculating his next move as much as you can, trying to keep your head leveled. 

“I’ll extend your stay here. But you have to treat me right in return.” Mr. Riku mutters, hands—creepy, disgusting, too bony, too long, too veiny hands—reaching out to cup your chest. Before he can, you swing your fist, nailing him directly in the jaw, sending him crashing into your bookshelf next to your front door. A few books fall on him, and you stand above him, heart racing at the thought of what he just tried to do to you. 

“Fuck you, you fucking pig.” You spit at him, voice cracking as he moans in pain. You pick up your bag, kicking him between the legs once as hard as you can before you finally dart out into the hallway. 

From there, you run and run and run until your legs take you to a safe place, heart in your throat all the while. You don’t think you can breathe; you don’t think you took a single breath the entire way there until you found your back against a familiar door, gasping in the musky air of the warehouse. 

Nobody seems to be here, as all the lights are off and its quieter than it usually is. You call out Vanity’s name, expecting for at least her to be there, but nobody answers you. You feel rooted to your place at the door, eyes welling with tears as your shaking hands hold tightly onto your bag. You can’t move—have your limbs always been weighed down so heavily by lead? Has your heartbeat always been so loud in your ears?

After what feels like hours, do you slowly start sinking down onto the hard, cold floor beneath you. Your fingers are warm and clammy when you finally let go of the bag, to instead wrap your arms around your figure. You take a breath, and then another, before the sobs start to wrack your body, heavy and loud and ugly, shaking and screeching, angry and full of—of, rage, fear, terrifying, body consuming fear. 

Your eyes burn with every blink, your chest getting too tight, you don’t think you can muster anymore breath inside of your lungs. You can’t move, you can’t move, you can’t move. 

A shadow emerges from the steps in the back corner, and you think that this might be the end for you. Maybe it should be—you won’t have to fight anymore, you won’t have to suffer. You won’t be such a pain in the ass for Dynamight anymore. 

But instead, you’re greeted with an emerald green eyepatch and a golden, glowing eye. Vanity. 

She says something to you, but your ears feel like they’re filled with cotton. She crouches in front of you, waving a hand in front of your face, but your eyes have been unseeing for a while now. So she holds you, close to her chest, gathers you up in her arms like a mother would, and she holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder. 

You two stay like that for what feels like days, before your tears have slowed to trickles down your cheeks, and your sobs have dissipated into quiet little hiccups. You don’t know when you started holding her back, but your hands grip her shirt, and you belatedly realize that she’s wearing her usual pajamas. 

“Sorry for waking you,” you croak out, throat dry and scratchy. Vanity leans back to fix you with a frown, and you notice that her own eye holds tears. 

“Don’t apologize. I heard my girl crying, and what kind of best friend would I be to not comfort her?” She reassures you, wiping away the few stray tears that still fall down your face. You smile wobbly at her, before planting your head in her chest again. She’s warm, and holds you close to her with her arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, stroking your hair. She lets you stay like that for a few more minutes, before she speaks,

“Can I ask what happened?” Her voice is tiny in the big, spacious room. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share.” You sit with her question hanging in the air, trying to gather the words in your mouth to spit out. 

“Creepy, shitty landlord.” Is all you can muster up. It’s enough though, as she only hums in acknowledgement, muttering, 

“It’s always creepy, shitty landlords, ain’t it?” You can hear her smile when you start to laugh against her skin, finally pulling back to look at her. Her cheeks are tear-stained, and you wonder if she can cry from an empty socket. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” She asks, helping you to your feet. 

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur, with Vanity helping you to the shower, lending you some clothes since you didn’t have anything clean in your bag, and fixing you up something quick and easy to eat. You two are quiet in the empty warehouse, and you fall asleep next to her on the cot in her room. It’s uncomfortable sharing such a small space, but at least you know you’re safe. 

…

Things went by uneventfully when you “broke” into your apartment to get some extra clothes and other necessities with Vanity. After that though, you’ve stayed in the warehouse full time. It’s not the most ideal living situation though, long term, since there’s no Wi-Fi and it interferes with your connection to the outside world and possible villain activity going on. Also, there’s no hot water, nor is there a fully functioning kitchen besides a microwave. 

This hideaway was only supposed to be for temporary usage—running away from the cops, needing to get stitched up, some extra ammo, a safe place to sleep for a few nights. 

Not for two weeks. Once your higher ups started asking questions about your performance after a few patients expressed their worry about your near constant zombie-like state, you realized that you had to find another solution. (You think its the consistent cold showers that really did you in. Miruko spoiled you with such a nice place.) 

You finally decide to swallow your pride, grumbling all the while as you stand behind the warehouse, holding your phone up high to the sky. 

[ You , sent at 8:49pm ]

hey asshole, its trm. got a minute to chat? 

[ Dynamight , sent at 8:52pm ]

yeah, only took you three years to text me

what?

[ You , sent at 8:55pm ]

you're even ruder over text

I need a favor, but don’t expect anything in return 

[ Dynamight , sent at 8:57pm ]

Never. 

[ You , sent at 8:58pm ]

got some housing issues going on rn. do you have any recs for low rent apartments in the area?

[ Dynamight , sent at 9:00pm ]

Ur shitting bricks if you think you can get something low in this neighborhood

[ You , sent at 9:05pm ]

thanks for the fucking help then

[ Dynamight , sent at 9:06pm ]

got a spare room at my place tho?

[ You , sent at 9:06pm ]

And what the fuck does that mean?

“What the fuck does that mean, Dynamight?” You immediately call him before the text can even send through, heart in your throat, your breathing heavy. Dynamight answers on the second ring, and grunts at your loud tone this late at night. 

“What else would it mean?” He asks, voice disinterested as he yawns on the other end of the line. “I gotta spare room at my place, if you wanna crash.” He offers up like its the most casual thing a person could ever do. You’re silent on the other line as you let his words sink in, eyebrows furrowing as your gaze unfocuses on the thicket of trees in front of you. 

Why would he offer up his place to you? Is he looking for something in return? Would he take advantage of you? What if the fucker had some kind of freaky room where he could tie you up and do whatever freaky shit repressed heroes do? You bite at your lip, mind reeling, as you form your mouth to reject his offer.  

“Look, not to be an intrusive dumbass but—” Dynamight speaks up after a long stretch of silence. 

“You are.” You cut him off, listening to him grunt on the other end of the line. 

“Shuddup.” You can practically hear the frown in his voice before he continues. “But I see Miruko hooked you up at a shelter near the apartment you were staying at, and its pretty close to where I’m at. If you don’t wanna take an hour commute to get there because you gotta stay in some shitty apartment, then you could come crash with me.” 

He’s too fucking nonchalant for you, to be offering up something so hugely important. You just don’t get it, you think, as you exhale, one hand gripping your phone tightly and the other gripping the roots of your hair. 

“And why would you do that?” You ask him in the tiniest whisper you can muster, brain struggling to figure out why someone like him would offer his space to someone like you. 

“The fuck? I just explained why.” Dynamight grunts confusedly on the other end, and you can damn near see his thick brows scrunching in confusion.  

“No, I mean why you?” You ask desperately, hands starting to tremor as you speak through your teeth. “Why are you offering up your place for me to live? We don’t even know each other, much less like each other.” Your voice, quiet, shaking under the weight of the words. Dynamight is silent for a few seconds before he retorts, 

“We’d have to know each other to dislike each other.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You snap at him, back straightening as if he could see you. He goes silent for a few beats, formulating the right words in his head before he talks quietly into the mic. 

“Call this a gesture of good faith.” He states, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ve intruded on your life a fuckton these past weeks, trying to rope you into hero life, ‘nd all that, so I wanna offer up something that means a lot to me. Even playing field, and shit.”

You fall silent, mulling over his words, everything that could go wrong if you were to put your trust into a hero, a man. He could hurt you. He could get away with it, easily. He could paint you out to be the crazy one, the problem. 

But…he could help you. You would never need a man’s help but—Dynamight, in all of your interactions, never seemed like the type of scummy guys you frequently punished. He felt genuine, in a sense, firm but not too pushy. And maybe—maybe you could trust him. Just a little bit. 

He hasn’t turned you into the police or to Hero Commission (yet?). You guess the guy couldn’t be all bad. 

“I’m not taking any fuckin’ handouts.” You snap at him after a minute of silence. You can hear him chuckle on the other end before fabric starts ruffling in the background. 

“Not a handout, dumbass. Just letting you borrow some shit for the time being.” He shrugs, and you swear you hear him yawn once. You frown, kicking up some branches that lay fallen at your feet. 

“I’ll pay rent.” You mutter to him. 

“No shit you’re paying rent.” Dynamight snorts, barely giving you a second to even offer. Shit head. 

“Okay. Text me your address.” You go to pull your phone away to hang up, interrupted by his voice calling out on the other end. 

“You’re coming now? I was about to go to bed.” He grumbles. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, pulling the phone away from your ear to check the time. 

“The fuck? It’s not even 9:30 yet, you old fart.” You poke at him, listening to his annoyed mumbling on the other side. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Dynamight says with no real malice. “Call me when you’re outside.” He hangs up before you can say another word, and sends his address through to you only seconds later. 

You look up at the sky before going back inside, gaze focused on the full moon and the cloudless skies, and wonder how the hell you’re gonna tell Vanity that you're moving in with a male pro hero. You decide that the best way to tell her, is by not telling her face to face at all. 

Before you leave, you write a note left on your cot for her to find. You know she’s not going to be happy about this, but you have to put yourself first every once in a while. 

…

“Well you look like shit.” Is the first thing you tell Dynamight when he opens the door to his apartment. He’s frowning at you, with half of his ash blond mane flattened on one side, his tank top twisted at the neck a little, his sweatpants low on his hips, and his feet bare. He looks like you’ve just woken him up. 

“Fuck off,” he mutters, yawning before he turns on his heel to walk back inside. You follow, albeit hesitantly, afraid that something or someone might be wanting for you around the corner, ready to attack. But you take off your shoes, and pad into the living room, and it looks like no boogeymen are plotting on snatching you before you can even scream. 

Dynamight stands behind the couch with his hands on his hips, a sleepy little frown on his face as he looks at you. He gestures to the open layout of his place, voice a deep grumble in his throat. 

“Living room. Tv remote there,” he points to the coffee table before hooking his thumb behind him. “Kitchen—don’t eat my fuckin’ protein bars.” He points at you next and you only sneer at him. He tries to match your look but he’s too sleepy to keep up, so he only turns on his heel again before guiding you down a long hallway. 

“Did you fall asleep already? We just hung up like, thirty minutes ago.” You ask him, frowning when it takes more effort than you’d like to keep up with his long legs. 

“Shut it. I thought I was gonna stay up, but ‘m fuckin’ exhausted.” Dynamight grunts at you, sidestepping at a door across from what looks like the bathroom. You peer inside, hiking your heavy book bag up higher on your shoulder. Dynamight goes to take it without warning, and you instinctively grab it back, head whipping up to stare at him in confusion. He scrunches his face up before shaking his head at you. 

“Sorry. Looks heavy, and I was gonna put it down for you.” His voice is small, and he folds his arms across his chest. You blink up at him for a few seconds, taking a few breaths to calm your suddenly racing heart before you drop the bag into his barely ready hands. He grunts at the weight of it, tired face surprised at how much you’ve stuffed inside. 

“This my room?” You ask him, ignoring his question of how many bodies you’ve packed in there, to walk inside the new space. 

It’s big. Entirely so, almost as big as your whole apartment from before. There’s a deep marooned carpet covering the floor, the walls a muted gray, with cream colored black out curtains covering the windows. The bed looks too big for just you to sleep in, decorated with more gray and cream sheets. Four pillows sit against a wooden headboard, and a small circular decorative one sits in the middle. There’s a purple throw blanket at the end of the bed that doesn’t match anything, but you see that its knitted, and you wonder why someone like Dynamight owns something so soft. 

There’s a TV in front of the bed, and a small couch at the end of it. A closet on one side of the room, open and empty, the other wall decorated with a wooden dresser pressed against it. The room is beautiful and so…un-Dynamight. 

“Why’s the bed so big?” Is the only thing you can muster up, shocked at how nice the room really is. Dynamight grunts at that, and you think it might’ve actually been a chuckle. He enters the room, setting your bag on the cream couch and letting you enter, before he stands back at the doorway again. 

“‘Cause I’m a big guy, with some big friends who like to invite themselves over and get too fuckin’ drunk to go home.” Dynamight leans against the doorsill with his arms crossed over his chest, yawning at the end of his sentence. His eyes are so low, and droopy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his quirk was actually being half lion. If you tilt your head enough, you’re sure you’d see some fluffy ears hidden in the mane of his hair. 

You look away, realizing you’ve been staring as you run your hand over the soft blanket. You look back to him, almost as if in question, but he only blinks at you. You’re quiet for a while, taking everything in. 

“Bathrooms across the hall, too. It’s all yours, since I have my own in my room.” Dynamight tells you, head jerking back to across the hall. Your eyes flicker behind him before landing on him again, feeling something warm starting to light up your chest. 

“Thank you, Dynamight.” You whisper to him, voice tiny, as you awkwardly fold your arms over your chest. You hate feeling so meek, so in debt, so needy. But he doesn’t seem to take advantage of it, rolling his eyes as he pushes off the wall. 

“We’re roommates now. Call me Bakugou.” He tells you, voice firm. You want to be an asshole and come up with some smart remark, but you can’t seem to find any. So you nod at him, once, and give him your last name, too. He smiles a tiny little smile at that before a yawn breaks his face again. He backs up from your door with a small wave, nodding to you. 

“We can discuss rent and shit in the morning. Get some sleep.” He tells you, going to turn his back before you speak up as you start unzipping your bag to pull out some pajamas. 

“I could say the same to you.” You call out to him, watching his eyebrow quirk in surprise. 

“So say it.” He nods his chin to you, slowly walking backwards to his own room. You bristle at that though, shoulders hiking up to your ears as you flip him the bird, something you’re really starting to like doing to him. 

“Fuck off.” You snap at him, no real malice in your tone. Dynamight—Bakugou, laughs at that, before turning on his heel to enter his room. He closes it without another look and you feel yourself release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. 

So what now? You think to yourself, your eyes falling to the pajamas you’re tightly holding before glancing up to the bathroom. 

Now—a hot shower. 

The bathroom is just as big as your room, with the same maroon-grey-cream color scheme going on. He’s even got some decorative towels in here, and it makes you wonder if someone did all of this for him, or if he did it himself. Either way, it doesn’t matter much when the hot water is all you really came for. 

You go on about your nightly routine without further preamble, stiffening every time you hear a bump in the loft. You keep your gun close to you, even seating it on the toilet as you shower and brush your teeth. But nothing happens, and you dart quickly into your room, locking it behind you the moment you’re safe. 

You check the closet, behind the door, and under your bed, and find nothing thankfully. You let yourself breathe for the first time in a long time, as you sit on the side of the bed in your pajamas. You won’t stay here long, you muse over with yourself. Just use his Wi-Fi and shower and oven until you can find a reasonable place to live, even if you have to start taking extra shifts at your job, even if it means having to do less vigilante work. 

This is only temporary, you tell yourself as you lay back in bed, pulling up the purple blanket until it reaches your chin. You don’t want to get under the bed covers—it’ll signify that you’ll overstay your welcome. You can’t stay long. You can’t. 

You don’t sleep much the first night, watching the door all night long, anticipating someone to try the doorknob. It’s left alone the entire time, and only when the sunlight rises, do you finally rest your eyes and let sleep take you. 

chapter six

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[billyboyblue]

Hiii! 💛

I'm back on duty and I'm here to tickle the collective fandom brain.

With Presumed Innocent coming out soon (aaaah), I would just like to hear all your thoughts on Rusty. 

Is he guilty? If so, would we still do unholy things with him (duh, obviously)? Or is he just an innocent little guy and only guilty of cheating and murdering pussy? He obviously likes being choked and I'm not complaining. What else might he like? Is he a pancakes or bacon/scrambled egg breakfast kinda guy? He does need his protein tho, for several reasons... 👀

Please let me/us know all your thoughts and hopes for the new show and the character we're blessed with this summer, thank youuuu.

Paying my Rusty tax for inspiration ✨

Hi there hi!! Thank you so much for asking dude that's so considerate of you, I'm smiling like a loon whenever I see a little ditty about Jake going around 😊.

Oh yeah, so Rustholomew Jones Sabich the third is a full on useless man. And he expressed it multiple times in so many ways. The first thing we see is him looking for his phone first thing in the morning. What a dumb thing for a cheating man to do, lose his phone even in his own home. And then he asks someone to call it and it's his daughter that does so. Even for a little joke all I saw was chekovs gun.

Okay so I got insanely curious about the original after Jake's recent interview and watched it tonight and gosh yeah I'd recommend if you haven't seen it for Harrison's voice of nothing else, but in the movie there's a segment where he, Sabich, spells out the prosecutor's theory on himself and it's exactly what everyone sees in the new version. A jealous man driven mad with love and obsession pushed too far when left for another man. It's basically what's teased in the new trailer.

But what's different is the circumstances of the wife's role. I have 3 very specific moments I want to focus in on, this one:

The two times Rusty and Barbara look to each other with smiles on their faces and in the worst circumstances. One while on trial in front of the family and the other while presumably blowing up his mistress' phone on family night. One thing that immediately came to mind was huh. That's weird. Then this

Here she's saying that He and Her will fight to save their family. And he's puppydogging along as culpable as all hell doing his due repentance to save his family. As he should but also as he has no other choice because I believe that the murderer is his daughter or son. I'm leaning towards daughter as she didn't exist in the movie, she's an added layer to the plot directly drawn attention to 3 separate times in the trailer.

So what I think happens is this. Carolyn and Rusty begin their affair and it goes south, my instinct is something happens between Rusty's phone, his daughter and Carolyn to cause the strife. On the night Rusty texts her 30 times the daughter is there confronting Carolyn and struggle maybe?

Either way Carolyn is dead the daughter is responsible and now Rusty and Barbara have to close ranks. Rusty poses her in like a victim in a prior case to throw the cops off the trail.

To shine a bright suspicious spotlight on Rusty. To make it look like a multitude of things. It could be a prior killer seeking to mess with authorities and Rusty; it could be someone framing Him with the case they began their affair during; it could be rusty himself messing with the crime scene to mess with motive, (something the prosecution accuses him of doing in the movie). But really it's all a red herring to cover for his daughter and falling on the sword one way or the other. Either covering up a murder he's responsible for to protect his daughter or go to jail for a crime he didn't commit for his daughter.

I won't spoil the movie or who the killer is in it but hoo boy does it hit hard with an ending monologue and epilogue. I definitely wouldn't be surprised if the modernizing done was from the murderers standpoint. Either way I'm hoping for a good mystery over audience subversions.

There's something about pathetic men and the power trips they go on when they think they've found a space they can lose all the tie ups and inhibitions and insecurities. The euphoric rushes that come with secrets and taboo midnight confessions, panted and whined and gasped into a lovers mouth. The stinging ache of shame that splatters across his chest and cheeks as he's tied up and torn into like a present for a greedy hand make him feel that same warmth he used to get from being a good man and husband.

The sharp hatred and ragged words he fucks into Carolyn's more than accepting places feel like a balm on his soul. Not just the filthy things he says to her, or the shapes he folds her into, or the marks only he can leave are enough for men like him. They eat their obsession whole. Consume them to fill up all the hollow places they themselves carved into their life.

And that's what some men do. Use up the women in their lives in every way, stealing their life force ala Gone Girl like @ Stephendorff mentioned. It'd be beautiful poetry if after discarding his wife for Carolyn, and Carolyn for his daughter, that he pays that price.

But that's just a theory a game- no, no it's too soon. Sorry matpat it's too raw. Thanks you again Daphne! Hope I didn't let ya down and you liked the theory lolol😅

[spocks-kaathyra]

Cheesy little self-indulgent Pythas sickfic outline with no meaningful plot or character development, just him bantering w Elim. Wanted to give u guys a glimpse of the ooc fluff that's rotting my brain at all times

Pythas wakes up one morning with a cough and Nal is overconcerned as always and tries to convince him to go to the hospital but he brushes her off and says that he will if it gets more serious. She relents but keeps fussing over him. At the next Reunion Project meeting, everyone notices Pythas coughing even though he tries to hide it, and Kelas insists that Pythas come to the hospital for a checkup after the meeting, because smoke inhalation can cause long-term damage that makes burn victims more susceptible to complications from respiratory infections (idk if this is medically true but it seems logical to me). So Kelas examines him and it’s basically just a cold but just in case, he should take it easy until the cough clears and come back for a followup in a week. Kelas sends him home with some cough medicine and instructions to rest and drink lots of water. Elim hears from Kelas that it’s nothing serious, but he still visits Pythas the next day. Nal is out getting groceries or something, and when Elim knocks no one answers. He waits a minute, then breaks in using his super spy skills. Elim walks into Pythas’s bedroom and finds Pythas sitting up in bed. Pythas smiles, checks the time on his tablet, and remarks that it only took Elim 15 minutes—they’ll have to replace their lock to give him more of a challenge next time. Elim huffs incredulously. “It would’ve taken even less time if you had just let me in!” Pythas shrugs. “I didn’t feel like getting out of bed.” His tone is lighthearted, but Elim notices how his voice is rougher than usual. Elim sits on the edge of Pythas’s bed to show him what he’s brought. A few books—“Since you have nothing better to do, I thought you might finally read that book I’ve been recommending.” Pythas doesn’t really like to read, and says as much. Elim insists that Pythas would like this book if only he gave it a chance, and starts to extoll its virtues before Pythas stops him with a noncommittal promise to read it. Elim shakes his head with mock disappointment. “I’ll never understand how you passed First-Level Cardassian Literature.” Pythas smiles that mocking smile and asks what else Elim brought. It’s a tupperware of soup—something herbal-smelling and murky-looking. Elim explains that it’s a Hebitian folk remedy, something that his father—Tolan, not Tain—used to make for him whenever he was ill as a child. Pythas tries it. It’s better than it looks—I imagine it's something like that herbal Chinese chicken soup, but thicker. Elim asks what Pythas was watching on his tablet, and Pythas waves off the question. “May I join you?” Elim asks. Pythas pats the mattress on the other side of him—his blind side. Elim walks around the bed, sits down, and Pythas adjusts the light blanket to cover both of them. When Pythas turns on his tablet again, a TV show starts playing where it left off—a well-known soap opera. Pythas immediately pauses it, embarrassed, while Elim looks at him with the surprise and joy of someone who’s just discovered something new to make fun of their friend for. Elim teases him about it while Pythas closes the show and tries to find something else to watch. They settle on some old action movie—something they can enjoy but also laugh at. Pythas leans against Elim and Elim puts his arm around him. Pythas eats his soup. In a week, he’ll be all better.

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[theunquenchablethirst]

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

[sephirajo]

Netflix’s Dahmer - Monster Makes Me Uncomfortable - And Not in the Way the Authors Intended

So, I watched and finished Netflix’s “revolutionary” crime drama and I’m going to have to stop them right there.  The only thing really revolutionary about this crime drama is how they claimed to be supporting victims stories, while apparently not having asked for permission in order to add some of the more explosive memories everyone has from the ‘91 trial peppered in near the end to keep people watching.

Note, I’m not upset at the women who played Rita Isbell, she did a good job with what is an older sister breaking down in the face her brother’s killer, a scene really only added to be bombastic as several other less famous victim statements exist, some of whom I’m sure would have given permission for this, if asked.  This is, sadly, a side effect of a public trial, all of these victim statements are public record and with that permission isn’t a legal requirement.  Only a desire to put the pain of others on display.

Dahmer is in living memory, we had just moved in to my family’s first house when the case broke all over, and living in Minnesota we heard about it over and over, jokes made their way around my school as a way for a bunch of ten year olds to deal with what they were hearing every night on the news. And those statements are ones that not only do quite a few of us alive today still remember but weren’t even really necessary to show on screen for the story the REST of the series is trying to tell.

The rest of the series actually does do something I haven’t seen more than a handful of times, it lays the blame where it belongs, on racism and police incompetence and willingness to believe a white man over a black woman. It covers Rev. Jesse Jackson going to Milwaukee, it focused more than lightly on Glenda Cleveland, another thing I haven’t seen done outside a documentary.  The episode “Silenced” is another amazing stand out, being from the point of view of Tony, one of Dahmer’s victims.  A deaf, black, gay man in Milwaukee in the 90s and focuses on his community and trying to connect in a hearing world.  Then, that itself seems ruined as he’s dangled in front of Dahmer as hope at redemption, a soulmate, someone he could have bonded with before Dahmer does what Dahmer did. If only the other victims got more attention.

That aside there’s details I hadn’t heard before, one I’m sure is a change which... um why when you have so many young men to choose from would you have to add someone who lived in the Oxford Apartments?  Unless I’m misremembering, that didn’t happen.  Also a claim that Dahmer was digging up and sleeping with recently deceased men from the neighborhood, now, I admit I don’t know every detail of the case or how cemeteries in Milwaukee are, but I do think that would have been something that had come up in any other doc before if there was any evidence of it, which I can’t see how there wouldn’t be. Graves are not easily dug up.  It is not easily hidden, especially if, like the show has someone claim, he was doing it more than just once or twice.  I get making changes to a true story when putting it to screen because real life is messy and our brains can’t process it with the ease we do a good story, but it seems really disrespectful on top of everything else for the writers to do.

I don’t doubt they think they were telling all the victims stories, but I’m going to leave you with this news segment I found from a local Milwaukee news station:

Milwaukee LGBTQIA+ Community reacts to Jeffrey DHamer Netflix Series

[buckyownsmylife]

Worst Behavior - Chris Evans smut

The one where it was supposed to be a sex scene, but Chris fucked you for real - and he didn’t care that your boyfriend was watching

Warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on oc boyfriend with Chris), smut, exhibitionism, public sex, dirty talk, angst.

Word count: 1.7K

A/N: thank you to my ride or die, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for looking this over and giving me her thoughts about it. Writing is such a better process with you to scream about it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

I was seething when I burst through her trailer’s door, so out of my mind that the sight of her raising a hand over her heart, clearly startled, didn’t make me feel even remotely guilty.

“So this is it, huh? We’re gonna film this one last scene, and then you’ll be back by his side, like you and I were nothing, like I never even mean anything to you.” Somewhere inside my troubled mind, a tiny, still emotionally sober part of me saw her wiping a stray tear after it immediately fell from her eye, clearly not wanting to show this sign of weakness in front of me.

But again, I was too out of it to care. I wanted her to hurt, I wanted her to feel the pain that I was feeling, after all she put me through. How could she expect me to leave this set like I was the same man that met her? She had fundamentally changed me, by showing me how to love and be loved, how it was possible to find in a single person the answer to all of my needs and desires for my future.

I couldn’t just go on pretending I didn’t know what I knew now. But that’s what she intended to do. She wanted to leave and keep living in the pretense that nothing had changed, that she was still in love with the man waiting for her on set.

I knew for a fact that wasn’t the case. I knew it because there was no way my feelings were one-sided, no way everything we had gone through had only mattered that much to me. I knew her, probably better than I knew myself. And I knew this was all just fear and anxiety, clouding her mind and stopping her from going after what she truly wanted.

Unfortunately, the only way I could process these emotions at the moment was through anger.

“Is that how you see me?” Her sweet voice surprised me, I didn’t expect her to actually respond to my hurt-filled accusations. “Do you think I’m that cruel, that I would just be able to… to leave and forget you like this?”

I huffed, too inside my own mind to relent now. Yes, this is how I saw her, at least at that moment. She was the cause of my hurt, because she was the object of my desires.

“You’re doing this out of your own free will,” I reminded her. “Don’t try to pretend you’re just some innocent little victim in all of this. You have our fate in your hands, and you’re deciding to let it all go to waste.”

At the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks, my decision to leave was made even before she ordered me out of her trailer. I couldn’t stand to see her cry, couldn’t deal with the knowledge that I was the cause for it.

So, once again, I turned that distress into anger.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The air was chilly on set, and the fact that I was practically naked under the robe didn’t help. Neither did the tension between Chris and I. I wanted to make things right, I wanted to reach over and run my hands over his shoulders, relax the muscles I’d come to know so well. But I couldn’t do that right now. Not with my boyfriend watching us.

So I resigned myself to fiddling with my fingers as we waited for the set to be ready. Since it was one of those artistic sex shots, it would be filmed from a distance and there wouldn’t be any lines or sounds that we had to make, just movements to simulate. Which meant that the few people that were allowed to stay on the set had to watch the whole thing unfold from afar, and we would be free to fake having sex while they filmed us.

I don’t think I realized this could very well be the last time I had Chris this close to me until I had his mouth on mine again. I could still feel the emotions from earlier that day right beneath the surface, boiling his blood as he buried his hand on my hair and devoured my lips like he’d done so many times before.

Good thing the scene called for desperation.

I kissed him back just as desperately, wanting to enjoy every second of this experience, even if it wasn’t exactly what I desired at that time. Chris always kissed me so well, guiding me to where he wanted, and in no time at all he had me sprawled on the bed, underneath his larger body. I couldn’t help but to moan lowly when his lips attached themselves to my jaw, and I felt his smirk against my skin.

I couldn’t blame him. The effect he had on me was incomparable. He had every right to be smug about the sounds he could pull from me, Lord knows I’d cried out his name enough times to permanently puncture my own ear drums.

And still, it didn’t seem like it would be enough. The more he touched me - even if it was under a blanket, for a scene - the clearer it became that it could never be enough. I still wanted him. I wanted him forever, in fact.

But just as the realization occurred to me, his thumb slipped over my covered clit, pressing on the little nub and making me jerk away in surprise. “Shhh…” He directed, making sure to cover my face with his bicep so the camera wouldn’t catch my shock. “Just relax so it doesn’t hurt.”

I didn’t understand what he meant until I felt him pulling the flimsy excuse of underwear aside. That’s when my cunt pulsed, just before he positioned his cock and easily slid right into my wetness.

The feeling of his thickness was too much, especially when I wasn’t expecting it. My mouth fell open in a silent gasp, and he moved his arm so the camera could see it, but also turned his head to the other side so they wouldn’t notice his lips moving as he murmured to me, “Careful, sweetheart. Can’t make any real sounds. Not like the ones I usually pull from you. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to realize that we’re actually doing it, huh?”

Chris’ P.O.V.

My desire for her ran so deep, I could hear my blood pumping in my veins as I fucked her right in front of her boyfriend. Right in front of everyone from the filming crew, for the camera to see.

I took sick pleasure in knowing this moment would be eternalized for history. Everyone would see just how pretty she looks for me and only for me, and no one would ever know the truth.

No one would ever know the truth. That I had her, that she was mine, but only for a bit. That I got to hold her, and have her screaming my name, but I’d never get to hear it again. I’d never get to have her again.

I didn’t want to have to pretend that I forgot it. Like I didn’t know this other side of her, that we never shared these sexual experiences that felt much more intimate than anything I’d ever shared with anyone else before.

It was hard to pretend that I didn’t care underneath the mask of a character that cared too much, because I was that character. I loved this woman just like he did, and I wanted to show her just how much.

I’d looked for her in everyone I’d met before. Slept with so many women, went out on so many dates, and now here she was, clenching around my cock, reaching for my hand and still, she wasn’t mine.

How can you keep looking for the love of your life if you’ve already met them?

And even if there was emotion - and there was so much emotion, ours or of our characters, it didn’t matter anymore - this felt so dirty, dirtier than anything else we’d ever done before.

I’d had her in so many ways, and still, having her now, right in front of him, brought new feelings I never expected to feel. And I couldn’t suffer through them alone. I needed to make sure she’d acknowledged it too.

“He has no idea, you know,” I whispered, low enough so the only person who could hear was her. Her eyes met mine in surprise, but she kept in character, while I took advantage of my position to taunt her more. “No one has. No one knows you only look like this when you have my dick inside of you.”

A moan broke free from her, making me smile inwardly even though I couldn’t smirk like I wanted to. I let go of one of her hands to push a few strands of hair away from her face, so both the camera and I could get a good vision of her expression.

“You’re such a good girl for me, honey. He could never get you like this. Only I can do that.” The way she clawed at my back made it obvious that I was right. And still, the reality of our situation didn’t allow for me to feel any sort of pride in that.

I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to cum and have to pull out of her, let her go back to him and their life as I was left by myself. “I can’t let you go,” I admitted, and her eyes opened up to meet mine, a slight sparkle of understanding in them. “Not like this,” I continued. “Not ever.”

And still, my hips picked up the pace and brought us to that old familiar high, right when I came to terms with the fact that I’d have to leave her. “Baby,” I whispered, this time knowing the microphone would pick it up.

Our eyes connected once more, but this time, there was mostly pain, from my gaze and from hers. I stood there for as long as I could, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, until the director’s voice freed us from the scene, and then I was forced to leave.

Before I did though, I had one last thing to say.

“I don’t want to have to miss you.”

One thing was certain. It would be impossible to remain professional during the press conference.

[lovelybarnes]

restless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of natasha romanoff, sam wilson, and steve rogers warnings: mentions of nightmares and clingy bucky but it’s mostly fluff about: bucky can’t sleep without y/n a/n: i was going to post this yesterday but i fell asleep :| my computer was literally open and nearly dead when i woke up lmao

today marks one week that you’ve been gone, and with it, the official shortest amount of sleep that bucky has gotten in a week. he supposes it’s sightly pathetic that he can’t sleep well- or, really, at all- without you, but you continuously tell him you chase his nightmares away for him, and without you there to make them disappear, where else will they go but deep into the crevices of his mind, where they’ll hide long enough for him to let his guard down and lull himself to sleep, only to wake up with the ugly memories of things he hoped he’d forgotten. he’s constantly told that his attachment to you is overbearing- not by you, though. never by you- because it must be, with how much he clings to your side, always touching some part of you so that he’s sure that, yes, you’re there. not a dream or an illusion, although you’re good enough to be one.

he misses every part of you; your fingers and the way they run through his hair, trace his features with such tenderness he nearly believes he is what you see, your voice and its ability to transform the most mundane words into the greatest poetry, sing soft songs into his skin until he’s fallen asleep, your eyes and how they examine him in the best way possible, glowing when they meet his.

he longs for you, but he can only imagine your smile, the bitter reminder that you’re probably showing it to some psychopath for the mission you’re on. he hates steve every time the memory is evoked, the panic that comes with your being used as bait for some of the most screwed up villains in the world only returning stronger. he’s tempted to go get you himself, uncaring if he screws up the mission because at least he’ll have you.

stark will call him pathetic, then go to bed with the love of his life, so bucky prefers keeping his thoughts about you to himself, much like he’d like to keep you. you’ve told him you can handle yourself, and bucky never doubts it, having been victim to the using of your skills when he first encountered you as the winter soldier. you kicked his ass then, and you kick any and all ass now.

it doesn’t help his sleeping schedule, though your calls do. he swears you’re an angel because there’s no way a normal human could glow like that through a screen, but you always laugh off his words and simply tell him to turn his brightness down. however, you haven’t taught him that yet, so he greets you with the same sentence every time. his smile is always brighter after your calls, the dark bruises under his eyes reduced as if he got a full night’s rest. it’s your effect on him, and as much as everyone teases you both for it, they appreciate it.

you’re due to come back in a week or two, but bucky is unsure he can wait that long, and judging from your chirpier-than-usual voice in your latest interaction, you’ve finished early, like you always do. he likes to imagine it’s because of him, behind the deprecating voice that screams at him why would it be? (the answer is that you love him and hate every second you’re away from him)

sam scoffs when he overhears him telling that to steve, sitting down next to bucky, “man, there is no way you can tell that from a phone call. even if you could, i know she’s good, but to shave two weeks off mission time? natasha hasn’t even been able to do that.” a proud smile grows on bucky’s face without his permission as he shrugs, “she’s that good,” he brags, choosing to ignore the fake gag sam sends his way.

you frown when he tells you what he thinks on your call a few hours later, lips puckering into a small pout, “how did you know? i wanted it to be a surprise!” you ask through a crackled voice. so much for state of the art technology, bucky thinks, but is glad nonetheless to hear your voice. “i know you too well, doll. you’re really coming back today?”

you nod excitedly, biting your bottom lip. “mhm! i missed you and my bed too much to stay here a moment longer. villains are such pervs,” you complain, nose scrunching. bucky’s jaw sets when he hears your words, immediately thinking the worst. “but, i’m coming back today, so it’s fine. what do you want to do when i get back?”

bucky shrugs, “be with you,” he answers simply, making you laugh. “other than that, dummy. we could watch a movie, have a little date night to make up for the one i missed while i was gone.” bucky grins at this, remembering his plans for that night. “okay,” he agrees, “we’ll watch one of those movies on my list. although sam put some weird ones.”

you concur through chuckles that pass through the phone, reminding him how much you love him. he swears an oath to never let you go again and bites back a yawn that you see right through. “you’re sleeping the moment i get back,” you instruct, and bucky nods with your words, even when the sole idea of your being within arm’s reach is obviously too enticing to pass up for sleep. “whatever you want, doll. as long as you’re here.” he replies, thinking about spending the night pressing kisses to your hair and checking for any injuries you may have withheld from him.

the sentence is dishonest and you both know it, but you leave it at that, missing him too much and sure he’ll rest with how exhausted he must be. you say goodbye without the actual words, only giving a blown kiss and a “see you later.”

bucky spends the rest of the hours without you thinking of you, skimming through the words written in the little blue notebook you got him to replace his old one. that one sits on his dresser, the disuse proven by the layer of dust that covers it. the names he spent hours agonizing over, tracing his fingers over the indents made by the pen, are hidden by its cover. they never fade from his mind, though. only half of the pages of the one you gave him are blank now, and the ones that aren’t are bright and white, inviting him to drop his pen on the lines and jot whatever reference he didn’t understand but wants to. he eyes the names of the movies and shows, some accompanied by quotes that refer to them. “new girl: nick miller,” he reads, remembering how one of your friends said he was the avenger version of the character. “friends: ‘joey doesn’t share food,” sam told him that one when he didn’t let him have any of his chips. he looks at clueless, recalling the way all of his teammates stare at scott whenever the movie comes up. there are a couple pages like this, some of them recommendations and others titles he kept hearing. tonight, he decides on starting a new show, but he leaves the actual show up to you to decide.

you arrive a couple hours later, when stars have littered the darkness that bled through the sky. it’s all very rom-com-filmesque, the way you light up when you see his face- even through how tired you clearly are- and how you jump into his arms, ignoring the ache in your muscles because the way his arms wrap around you seems to make it disappear. he gathers you in his arms and kisses everywhere on your face, treasuring your laugh and the feeling of your lips pressing to his shoulder when you hug him again.

even when you pull away, he doesn’t let go of your hand, flesh fingers tracing small circles into your skin. you don’t complain, even when steve shoves papers in front of you and asks you to sign them with a sheepish look. sam comes by and teases bucky lightheartedly, hounding bucky to let you have both your hands. you chuckle at his request and squeeze bucky’s fingers, kissing the back of his hand, “oh, no, he better not,” you half-joke. he smiles, red tinting his cheeks as he gently draws you closer.

you don’t feel like driving at the moment, and you need to water your plants, completely sure that wanda forgot to do it, so you end up going to your room, even though you spend most of your time at his own room or your apartment outside the compound. you can tell how little the room has been used by the spotless counters and floors, furniture clean of any of the knickknacks you usually leave. you only sleep here when bucky leaves for long missions, his absence is overly blatant when he’s gone, and your plants keep you from feeling too alone.

you usher bucky inside, tugging open your drawers to search for something for him to wear. you grin at the soft fabric under the pads of your fingertips, recalling the memory of stealing them from bucky’s closet to soak in his scent when you couldn’t have the real thing. the considerable use has washed away all traces of him, and you decide that needs to be fixed, picking out clothing for him.

you change into one of his old shirts and make tea while he changes, smiling when you feel his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing your jaw. “what do you want to watch tonight?” he asks, and you contemplate it while you pour your drinks, shoveling spoons of sugar into each one to make it as sweet as possible- his favorite. “new girl, i think you’ll like it,” you reply after a moment.

he unravels his arms from around you, taking the mugs from the counter and following you to your room after you peck his cheek in thanks. “okay, i want to see what this nick miller is all about,” bucky says, making you laugh softly. “c’mon,” he urges, opening his arms for you after setting the cups down. you cuddle up to his side after you grab your computer, setting up netflix and choosing the show.

halfway through the first episode, bucky feels the fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks, hours of missed sleep catching up to him now that he’s finally relaxed and comfortable. keeping his eyes open is a job all on its own, and the sweet smell of your hair combined with the way your fingers move on his chest, softly writing letters and drawing shapes, is too much to resist.

you barely notice when he shuts his eyes, the evening of his breathing alerting you he’s succumbed to his tiredness. you stop the video and quietly shut your laptop, placing it on the bedside table while moving as little as possible. he feels you shift through your efforts, pulling you closer in his sleep. you chase away his nightmares like you always do, letting him sleep his first full night since you left.

he wakes up rejuvenated and embarrassed, sputtering out embarrassed apologies that you shush with kind reassurances and tender kisses. he’s reminded of how wonderful you are when you turn, arms extending to reach into your bag and carrying out a small stuffed animal that you say reminded you of him.

[arcanadreams]

Water Fights with the OM Bros

it’s 90 degrees outside at my place and you know what that means!!! water fight headcanons because I refuse to go outside in the heat in real life asdhgskjdgks

once again i’m only doing the brothers bc i do not trust myself with the dateables just yet lmao

Lucifer:

Literally only agrees to join because you’re so excited about it.

“...If it makes you happy, MC,” are his exact words. Simp.

You did agree to make the game have no points though, to keep things from getting competitive. Both at the advice of Lucifer and because you knew he would not join if there was any chance he could lose. (Also because Satan is a menace but we’ll get to that later.)

When all the brothers are gathered he suggests everyone pairs up into teams. 

“You’re only saying that so you can cozy with M-” Asmo tries to say before being sprayed in the face with water.

“My hair!” “Oh, look at that. I suppose the game has started,” Lucifer hides his water gun behind his legs, but he can’t hide the shit eating grin on his face.

He takes your hand with a “Come along, MC,” and leads you away as everyone splits up.

You two make a surprisingly good team for this sort of thing! He knows the gardens well and also knows where each of his brothers is likely to go. You are quite skilled water water guns and balloons. He’s basically the brains and you’re the brawn. 

He snatches a few kisses now and then when you look back at him excitedly after smacking one of his brothers with a balloon. You’re just so cute!

When everyone is all tuckered out and goes off to shower and whatever, Lucifer hangs back with you to thank you for organizing everything. With a kiss to the back of your hand, he says, “I’ll admit, I was...skeptical, at first. But, as usual, you brought my brothers together in a way I haven’t seen in a long while. Thank you, MC.” 

Mammon:

“I’m MC’s first man, so I get to team with them!” “You’re also literally my boyfriend, but okay hun.” Cue Mammon blushing beet red at the nickname and muttering at you not to call him that in front of his brothers. (He doesn’t mean it; he loves that they know you’re his and vice versa.)

Strategically, the two of you are the absolute worst. But that’s because you’re both just there to have fun!

And have fun you do! You actually get in quite a few fun chases with Levi! He’s probably the most into the water fight out of everyone, the three of you are just running around the gardens pelting each other with balloons. It’s super cute.

Mammon is absolutely the type to yell “I’ll avenge you, MC!” every single time you get sprayed. 

Eventually, you and Mammon follow Levi’s advice and start hiding in places to catch some of the other brothers by surprise. Which would be fine if Mammon didn’t blush super hard and start grumbling because of how close together you were when kneeling behind the garden wall.

You roll your eyes and surge forward to kiss him. He’s so shocked he has no idea what to do with his hands at first. But, after a second of pause, his water gun falls to the ground with a clatter and he wraps his arms around you.

“Get a room,” Is all the two of you hear before Belphie dumps a whole ass bucket of water on your heads. Mammon growls and jumps up to get the youngest before Beel can scoop him up, but you grab his hand and stop him. 

You’re laughing super hard, and the sun is shining on your hair. You almost look like you have a halo...Mammon gives up the chase before it even starts because his MC is simply ethereal. 

“Mammon!” You smile brilliantly at him when you finally stop laughing. “I kissed you to keep you quiet! And then you managed to make even more noise!” 

He just hugs you then so you can’t see his blushing face. Stupid lovely human making fun of him. (He likes it, though.)

Leviathan:

This boy is literally the MOST excited when you tell him your idea. He was in on it from the very start.

He actually helped you get all the supplies! He opens his Akuzon account right away and starts showing you what water guns would be best and picking out huge packs of balloons made specifically for being water grenades. (Definitely had looked all this stuff up before in case he found a LARPing buddy.)

You ask him how much Grimm all this stuff will cost and he tells you not to worry. “I’ll cover it!” “But, Levi-” He interrupts you with big blush on his face. 

“L-Listen MC. You’re m-my Henry! And I know this will be fun, s-so...I’ll cover it.” You leap forward and give him a hug, triggering a surprised but equally happy screech.

Honestly he is so excited you proposed an idea like that of your own volition. Like...it just makes him feel like all the games and stuff he finds fun truly don’t bother you. You haven’t been lying; you genuinely are interested in the same things as him. It makes him feel so warm.

When everyone is still arriving, you grab one of your water guns and do that cool spinny thing. You know the thing. The cowboy gun spin. You’re like, “Hey Levi! Check this out!” 

BAM. Boy is OUT. So red his face is steaming. That’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his entire damn life. What the fuck, MC. He is basically frozen on the spot out of sheer overwhelmed-ness as how hot that was. You have to drag him away when the water fight starts. Totally worth staying up all night figuring out how to do the spin trick with a water gun.

Once the action gets going, you two are unstoppable. No one escapes the fight unscathed thanks to y’all. All those late night Call of Duty sessions trained you for this!!

Your favorite tactic is definitely camping, though. You and Levi would pick a spot and hide there, waiting for one of his brothers to come by, and then...ATTACK!

If it actually were a competition, you two would’ve won by a landslide. But honestly, Levi didn’t really keep track. He was having too much fun watching you. You were so mesmerizing when you were in the zone and so gorgeous when laughing as you gave him victory high fives after a successful ambush. 

You let him take a picture of you posing all tough with your water gun and he makes it his DDD background immediately. And his lockscreen so you can protect his DDD from intruders.

Satan:

THIS ASSHOLE. THIS MAN IS THE REASON YOU MADE SURE THERE WAS NO COMPETITION.

If there was any sense of competition, Satan would’ve gone absolutely out of his mind to beat Lucifer. He would make sure to destroy that man’s dignity as thoroughly as possible.

So, for the sake of both him and the eldest brother, no points. No contest. He grumbles about it, but, much like said eldest brother, he still joins because he sees how happy the idea of a family water fight makes you.

 Satan treats is almost as seriously as Levi does. EVEN THOUGH YOU MADE SURE IT WASN’T A COMPETITION, HE DAMN SURE STILL ACTS LIKE IT IS. UGH.

Literally pulls a map of the House of Lamentation’s gardens out of his back pocket??? And puts it on the side of the fountain?? And starts planning maneuvers on it with you??? He pulls a pen out of his SWIM TRUNK POCKETS to use to point with and emphasize his points. You just blink at him. This is your mans. Good lord.

Considering his expert knowledge of the layout of the entire surrounding area of HoL from that map, he actually knows of some secret passages the other brothers don’t even consider. He takes you to them so you can use them to spy on what Lucifer’s the other brothers’ strategies are.

It’s only once you’re creeping around the tunnels that he realizes something: none of his brothers know where you are. They can’t bother you...time to make out.

Grabs your attention with a quiet, “MC” and gives you a smooch. Soon enough he is backing you up against the wall. A water balloon you have tied to your belt pops against the rough brick, interrupting the two of you.

Satan disregards it and move to kiss you again, but you let out a gasp. He’s worried for you for a moment: did you scrape yourself? But when you turn to look at him, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye that he loves to see. 

“My water broke!” You whisper-exclaim dramatically, covering your mouth in fake shock. Satan has to nuzzle his face in your neck to avoid laughing and filling the tunnel with the echo that would alert his brothers. The two of you basically just canoodle in the passages until the water fight is over LMAO

Asmodeus:

Pretty much just to show off how good he looks in a bathing suit to you and anyone else who happens to be lucky enough to witness his glory.

He’s not the best at water fights and ends up using you as a human shield sometimes adjgfkjshf

“Asmo! Stop hiding behind me!” “I am not letting Lucifer mess up my hair twice in one day, darling!”

He comments quite often on how hot you look. Both in your bathing suit and also when in the zone looking for victims to douse in watery fury. You look like an action hero, MC! Have you ever thought about becoming the next Bond? Asmo could definitely pull some hypnotic strings.~

Every time you successfully pull him out of the way of an oncoming water balloon or block a blast of water from hitting, he totally melts. He presses his back to your chest, swooning against you and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, MC, my hero! My dashing knight in shining armor!” You scoff, but think it’s super cute. You even play into it sometimes and pick him up bridal style.

“The king is looking for you, my prince,” you say once as you lift him, and he actually blushes. Asmodeus, avatar of lust, blushes at a silly pet name. He was not expecting you to get so into the role!!! He loves it, though.

For the rest of the water fight the two of you are basically roleplaying a royal and his knight bodyguard. It is stupidly fun and the both of you have an absolute blast.

“Oh, MC, my darling knight! I have amazing news!” Asmo says after the fight ends. You’re drying his hair off with a towel. “Yes, my liege?” 

“In exchange for your wonderful and dutiful protection, you have been given permission by the crown to court me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He smiles and you throw your head back in a laugh. You lean down and give him a nice, long kiss on the lips before pulling away. “That is absolutely splendid, your highness.”

Beelzebub:

He loves the idea because it’ll get his whole family together and he knows it. He has to carry Belphie out there but that’s normal.

He helped you and Levi plan!! Excited boy. You filled him in when he joined you and Levi for a game night. He totally volunteered to go get some extra supplies from some nearby stores for y’all. So cute.

Once everyone is actually fighting, this boy WILL NOT STOP BEING A HUMAN (demon?) SHIELD FOR YOU. LIKE NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU TELL HIM IT’S FINE, YOU’RE FINE, HE WILL NOT STOP.

“Babycakes, it’s okay. It’s water. It can’t hurt me.” “But I love you. I want you safe.” O H. O K A Y.

Someone call a doctor Beel just shot MC through the heart!!! He’s so genuine you just bright red and kiss his cheek because he deserve it.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then, huh?” He gives you a big Beel smile and nods, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Y’all get sprayed with water A LOT because your hungry boy is very big and hard to hide. Er, I should say HE gets sprayed a lot because he is a fantastic meat shield and you’re practically dry by the time the fight is over. He, on the other hand, is soaked to the bone.

He still insists on drying you off with a towel, though. The two of you dry each other off back in the twins’ room while Belphie dozes nearby in his bed.

You’re in the middle of drying his shoulders when he just starts talking. “That was really fun, MC. I’m really grateful for you. Ever since you’ve been here, things are always more fun. And you bring all my brother together. Thank you.” 

You damn near burst into tears!!! Ahhhh!!! You sniffle and jump into his nap, wrapping your arms around him. “But MC, I’m still wet.” “I don’t care!! I’m giving you snuggles!!”

Belphegor:

Literally does not give a single fuck about a water fight until he realizes it lets him throw shit at Lucifer with absolutely zero consequences. Then he is all in.

Beel doesn’t even have to carry him around during the fight! Once he is outside and realizes all the shenanigans he can pull, he is perfectly content to grab you by the hand and be the one dragging you around, for once!

You two will probably team up with Satan and Beel at various points. Beel because he’s Beel, and Satan because he and Belphie absolutely set water balloon filled booby traps for Lucifer.

That’s his preferred strategy: set up a trap and wait in the bushes, watching for the target to approach.

He’s definitely the type to yell “Every man for himself!” if someone catches you guys hiding. Unlike his twin, he lets you get totally soaked while he runs away laughing. Dickweed.

You guys have a lot of fun, though!! Seeing Belphie excited is always a treat for you. And, though he doesn’t say anything about it, Belphie also thinks it’s a treat whenever you scheme with him. You don’t join in on his mischief often, so he always cherishes the times you do.

Eventually, after soaking Lucifer thoroughly, Belphie eventually gets a bit tired. You, however, want to keep the fun going. So, just as he begins to dose off in your hiding spot...you spray him. Right in the face. 

He opens his eyes and sees you raising an eyebrow at him challengingly, giggling to yourself. He growls playfully and grabs his own water gun, quickly giving chase as you bolt. 

Being a demon, he’s much quicker than you. But he lets you think you can escape for a few minutes before catching up to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

As you squirm and laugh in his embrace, he feels thankful he joined in on the fight, even if he was hesitant at first. After all, it led to this moment, where he can turn you around in his arms and give you a nice kiss as you melt against his chest.

[kyberphilosopher]

The Edward Nygma Headcanons

Kyberverse Edward Nygma- the Riddler. 

？？？

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His name is Nygma. NYGMA. I hate when it’s changed to Nashton instead of Nygma because Ed Nygma is meant to sound like enigma and that’s like… his whole thing.

In Kyber Universe, The Riddler definitely functions as a jigsaw like character. For example, victims may be trapped and have to answer riddles to be set free. Might have question marks curved into their skin or taken from their skin.

When watching the Hobbit, Edward will answer the riddles discussed in Gollum’s scene very loudly. Rolled his eyes in the theater when hearing it because they were so easy to him.

I’ve always felt that Edward Nygma fell on the autistic spectrum. Some people agree, some don’t, but for my writing he is. It might not be apparent or extreme, but the way he communicates with people is a telltale sign.

Nygma’s living space is rather messy in one way or another. We share the same personality type, so I’d know.

His favorite color is purple.

Adores those cookies you get around holidays with the thick frosting. I don’t know what they’re called, but they are America’s backbone. You know what I’m talking about.

Valentine’s Day is one of his favorite holidays because there’s so much he can do with it. Everyone goes out to pretty predictable places.

Can occasionally suffer arousal from riddles/the show of intelligence.

A cat person. A cat person, and it’s not even close.

Not so much of a headcanon, more of a fact- The Riddler has had cancer before in comic history. He cured it with the Lazarus pit however. I just find that interesting and wanted to share.

Overall a very obsessive person that can change month to month, or last lifetimes.

He knows who the Batman is, but he likes to dangle it over the other villains heads.

As a kid, Nygma was abused by his father and therefor suffered many concussions. If you take him on a rollercoaster, he can cover up the pain of jostling in his head for you, but it sucks for him.

Also kinda gets carsick easily.

Pretty atheist or agnostic, and won’t care about your religion very much. He’ll understand it from an intellectual point, but don’t expect him to be empathetic or caring.

A complete and total feminist. No, I’m not kidding. Will occasionally attend rallies or berate husbands who do nothing for their wives.

Does not have a goofy costume like he historically has. I definitely picture my Riddler more like the upcoming Paul Dano version.

Talk and skinny. Very lean, not a lot of muscle. Sorry about that.

*These headcanons can be expanded on and added to over time. Headcanons can be left in comments to be added to the list. These headcanons will be used in kyber’s fanfictions for this character. All headcanons can be used to inspire a fanfiction request. All headcanons discussed in comments must be discussed politely and are welcomed. Return frequently for new headcanons.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (2)

Alright, Here is the addition to the first post I made about Marinette having a somewhat of a similar backstory to Jason.

[Masterlist]

WARNING: the Revenge part have some suicide, death, physical abuse and bullying stuff mentioned. Extreme Lila Bashing.

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Marinette runs a business called Afterlife (I am bad with names, gimme a break) with Wayne Enterprise as a partnership. She is the mysterious designer MT.

Jagged knows about Marinette and the whole LB thing after one scare and an explanation and promotes it a lot.

The Waynes can’t believe that she knew Jagged Stone.

So Afterlife brand is taking off and is the hottest new thing since Jagged is wearing it and MT is apparently the mysterious newly adopted Wayne who hasn’t appeared in public much and the family’s personal designer.

Loads of Celebrity commissions.

Gabriel loses sales as the new line they launched ‘coincided’ with the launch of Afterlife’s newest fashion line called Karma.

I should mention that Edna Mode(?) and Audrey Bourgeois gave many praises to MT because they are amazing designs and to spite Gabriel a little bit.

Gabriel doesn’t panic yet. A lie

I haven’t talked about Lila much, have I? Let’s just say she got a visit from a ghost, well, several ghosts.

Remember that guy Marinette mentioned that could get her fake documents. It was John Costantine, who owes her a favor ( he owes her more than a few and he would do anything she asked for her brownies. )

Tim and Babs dig up dirt on Lila Rossi and their silence was brought with a delicious cake.(coffee flavored for Tim)

Gets John to do a little summoning for her.

------

(Suicide implied, death, bullying, You have been warned)

“~Lila~. ~Oh Lila~”

Lila turned to her other side, wishing the voice would shut up.

“Oh, Lie-la, sleeping so peacefully. So silent. I wish you would stay that way forever.” The voice said menacingly.

Lila’s eyes snapped wide open to come face-to-face with supposed to be dead Marinette Dupain-Cheng with a manic look. Did Marinette had red eyes before?

Lila screamed.

“Oh, it’s no use. No one will hear you. Remember when you said those words. To poor Bianca. Every day at lunch break in the old unused bathrooms when you beat her up for not doing as you say.”

A girl with long dark hair appeared. Covered in black and blue bruises. Looking at Lila with hate.

“Let’s not forget. Poor Tommy. Alex. Andrea. Wil. Gary. Nico. Freya. Magnus. Della…” As Marinette listed off names, more and more teens appeared, the youngest being a 10 year old girl.

They all had the same expression as Bianca. Utter hatred.

“And there is me. The latest in your long line of victims. Lie-la, how do you feel right now, looking at the casualties of your greed for fame and fortune? Your ‘enemies’. And you know that English saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’.” Marinette gave a sinister laugh.

“You are dead. You were all supposed to be dead. This isn't real. This isn’t real.” Lila chanted, closing her eyes and covering her ears.

She felt cold fingers lifting up her face to meet red eyes, promising many Bad things.

“Sorry, sweetie. This is the cold harsh reality. You thought that you could get away with it. The deaths you caused with your filthy lies and ‘so-call accidents’. You danced on our ashes and you built your kingdom with our blood on your hands. I hoped you enjoyed it while it lasted. ”

The nails dug further into her face, drawing some blood and sure to leave some scars.

“Because, Lila Rossi, this is the last time you would know peace. And could you pass on a message to the Agrestes for me. Tell them that Death cannot hold back the wrath of Ladybug.” Turning to the other ghosts. “Get her.”

Marinette stepped back as the other teens pounced on her. Scratching, pulling, biting. Inflicting pain on Lila. She jumped out the window and landed next to John smoking.

“Thanks for everything. Will she be okay?” Lila’s screams can’t be heard due to a soundproof charm.

“She will wake up in the morning, a little sore thinking it was all a nightmare.”

“That is until she looks into a mirror. I left a little something to remind her that it actually happened. By the way, can you help me with this curse?” She said, pulling out a notebook.

“Let me see. Hmm.. Oh.. that’s a good one. Nice. Wow...You are very creative with curses, remind me to never get on your bad side. But are you sure about that last part?”

“Lila needs a lesson and as much as I hate her and wants her to suffer for the rest of eternity. She doesn’t deserve being tormented for the rest of her life. At least, she should learn that actions have consequences, especially for everything she had done so far.”

“You are too kind despite everything that has happened, Pigtails.”

“Doesn’t mean I am going to give you the resurrection spell I used.”

“You are no fun. You are as bad as Bats.”

--------

Lila’s curse is that she sees her victims when she leasts expects it. Alya, talking about her blog, is replaced with Bianca cracking her knuckles and about to punch Lila. In everyone else, it looked Lila screamed ‘Please don’t hurt me” to a confused Alya.

Lies some more to save face but the more she lies, the more the ghosts keep appearing. Some actually hurt her but there are no bruises or cuts to prove that it happened.

She is just so jumpy all the time and during photoshoots, Adrien gets replaced with a rotting corpse and every picture comes out with fear in her eyes.

Gabriel fires her after a million complaints.

Not before relaying Marinette’s message. “She cursed me. She came into my room and did this to me (pointing to the scars on her face.) She sent my dead classmates after me.”

“Who?”

“Ladybug. She told me to tell you that even Death cannot stop Ladybug’s wrath. So better watch your back, M. Agreste.”

(Gabriel didn’t feel threaten not at all. There is no such thing as ghosts. Sure magic is real with the Kwamis and the Miraculouses as proof. But ghosts? Those are just stories. Lila Rossi just had a nightmare that was too vivid for her. He definitely is not searching Google for warding them off. Especially revenge-seeking ones. He was just looking for inspiration. That MT caused a lot of trouble and sleepless nights for Gabriel but this next line was sure to be a success.) He was wrong.

No matter how many NDAs he made people signed and how much security measures he took. Afterlife seems to hosts fashion shows, launch new lines or their designs made the cover of a famous fashion magazine and SHOWING UP the GABRIEL brand EVERY! SINGLE! TIME!

Gabriel is rarely in the headlines these days and most of the billboards in Paris is filled with products from Afterlife (Chloe as a model with a mask to conceal her identity which adds to a mystery.) or WE.

He is super frustrated and a little desperate.

------

Got any ideas for revenge on Gabriel, Natalie and Adrien? Also the rest of the class?

(Part 3)

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

The Boyz “You tell them you love them when you think they’re asleep”

The Boyz Masterlist                                  Group Masterlist

Ask: OH hoi!✨So what about telling The Boyz you love them when you think they are asleep🥺Thank youu💕

A/N: My first The Boyz reaction! Please lemme know what you think

Sangyeon: 

Long days of filming really can build up to a crash and this was what Sangyeon was experiencing. On days off like this, he really noticed it caught up to him. Sleeping for a majority of the day and being in an odd daze the moments that he was awake. It him feel slightly guilty, because his days off were the only ones where you could really hang out which lead to him forgetting you were coming over on a day he couldn’t get out of bed. 

He was in that horrible inbetween of being awake and asleep when you wandered into his room. You never disturbed him while he was asleep, he knew that but he was curious as to what you were doing as you looked him over. “You work so hard. God, I just love you so much.” You said softly and he just found that he could not hide his smile. “Oh my god you’re awake.” You laughed, noticing his smile. He was still dazy, but he still nodded his head. 

“If it makes you feel better, I love you too.” 

Jacob: 

Spending the night together for the first time is kind of a big deal in a relationship and well you were still slightly tiptoeing around eachother, just to make sure you didn’t overstep eachothers boundaries. Well, now you were just kind of admiring him. He was just so pretty, those long lashes as his eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy. You felt lucky, you felt... loved. 

You moved to look at him better, head resting on his chest and you just stared. “Oh I think I love you, Jacob Bae.” You said softly, not wanting to wake him up because you thought he was asleep. Well, he was half awake and just not wanting to commit to speaking or opening his eyes yet. Until he heard you words and his eyes shot open, surprising you immensly and making you squeak. Jacob felt his heart absolutely melt, at your reaction and your words. 

“I think I love you too, sorry... for scaring you.” 

Younghoon: 

He was fighting sleep the whole night and you had told him to just go to bed. But Younghoon was stubborn and was determined to watch this drama with you. But boy was he fighting sleep and it was a losing battle... however amusing. 

He wasn’t there yet, asleep, but the pout was plastered on his face and his eyes were shut. The drama playing in the background was forgotten and you were just watching him at this point. Younghoon was just so precious when he slept, you couldn’t help yourself but cuddle into him more. “I love you, Younghoon-ie.” You whispered and his pout turned into a smile. “You thought I was asleep?” He asked and you smacked his chest lightly. “Yes I did. You said you were going to watch the drama.” You retorted, crossing your arms and he shook his head at you. 

“I was watching! From behind my eyelids. That’s not important, you just told me you loved me.” 

Hyunjae/Jaehyun:

Hyunjae, being the caring guy he was, had used his day off to surprise you. Showing up to your place early with lunch, then taking you out for a fun day, shopping, coffee, just the whole nine yards. But it was only natural that by the time you had gotten home, Hyunjae was beat. Finding that he needed to lay down a minute as you got more comfortable. 

He wasn’t asleep yet, just drowsy with his eyes closed and laying on your couch when you came back wearing sweatpants. He had given you such a nice day, when he worked so hard. You just felt an overwhelming amount of love, the least you could do was cover him up with a blanket. “I love you, so, so, so much.” You said softly, only to feel his hands holding your waist and pulling you down on the couch with him. 

“I love you too, I’m just really tired.” 

Juyeon:

“So that was pretty much how the show went.” Juyeon said into the phone, sighing at the thought of you. “Sounded like it was something.” You said with a laugh. On days you couldn’t see eachother, a call at the end of the day was always something you cherished. But a long silence fell on the other end, coupled with something you could have sworn was heavy breathing. 

“Oh Juyeon, I love you.” You hummed softly, convinced he was asleep. “I love you too.” His response was quick, startling you and making you laugh. “I thought you were asleep.” You said, getting harty laugh from him on the other end. “No sorry, something came on that caught my attention.” His heart was warm at your confession.

“But that’s besides the point. I really, really love you.” 

Kevin: 

It something you frequently did together, just scrolling aimlessly through tiktok/instagram etc. Your head resting on his chest as you both watched videos on his phone. But you gradually noticed his scrolling getting slower, his eyes drooping and his breaths getting heavy. It wasn’t long before he had dozed off. 

You turned his phone off, feeling him nestle into you a bit more which was practically a sure sign of sleep. “I love you.” You whispered, kissing his forehead after. Only to feel his arms tighten around you even more. “I love you too.” He mumbled and yeah it caught you off guard. But you didn’t want to press him further, you just wanted to enjoy the moment. 

New/Chanhee: 

It was 4 a.m and well, you couldn’t sleep. You were left just staring at the ceiling in Chanhee’s room, not wanting to move too much and wake him up on accident. So you simply took in your surroundings, the soft bed sheets, the fluffy pillows, the beautiful sleeping guy next to you. Chanhee was just so pretty, even when he was asleep. So you decided to focus on that. 

You took in his features, taking a mental note of his facial shapes and his soft breaths. “Chanhee, I love you so much.” You said very softly not wanting him to wake up. However he surprised you, turning your way to face you and his eyes opening slowly. Chanhee woke up the second you moved around, but kept his eyes shut in the hopes that sleep would find him anyways. 

“I love you too, now go to sleep.” 

Q/Changmin: 

Changmin knew you were coming over, but had decided to lay down and try to take a nap anyways. But whenever that failed, he had just decided to mess with you instead. He could hear the members telling you were he was and he pretended to sleep when he heard his bedroom door open. 

You were always just happy to see him and you were especially happy that he was getting some well deserved rest. You leaned over and kissed his forehead, which was when he wanted to jump up and scare you but then you just had to say it. “I love you Changmin.” You said softly, only for his eyes to shoot open. It still scared you, just not the way he was intending to at first. 

“I was going to scare but then you said that and- you can’t just- I love you too.” 

Haknyeon: 

A good dinner, followed by a good movie on Netflix was almost a sure thing to get Haknyeon to fall asleep. It was just such a dangerous and powerfull duo, you had also often fallen victim too and this was one of those times. You had woken up to a slightly less full tummy and the movie being over, Haknyeon lightly snoring next to you on the couch. 

You had to hold back your laughter, because well this happened more often than you cared to admit. Leaning over Haknyeon, you ran your fingers over his cheeks. “I love you.” You said, not bothering to whisper because if he was really asleep, he’d sleep through it anyways. His lips curled into a smile, being on the verge of being awake. 

“You’re cute. I love you too.” 

Sunwoo: 

The van was quiet and the sun was down, leaving you to have quite a melancholy drive because everyone was seemingly asleep. You loved it when you were allowed to join on schedule, even now when everyone was asleep and you were wide awake. 

Looking over to Sunwoo, who’s hand was on your thigh and his eyes were shut, you leaned into him more. Maybe even attempt to get some sleep yourself, but you couldn’t help yourself but look at a him little longer first. “I love you.” You whispered, just loud enough for only him to hear. You watched his lips form a slight pout as he opened his eyes slightly. 

“I love you too, just don’t let the others know.” 

Eric: 

Eric’s energy level was either at 100 or at 0 and well he had been at 100 all day, which meant he was now at 0. Completely tired and you could tell by the way his words slurred as he leaned on you, it was almost like he was drunk. You could feel him slump onto your shoulder, eyes shut and you honestly thought he was asleep. 

“You’re such a dummy, Eric. I love you.” You mumbled, looking at him a moving his hair out of his face. You could feel him laugh against you, before sleepily opening his eyes. “I love that you insult me before telling me you love me.” This was followed by a yawn and you shook your head, needing to hold back your laughter. “Go to sleep, my dummy.” You said softly and he nodded in agreement. 

“I guess I will. I love you too, by the way, Just so you know.” 

A/N: My first the boyz reaction! I’m not completely happy with it but I hope to get better at writing for them!

[lilithdusk]

Part 2 to Marinette has lost her partner and Adrien happens to look just like him

Previous part

Adrien pulled away just enough to look into Marinette’s eyes. How could she have his Miraculous? He gave it to Alya, he was certain of that. He simply couldn’t have take Marinette’s balcony for Alya’s. And Nino had told him he knew Rena Furtive’s identity. He has made no mistake, thus why was his classmate now wearing the Chat Noir’s miraculous? He opened his mouth but, suddenly, an explosion caught them off guard. They ended up on the ground, covering their ears.

Down the street, a new vilain was tormenting Paris. Adrien didn’t waste any time and took Marinette’s hand. They both got up and ran away from the chaos. The teenagers took refuge in a small alley. Their respiration were caught in their throats, panting. When Adrien glanced at his friend, she was already looking away, at the chaos further. His sight immediately fell on her finger and the jewellery. How could he bring this into the conversation without suspicion? How could he know something about the miraculous? And there was still the option  of Marinette not knowing anything about it. Perhaps Alya had given it to her as a gift. 

Deep inside him, he knew it was the wrong explanation. What made him comeback to reality was Marinette’s hand on his shoulder.

“Adrien, climb on that. You’ll hide in here.”

She was showing a balcony above their heads. The trash containder was below and if he jumped, he could reach and climb on it. When they both reached the hidden balcony, Marinette stepped over the guardrail and was preparing to get back on the ground when Adrien stopped her.

“What are you doing?! Hide here until Ladybug arrives!”

The containder was slippery because of the rain pouring and Marinette almost fell down. She lifted her head and gave Adrien a nod.

“We’ll be safe separately. It’s too dangerous to stay in the same place together.”

She landed on the ground with a flop while Adrien remained still.

“Don’t.” He whispered.

Marinette couldn’t have possibly hear him and yet, she reassured him with a slight smile. The first one he saw on her lips for weeks. Marinette ran away before Adrien could convaince her to stay. 

Now on the main street, Marinette has lost sight of the vilain. He had faded away. So, she hid in a corner of a street in order to transform.  The ring on her finger caught her attention and her heart clenched. A single tear fell down on her cheek, mingled with the rain. How could she still hope about her partner showing to the battleflied when she was the one wearing his miraculous?

“Marinette!”

She flinched and turned around. Adrien was on the ground, in the middle of the street, drenched. He had called out for her. The look on his face spoke for him. His eyes were switching between her hand and her face. Marinette quietly eyed him, confused by his behaviour. Why did he come out? Why was he risking his safety? Why was he looking so concerned and troubled? 

Marinette took a step towards him before her whole body became paralyzed. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the vilain flying straight to Adrien. The attack was directed at him. Even worse, Marinette didn’t know the Akuma’s power and what it did to the victims. She could not risk Adrien’s life. He was facing the small alley she was in, the vilain could not see her yet. Her identity would only be revealed to Adrien, it was a pale risk in comparaison to his safety.

Before his own eyes, Adrien watched Marinette transforming into Ladybug. He missed a few heartbeats while she was looking at him, grave. His eyebrowns frowned when she scurried towards him. Soon enough, her arm was around his waist and they flied away from the vilain he had not seen until now.

They didn’t have time to land somewhere. The vilain was behind them, running fast, very fast. Ladybug had to trust her instinct but how could she be at the top of her performances when her teammate was missing, along with her tiredness?

Drenched in the rain, Ladybug was carrying Adrien. She slid on one of the rooftop and, thanked her power for giving her a yoyo to catch her up. Flying the Parisian sky, she finally dropped Adrien on the ground.

“You stay here until the Lucky Charm cure everything, alright?”

Adrien simply nodded. Ladybug got back into fighting the akuma. The fight was raw, rough and bloody. Ladybug couldn’t have the advantage when she was exhausted and the vilain, full of energy. He was the one dominating the fight, he would hit her everytime he had the opportunity. For the first time since Hawkmoth appeared, Ladybug was losing. And the capital silently observed her fall, alone, without the help of any Miraculous holders. 

Another hit made her fly into a wall which then collapsed. Someone had to help her out; Adrien came out of his hidden place, once again. Running into the rubbles, he lifted and pulled some concrete blocks and helped Ladybug getting up. He took her hand and look into her eyes, genuine.

“You have to use the Miraculous of destruction.”

“I- I won’t use it...” She frowned, hurt.

“You’re going to die if you don’t!”

His friend dived her eyes into his, severe. Of course Ladybug was Marinette, how could she not? Adrien maintained her gaze. He wasn’t Chat Noir anymore but he won’t let her die because she wouldn’t use the miraculous. Ladybug needed help, simply not from him. In front of the vilain, of Hawkmoth, of the cameras recording the fight, Adrien couldn’t get back his miraculous, even if he wanted to. Paris was watching very carefully. So, he took her hand, the one where the ring was still resting on, and brought it in front of her face.

“Use it.”

“It’s not mine, the only person who can wear it is Chat Noir.” Ladybug responded.

“You already wore it for a fight.”

“It’s not the same! The power contained in both is too dangerous for one person.”

“You are more than capable to wear it. You are Paris’s hero, the guardian of the miraculous; if one person can handle this power, it’s anyone but you.”

Her teary blue eyes were watching him cautiously.

“I can’t do it without him.” 

Her voice broke out in a whisper. Adrien’s lips turned into a slight smile, also tearing up.

“I’ve always been around you my Lady.”

Ladybug’s face lit up when the realization hit her. Her partner, her teammate, her best friend, her soulmate was in front of her this whole time. She had found him. The two most precious boys in her life were actually one. She sobbed, incapable of controlling her emotions. Adrien immediately pressed her hand.

“Beat this akuma now, alright?” 

She pressed his in return and nodded. Taking a step back, she never broke away from his gaze.

“Tikki, Plagg, unify!”

A violent white light made everyone blind. Adrien lifted his arm to refrain the light entering his eyes. Along with white spots, he was blinded with purple ones. A few seconds later, when his sight has adjusted, Ladybug was in front of him, in a new suit. It was purple with golden details. But what caught everyone’s attention was her eyes, glowing white. She was standing before him, before Paris’s and Hawkmoth’s eyes, all powerful; and ready to fight, once and for all.

I enjoyed writing these two! And I’m so excited about the serie showing the potential of the miraculous union! (manifesting for season 4 final)

@anelfinthedark @giuliafc @steelblaidd @backyardbob01  

[daisies-and-buttercups]

“Love and War - Chapter III” - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: You’ve picked a side, and now you have to deal with the aftermath. 

A/N: When I started this fic I had a decent outline what I wanted to happen but my ideas sorta ended with this part. However, I’m loving where this is going and I have some more ideas, so there probably will be a few more chapters 👀  Either way, I want to thank everyone that liked and commented, not only on this fic but in general, it always makes me so happy and it really means a lot 💕

Words: 3.4k

Chapter I Chapter II

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Your house was now used to your incessant walking, the wood singing along as you stood on it over and over, pacing from one room to the other, picking the phone up, sighing, falling on the bed for a short moment before starting the routine all over again. 

By morning you had slept for only a few hours, the ghost of Arthur visiting you in your dreams to blame you for his death, shaking you up until you woke up. The sun was now high, making you jump up to reach the phone. You weren’t backing down, you’d have no more deaths.

The phone rang consistently, bothering Ada enough to make her pick it up, ignoring Tommy’s order against it.  “What?” Her tone was annoyed, but she understood once she heard yours, nervous and desperate. “Ada? Ada! I need to know where they are. I’m not having them kill each other.”  “Oh darling, I… I can’t. Tommy was adamant about not letting you know.” Her tone was now softer, having missed your conversations and feeling the desperation in your voice. “Ada, please. I covered you when you and Freddie-“ “Is this a me-and-Freddie situation?” “What?” “Is he your Freddie?”  Your fingers tapped on the table, looking up at the flowers that had started to wither. You had pressed the nicest ones in a book, but couldn’t bring yourself to throw the rest away and, even if dried out, they still somehow looked good, so you kept them.  Was he your Freddie? He definitely felt like what Ada had described all those years ago, the feelings she described so vividly were now also your own. You hadn’t spent long enough with him to truly know, but you didn’t want him to die before you had the chance to figure it out. “I don’t know, Ada. I think so.”  Her sigh was the only sign, along with your impatient tapping, that time was still flowing.  “The distillery. Tommy left not too long ago, so I’d rush there.”  You groaned and ran to get your shoes, running back to the phone to thank her. “You didn’t hear it from me, you hear me! Not from me!” She repeated over and over, hoping that you wouldn’t be the victim of the day. She really didn’t want to lose a friend. 

The roads were deserted as you ran past the first buildings, spotting the distillery in the distance.  You turned the corner, trying not to run the final meters that separated you from whatever was going on inside, thinking it wise to listen to what was happening before jumping into a situation you might not know how to handle, but stopped dead in your tracks. Someone stood outside the door, taking a few steps, listening, scratching his head and checking his gun. Someone that looked a lot like… “Arthur?”  He turned and faced you, smiling but quickly placing a finger over his lips, letting you know to be quiet. You walked fast again, walking over to him and crashing against his chest, pulling him in a quick hug, but freezing when you realised why he was out here. He wasn’t alone, but the men stayed back, leaving you the space to talk, holding their guns in clear sight nonetheless.  “How are you doing, love?” He whispered. “You’re… you’re meant to be dead.” “Hope it’s not too disappointing to see me still standing, dear” he laughed softly, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’d suggest leaving now, it ain’t gonna be pretty.” he motioned to the gun, glancing inside while focusing for a moment on the voices that could faintly be heard. You stood still, listening along and hearing Luca speak, then the sound of banging and glass breaking, the clear sound of a fight.  It was the vortex of emotions swirling in your steps that kept you there, trying to make sense of the situation. Your image of Luca had been shifted because of Arthur’s death, only to now find him standing there, armed, ready for a fight. And you knew who the bullets in his barrel were for. “Ah, that’s my cue. See ya, love.”  You weren’t sure if it was the sound of your heartbeat or of your footsteps, but before he had time to react you slipped past him, holding your stare straight ahead of you, the colour of blood painting your thoughts. It was rage, that rage that had never been strong, that always came when you weren’t part of Tommy’s plans. When you had to stay behind. When it was better if you didn’t know. You wasted all your tears on a man that wasn’t dead, not an ounce of regret in anybody’s mind when you walked in. 

The first thing you saw was Tommy’s expression drop when his eyes landed on you, the only person that could’ve complicated this further. Then you saw Luca.  His face wasn’t the same as when you last saw it. Gashes decorated it, his eye was swollen and his lips hung open, showing you the damage dealt in its full glory. It was a gruesome show, only made worse by the stares that you received for being there.  Tommy was holding him up when you walked in, the faint glimmer of surprise passing through his eyes, expecting Arthur to walk in, not you. But to see you walk over  to the bloodied man… maybe that’s what made him truly speechless. When you reached Luca you stopped, looking at his injuries for only a second before hearing Arthur cock his gun.  “Get away from him, sweetheart. I told you to leave.”  You turned slowly, first meeting Thomas’ cold stare and then facing the gun that was pointed at you, crossing your arms in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere, Arthur. Shoot me, I’m not leaving.”  Luca called your name, pulling you weakly away, trying to get you to stand behind him. He wouldn’t have you get killed over his life. But you didn’t move, asserting your position once more in front of the man, planting your feet harshly against the ground.  You saw Arthur’s eyes wander between you and Tommy, unsure as to what to do. You all waited for the next move, the only sound being Luca’s demands for you to leave as he clung to you, trying to get you to leave. “Go.”  Tommy spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on your hand, the one that gripped on to Luca’s. He couldn’t watch you, so worried for the life of that man. A person he had considered a friend, a helper, family, even, now standing on the enemy’s side.  You had been Luca’s only request. He didn’t care about the rest, but he wanted you to leave with him, if that was what you desired, and he didn’t want anyone trying to stop you. He wanted you, and that made Tommy’s blood boil, but he played his part, knowing full well that he had the upper hand. He knew that there's no leaving, not for you and not for him. There was nothing to go back to either way. Luca was never going to leave alive in Tommy’s eyes, but when you crossed the threshold the illusion shattered. The way you looked at him made it clear that you’d be willing to risk more than your life for the Italian. He’d been a fool, maybe, but there had always been something about your ways. He knew you, cared for you, and underestimated you all at the same time. In his eyes you’d always follow him like a lost puppy, just like Arthur did, but you were strong enough to break from his spell and get away. “Now!” he shouted, walking over to Arthur and ripping his gun out of his hands, aiming it at you, allowing his emotions to leave him, falling back into his new reality. You were an enemy now too, and he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.  A small flinch and the beginning of a tear was all that you allowed him to see before you moved, cringing at the sound of Luca grunting in pain at your movement, trying to pull him up somewhat gently, but not allowing him to see that, no matter where you stood now, this still hurt. 

Feeling your heart beat in your chest, you focused on the gun aimed at you for a moment, stopping at the door to look each one of them in the eyes. Tommy’s gaze didn’t falter, menacing and cold, while Arthur couldn’t look at you, moving away from where you stood, realising the side you chose didn’t match his own.  You had often sat with Arthur, the two of you ignored on many occasions and gave you an extra reason to bond, and he cared deeply for you, but he wouldn’t go against Tommy, not even to look at you to show you that he somehow wasn’t mad, just surprised and disappointed at your choice. 

While you walked out of the door, no man followed you, making it clear that Luca’s men were no longer his, Matteo standing still behind you, not daring to look up and meet Luca’s eyes, clutching his rifle tightly against his chest.   “I should be the hero coming to save you, not vice versa.”  “Yeah, well, maybe next time.” You muttered, struggling to walk while carrying most of his body weight.  You weren’t sure what other damage he had apart from his face, but his limping and laboured breathing suggested that other parts of his body had been wounded too. He pretended to be fine, taking steady steps before falling back onto you with a grunt, whispering a mix of Italian swear words and apologies. 

The moment you crossed the threshold of your house you walked him over to the sofa, finding the phone and calling the doctor before gathering anything useful that you could find, cursing at yourself for not being more organised.  “You could’ve died.” he spoke, his voice coarse as you made your way back to him with the various creams. “You’re a goddamn fool.” You muttered, dabbing his wounds, making him flinch and hiss in pain.  “Gentle, love.” He tried to joke, moving away from you, only to stop when the pain between his ribs got worse.  “I wouldn’t have to be gentle if you weren’t such an idiot.” You answered back, scoffing but softening your touches nonetheless. The doctor was going to be here soon, so you decided to focus on the various cuts, moving as gently as you could, wiping away the blood and removing any piece of glass still stuck in his skin.  “Never do that again.” He spoke seriously now, moving ever so slightly while you took care of him, lifting his hand to wipe some of his blood that had gotten on your cheek.  “Never do what again, save your ass?”  “Stand between me and a gun.” It had been a bold move, trusting your gut, knowing that Arthur wouldn’t shoot at you, even when your brain was cursing at you to get out of the way, but you weren’t sure if that made all the difference. You hadn’t thought about it, you just felt the need to stand in front of him, to shield him, whatever the outcome.  “Then next time be on the right end of it.”  Your movements were stopped by his hand gripping yours, holding the blood-stained rag still, some of the drops dripping down your arms, colouring your skin with faint red lines. “That was my intention and always has been, I can assure you, but in no circumstance I want you to take a bullet for me.” His eyes wandered, looking at you while you took care of him. He couldn’t have hoped for a better sight, yet something about the scene before him tugged at something deep within him. The fear of what he thought he could never achieve being right in front of him, maybe.  “Turns out I am here to clean up your wounds in the end, eh?” you joked, trying to wipe the serious look off his face along with all the blood.  “Y’ won’t want to kiss me anymore, with all these cuts. Too many scars.” “Who said I ever wanted to kiss you in the first place?” It was a harmless joke, proved for good measure by the soft kiss you placed on his lips, the meeting of your tongues enticed by both of your lips curving into a soft smile, the feeling of finally belonging somewhere filling your chest. “You never seemed to mind, dear.”  “I’ll always want to kiss you.” You added, letting the truth run free. He laughed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, gently caressing your face with his fingertips, tracing invisible lines.  “No good came from kissing this old man, sweetheart. You-“ his words were interrupted by the timid knock on the door. He watched as you rose, making your way to the door, welcoming the doctor in and gesturing towards Luca, quickly explaining that you tended his external wounds and needed some help at assessing the internal ones. He looked away, nodding at the annoyance of being interrupted. 

“He’s got a broken rib. It will take him up to two months to fully recover, but in a week or two the pain should lessen. He’s also running a low fever. Everything seems under control, but if it rises you’ll have to monitor his condition.” The small man talked quietly, as if he didn’t want Luca to hear. Timid steps made him grow closer to the exit with each word he spoke, evidently eager to leave. “Thank you, doctor.”  He nodded, turning to walk away, stopping just before the door to glance behind him, looking at Luca, now standing tall behind you. “Is there a problem?” You asked, feeling the tension rise. You knew that Tommy had men all over town, but you didn’t want to believe that the doctor that had been helping you for years might be close to turning on you.  “They told me to deliver a message.”  A message. Through a man, rather than a phone call. Was that too personal for him now? They had no issue telling you about Arthur’s supposed death by phone, but now that he was threatening you, he used someone else’s voice.  “Have they, now?” Luca’s words were raspy, still out of breath from the movement and the pain, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating in the doctor’s eyes.  He was shorter than both of you, a small and round man, and, even with a broken rib and in pain, he knew Luca could easily overpower him if he so wished.  “They… Mr. Shelby said that you’ve got to leave. You’ve got until tomorrow. If you’re not-“ he took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling voice, “if you’re not on the last ship out of here they’d…” he trailed on, not wanting to anger either of you. A quick glance at you and he nodded, rushing out of the door, closing it behind him in a haste, eager to get away. You turned, letting out an exasperated sigh while Luca stood behind you, considering the doctor’s words. He hadn’t looked at you, only at him, which meant that it was very likely that their appreciation for you over the years had counted for something. They wouldn’t kill you.  “I’ll pack my bags.” It wasn’t a question, there was no doubt that you’d follow him. Life with the Shelby’s had been a blessing, some of the best years of your life, but you doubted Tommy would welcome you back, at least not so soon. There was nothing left for you here, not in the land of Thomas Shelby.  “He’s not after you.” he tried to stop you from grabbing the bag, grabbing a hold of your hand as he spoke, holding you in place. You moved to face him, studying his expression. A lot of Luca came from his eyes, using his words to charm and threaten and keeping his secrets hidden deep inside. “But he’s after you.” “You’ve got a life here.”  “I had a life here.” you answered, feeling the electricity of a new start in the air. “If I stayed I’d have to find a job, and not only are most businesses owned by the Blinders, but those that aren’t wouldn’t welcome someone that got away from them on bad terms. They’re feared, and I’d just make whoever wanted me a target. I made a choice, Luca, and you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” you laughed, moving closer to him and caressing his cheek, gently, avoiding the small cuts. “I get to start over.” He smiled at your words, wishing he had your way of seeing things, the simpler ones, his eyes now trained to see the thousands of possibilities and dangers that his way of life offered him so easily, yet ignoring the other possibilities, the ones that weren’t deadly. You complemented each other, lacking what the other was strongest in. And while he looked at you, all he saw was the image of the wife he never could’ve dreamed of having, hoping that one day you’d be just that. He smiled again at the thought, watching you as you walked back to your bed, opening your bag to pack your belongings.  “America?” you asked, choosing the limited clothes you could bring. You could buy more once you arrived there, but you were sentimental and some had to come; the dress you wore on your first day in Small Heath, the one you had on when you saw Ada’s kid for the first time, and the few dresses you wore with Luca. You placed them all neatly, feeling the soft fabric under your hands, picking a few other items to fill the bag. A photograph of you, Polly and Ada, all smiling proud, a pearl necklace that made you feel like you could rule the world, along with a few memories of your years in England. He nodded, still deep in thought. “Will Matteo be joining us later on?” “Matteo’s with the Blinders now.” “Is he?” you smiled at him, knowing that the truth wasn’t that simple, and when he looked at you, you knew you were right. The mafia didn’t work with money, but with honour. It was a different world from Tommy’s, and Matteo wasn’t going to bail on the Changretta family just for some extra money. “There’s only two ships leaving, one tonight and one tomorrow.” He watched you from the mirror, his fingers lightly dragging over his wounds while he was deep in thought. “They’ll know where to find us.” you spoke the implication out loud, giving you the time to think of a solution. “So what if we don’t go to America?” He stood, his eyes closing at the brusk movements, still not used to the level of care he needed to take when he moved, making his way to the small table where a bottle of wine had been discarded the night before, half of its contents still in it, two glasses lined up next to it but only one used.  “My family needs me.” “Yeah, alive.” “The Shelby’s have fucked with the business, I’ve got to fix their deeds.”  “But you can’t fix anything if they kill us tomorrow.” he opened his mouth, ready to protest, but you continued “I’m talking about one extra day, one stop before heading to America.”  The wine was sweet, calming his nerves in the slightest of ways. “What do you suggest?”  “Call your family, fill them in on what they haven’t figured out on their own. Then we pack our things, spend the night in each other's arms and when we wake up, we leave. The ship sets sail tomorrow at 9am.”  “You’ve planned this.” You nodded, looking at the man that stood before you with a pleased smile. You had spent enough time alone with your thoughts to come up with more than one plan, and this one was your favourite. A simple exit. You picked up the papers, the tickets for your journey, that had been abandoned on the desk, handing them to him with a wink.  “Italy. You’ve got family over there too, right? I’m sure you’ll be able to secure us a place to sleep for the night, and if not I guess we’ll just have to sleep under the stars.” You raised your hand dramatically, moving your fingers around an imaginary constellation. “Then we leave for America. One day, a small change in plan, and we’ll have the Shelby’s waiting for us here. Wrong place, wrong time, but not for us. And once we arrive, you’ll have all the time to fix what needs to be fixed. Deal?”  He took a second to think about it, pursing his lips in thought, watching as you waited patiently, switching your weight from one leg to the other. Then he nodded, your hands lifting in victory as you approached him, softly placing your arms on his shoulders.

“We have a deal.”