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pedges-world · 7 months

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Rocky Road:

Alright, here we are with attempt Number Two, a therapeutic exploration of what healthy, angry s@x might look like in a playful, safe atmosphere.

Pairing: Fictional Pedge w/ female reader

Warnings: 18+, fluffy so fluffy to start, profanity, unprotected P in V (committed relationship), lite S/M, fainting, slapping, hair pulling, food reference...

Picture is just a mood board of concept/themes...

The frying pan dropped into the sink with a fantastic clatter as soap suds and utensils sputtered beneath it. “G@ddammit!” you muttered, literally throwing in the towel.

“Honey I’m home!” Pedge’s voice jokingly drifted in from the entryway, as you smoothed out your hair and clothes, in an attempt to disguise the obvious steam rising from your head.

“What’s up????” you squeaked, with an overt smile plastered on your face.

Pedge appeared in the doorway, and froze mid-stride with two grocery bags poised in the air. “What’s wrong?” he asked. You cinematically collapsed onto the floor in mock dramatics, as his smirk dangled above you, now upside down. “Everything is impossible. Students are driving me nuts, the parents are even worse. I feel like acid is dripping into my stomach and I’m jittering like a f@cking espresso!….F@ck!”

Pedro gingerly joined you on the tiled floor, wincing slightly at the crackle in his knees. “Okay with my boundless male intuition, I’m picking up on some distress here.” A begrudging smile appeared at the corners of your mouth. “Don’t try to lighten my mood, pendejo. I’m mad and I’m determined to stay mad.” He joined your histrionics with a theatrical pout. “Bath?” he quipped. “Wine? Ice cream? I got the good stuff.” You heaved a heavy sigh, inching your body closer to his. You felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin. So tired of being regulated and buttoned up in an emotional straight-jacket. You wished you could take all of this power and rage and channel it.

“What if we tried something…different?”

P’s eyebrows shot up straight to his forehead, “What, like Thai Food?”

“I’m thinking spicier…” you growled, not so gently grabbing the denim bulge in front of you.

Pedge nearly doubled over on top of you “Ay, ay…” he giggled. “What are you up to, mija? You want me to relax you?” That sounded nice, to be sure, but you had always been curious about ALL your capabilities. Scaring yourself with how small your voice became when you whispered, “Let me Dom you.”

It was like all the air went out of the room, and Pedro’s eyes turned a dark black. “Fuuuuck” he sighed stickily. You started to shrink down into yourself with embarrassment, until he planted his palm across your stomach lowering his voice about an octave, “I’m game if you are.”

How the hell did you get yourself into this predicament? All of your fancy ideas, and here you were, pacing around your bedroom in a black negligee, high heels and a silk scarf, while Pedge sat dopily grinning from the bed.

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I think in our haste I left the ice cream on the kitchen floor. We can just grab two spoons and call it a day…”. Something about his innocent tone focused your resolve, as you took a deep breath and lunged on top of the bed, now towering over him, heels and all. His mouth dropped open and he apparently stopped breathing as his eyes fixed on yours. “I’m gonna need you to stop talking now” you flatlined, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat hungrily. “Do you remember your safe word, honey?”

“Rocky Road” he licked his lips feverishly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. You smiled quietly, not entirely sure how to proceed, but cock confident in your approach. Making this up as we go along, you thought, moving to straddle his torso and gently lowering your heat on his stomach. He was breathing hard and holding your quads as you grabbed his jaw and dragged your thumb across his lower lip. “Lots of sound; no words” you threatened quietly.

A whimper caught in his throat, as you stuck your thumb in his mouth. This wasn’t going to be the smoothest operation, since you couldn’t decide what to do first, dragging the scarf across his neck. That seemed a bit too dangerous so you stuffed part of it in his mouth, as his eyes widened to the shape of saucers.

“More sound please” you growled.

Humming into the scarf, his eyelids fluttered shut. So far, so good, you mused, moving both your palms lightly to the sides of his neck and holding with light pressure. Pedge started groaning beneath you and wriggling his hips expectantly. Right. Without realizing it, you had absentmindedly been grinding yourself across his pubic hair which now glistened with your slick. You felt his length bump against your ass, and without thinking you took the palm of your hand and slapped the side of his face.

“Oh gawd!” you gasped in horror drawing your hands up to your mouth and immediately stopping all of your gyrations.

“Whthpnd?” he comically mumbled into the scarf, as his eyes shot open in confusion, spitting it to the side. “Are you okay?” he grabbed you by the elbows, lifting you up, a look of concern shadowing his features. You had buried your head in your hands, somewhere between crying and laughing, appalled at where your instincts had taken you. “That…wasn’t…I didn’t plan that…” you managed to eek out.

His body relaxed a bit, moving his hands to rub your back, “I mean…I kind of blacked out there for a second, but you’re not getting any complaints from me…” he smiled. Your body started to relax as well, a single tear dropping onto his forearm.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, pobrecita” he chided, reaching up with his thumb to wipe another tear away. “This is a very empathic Domme”…Your sniffle collapsed into a giggle as your hips resumed their circular movements. “Believe me, I know how to take directionnnnnnn…” he moaned as you started sliding down his length along your folds.

“Holy hell” he sighed.

“No words” you repeated, regaining a bit of confidence and notching his tip at your entrance.

He groaned placatingly as his eyes closed shut again. Digging his hands into your waist and hips, your heat swallowed him in one envelopment as he lunged forward in surprise.

“Shhh…” you taunted, covering his mouth with your hand, as both of your movements started to sync up. You were thinking less and less, dragging his hands above his head and fucking him relentlessly into the headboard. You could feel him, like an iron rod inside you, as the pressure began to build, your desire white hot and direct.

Now wrapping his hands behind his back in a tight prison you grinded down on his hips, collapsing into his shoulder and biting it. As you sunk your teeth in a bit and started to suckle, his entire body began to quiver with you atop it.

“Ohhhhh…” he mewled, his hips starting to falter and stutter in confusion.

“Tell me I’m in charge” you reached up and grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard.

“Yes ma’ammmmm…” his throat exposed to the ceiling, now covered in salty sweat. Starting at the divot in his sternum you licked a slow line up to the stubble on his chin.

“Tell me what’s mine.”

“Yes m..ma’am, yes m…ma’ammmmm…” you’d never heard him so delirious and wrecked before, but you were fairly certain you were starting to unravel a little yourself.

“Look at me when I talk to you”, you held the weight of his head in both hands, fisting his hair on either side. He was blinking quickly and trying to acquiesce, but his eyes kept fluttering shut and rolling back in his head. This was maybe the hottest thing you’d ever done, but you were also having a hard time focusing, as you milked and pulsed around him.

“Can…I…cum…need…cum…please…cummmm…” he sounded absolutely undone with you bouncing on his cock, breasts nearly in his face. You dug your thumb into his jawline, turning his head to the side, marveling at the pulsing vein beneath.

“Cum. Now.” you growled, sucking hard on his earlobe and clamping down with your thighs as hard as you could muster.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” he spilled forward violently, grabbing you around the waist, nearly knocking the breath out of you with the force of his orgasm. Damn, you had forgotten how strong he was, even at his most vulnerable. That was gonna bruise tomorrow. You started to see stars, tilting back with euphoria into his grasp as the entire room seemed to flip sideways in a hazy echo.

Seemingly from another universe, Pedge’s voice began to drift into your consciousness with a slight ringing sound…

“My love, my love. You’re starting to scare me a little, please come back.” Your mouth was fuzzy and your eyes refused to open on their own accord. I’m tired, you thought stretching your arms lazily above you, and nearly passing out again with the effort. A small sigh escaped your mouth as you floated back into your self, realizing Pedge was caressing your face, and was laying on top of you, poised with concern.

“Oh my gawd, did I f@ck you into oblivion? Come back mija, whenever you’re ready, come back…” A small tickle in your chest bloomed into a smile as you shuddered with pleasure. “Mmmm…” you managed to hum, slipping in and out of consciousness and thoroughly pleased with your first attempt. You were vaguely aware of peppered kisses finding their way across your stomach and mouth and chest. It was quite some time before you coalesced back into existence and found those big chocolate eyes transfixed on your face.

“Are you alive?” he pleaded, sounding a little more concerned than was warranted, considering the earth shattering experience you just orchestrated. “Plenty” you slurred, cock drunk and completely forgetful of the day’s events as well as your name.

“Ay Dios mio” he laughed, burying his head in your chest and dragging his lips up to your mouth. “I have never…” he started.

You began giggling uncontrollably, looking down at your high-heeled laden feet sticking out from beneath him. How did those manage to stay on? you pondered, having long since lost the scarf and any semblance of dignity. “Rocky Road” he mumbled. Your eyes snapped open blearily, trying to focus on his face. You lifted yourself up on your elbows, “What, baby? What’s wrong?"

“No, I’m sorry, Rocky Road. I left the Rocky Road on the kitchen floor, it’s probably melted into a puddle by now.” he laughed. Well, so have I, you smirked, collapsing back underneath him with contentment. “For our next act, Pedro Pascal will drizzle ice cream into his girl friend's belly button and suck out every drop to thunderous applause…” you intoxicatingly rambled, feeling your bodies titter together in laughter.

“Yes ma’am” he grinned, tucking a hair behind your ear and burying his mouth to yours in a deep, languid kiss. “You are just full of surprises”.

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#pedro pascal #smut #s and m #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro

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lxvenderhxzehv · 4 months

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Hold on I still Need you ~

Teddy comes too after Morgan's death

TW: Self harm, Suicidal thoughts/ideations, Self loathing

Once Teddy came too he was in a bed in the clinic. Hayden was sitting at the age of the bed. He shot up "MORGAN! WHERES MORGAN WHERE IS SHE...!?!”

Hayden was alert and quick to gently put her hands on his shoulders. “Teddy! Teddy take a deep breath, don’t move too fast, you fainted.” Knowing how important they were to each other from his sessions, she wasn’t looking forward to sharing this news. “I’m so sorry, Teddy. There was too much swelling and bleeding in her skull, there’s nothing they could do.”

Teddy stopped and wiggled himself from her grasp "I'm fine I just need to see...or-" then her words hit him "no! You're lying, she's fine!! She always gets back up!" He huffed "let me see her right now!!!”

Hayden frowned, sympathetic to what he must be going through. “She’s gone, Teddy. I’m so sorry, you did everything you could. The little girl she saved is safe. People are out to alert her family too, but you can’t do something that will get yourself hurt too, ok? You have to slow down.”

"Noo!! No no not Morgan no" Teddy covered his face in his hands just sobbing "it should have been me, god why couldn't it have been me" he sobbed louder than anyone could ever have . He froze for a moment "get. out...." He said almost too quietly He furrowed his brows "Get the fuck out and stay away from me...." He barked. "I just I want to be alone....I need to be Alone”

Hayden stepped back, but she understood. She gave him a slight nod and moved back to the room’s door. “Of course, whenever you want to talk again, you know where I am. I’ll make time for you whenever you need me,” she said softly before letting out a small sigh and leaving.

Teddy didn't care, he staggered out of bed running his hands through his hair and just letting more out "she cant be gone she can't....I couldn't have failed her like that I couldn't! I'm dreaming this is a nightmare....Wake up Teddy ! WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP" he kept hitting his head over and over but nothing worked all it did was Make the splitting headache from all the crying and hyperventilating he had done worse. Swiftly and without thinking he balled his hand into a fist and rammed it right in to the wall "fuuuuck" he wined immediately regretting it as the pain surged through his fingers, his hand and his wrist he stumbled over to the bed and climbed in curling up into a ball to hold himself as he cried. He tried to close his eyes, but whenever he did all he could see Was Morgan. He was failure, he got her killed. Some how he managed to drift off. Not worried about his hand until someone came in and took care of it. But he was too out of it, too Numb to any pain or any emotion. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to hold Kirby he didn't want to be here anymore. He wasn't sure if he meant the clinic, Huntsville, or life itself

#thread (Hayden and Teddy)#tw: self loathing #tw: Self Harm #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide ideation

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baekhvuns · 2 years

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Man City who??? Idk them 🙈🙉🙊 ugh the "next X" is so annoying, reminds me of "the next BTS" stfu already and let them be themselves! Barca girls? Them I can support!

Baek we're all Chelsea players at this point I'm afraid... can't even blame it on Abeamovich anymore 🔫

Lowkey thought Villa retired, I was so shocked to find him in India.

I've been to Plant Cafe before and it's good! I'm not sure if I'm going to Jeju this time round, I'm planning on coming back in the summer. I'll be quite busy with work so it'll keep me distracted or kill me. I like to be updated tho, so can't totally stay away from Twitter, also literally so many of my friends are seeing Ateez I WON'T BE ABLE TO ESCAPE IT 😭😭😭😭

I see you're determined to post the Yunho fic, I hope it happens soon for the sake of your mental health! And so you can focus on you know who perhaps 😉

Hannah no legs???? What happened!? Yes, I still have some of my Bratz dolls, but never had Shortcakes they weren't popular over here. Also Bratz games, I ate that shit up.

Bestie you haven't seen SKINS?! Maybe you're too young, but this show shaped me (not sure if it's a good thing lmao). It was one of the first "real" teen shows, not everything aged well, but it was a cultural reset. Huh omg I love Freaky Friday, so I might tune in for this, unless it's cringy af

Tasir whomst?! (I'm joking ily Tasir!) I'll give that Toothless ring to Hwa, just watch me!

Tbh I'd expect that reaction from Ronaldo and same, I used to do this shit in FIFA when my teams lost 😭

I know like four(?) Imagine Dragons songs, so I'm not sure 😅 Edgy Aussie band aksjajshahjaha TXT in their 70s era. Right, Tinnitus?! I love the Blue Hour's Korean title You and I found in the sky at 5:35 but Crown and One day a horn grew out of my head???

My first Ateez meeting was a blur I barely remember anything, but the hwands were smooth indeed... I thought Hwa looked like CEO doing aegyo, but junior tutor?! Why would you bring him up I'M PUNCHING MYSELF NOW. DILF Mingi made a comeback too

So true...Baby girl...

I can't move on from this I'M REACHING THE MAXIMUM LEVEL OF INSANITY 😱

This is so fucking funny ajshhahsusuahwhshw

What a throwback lol

This fucking company?!??! I thought no one was as bad or worse as the Omega X agency. Poor girls, seriously, they're all suffering so much, I read their private messages and they were so sad. Also the GWSN's company? They were detained from their dorm?! Wtf. Honestly as bad as some big companies are, at least they have enough money and don't pull THIS shit

Uhm and Lucas.....? That's insane. SM is so fucking weird. Literally whay the fuuuuck, Chris Lee you stupid mf... Some people say Lookass might go solo?! Mate has very little talent compared to people like Ten, Taeyong, Mark, let's be serious 😭😭😭😭 WayV, NCT and SuperM gonna catch strays because of him 🔫 poor Baekhyun too - DV 💖

hello!!

Man City who??? Idk them 🙈🙉🙊 ugh the "next X" is so annoying, reminds me of "the next BTS" stfu already and let them be themselves! Barca girls? Them I can support! //// Baek we're all Chelsea players at this point I'm afraid... can't even blame it on Abeamovich anymore 🔫 //// Lowkey thought Villa retired, I was so shocked to find him in India.

it really is bc those “next x” where are they??? they fall under the pressure and never end up making it,,, i think u know about how at one time rm got every big player as their mid fielders and they never gave them time to play which made their playing career 📉📉 ancelottt’s doing it again 😭😭 YEAH BARCA GIRLIES they’re actually kind of insane,,, NO SERIOUSLY WHAT POSITION DO U PLAY IN THE CHELSEA FC??? 🤨 yeah it’s so surprising but i guess good for him id be passing out tbh if i saw him irl <3

AND AND?? VARANE RETIREMENT??? AYO?

since we were talking about d*ni a*v*s that m*son gr**nw**d is back 🔫 major loss for prison fc

pls do send a few restaurants u go to! AHHH if u go back in the summer you’ll be able to see those waterbomb festivals! hopefully ateez summer cb 🤲🏻😭😭 SEE I WILL KEEP U SELECTIVELY UPDATED, BLOCK UR FRIENDS THEYRE having a london fansign 😭😭

I see you're determined to post the Yunho fic, I hope it happens soon for the sake of your mental health! And so you can focus on you know who perhaps 😉 /// Hannah no legs???? What happened!? Yes, I still have some of my Bratz dolls, but never had Shortcakes they weren't popular over here. Also Bratz games, I ate that shit up.

giving myself this one last time if i can’t write it i will not anymore my fingers just won’t write for him fhwjdh 😭😭😭 U ALREADY KNOWWWWW U ALREADY KNOW ☺️☺️ hannah no legs! took it to aussie as a kid to visit family, went to my cousins place and (left the doll at another’s) came home to her foot being cut off by a 3 1/2 kid <333 i was fed excuses and i beloved them 🫡🫡 one thing about bratz doll’s is that their hair’s are so long,,, i used to shampoo them all the time fbwkfbdk strawberry shortcake dolls are creepy actually good thing u don’t have any 😭😭 STOP IT DO U RMR BRATZ GAME ON GAMEBOY

IM YOUNG JCHCKCKS not “everything aged well” LIKE EVERY SHOW FROM THE EARLY 2000’s 😭😭😭 freaky friday is so good,, apparently ryan reynolds has a body swap movie too?? the change up?? gonna watch it but do u rmr that one movie where the nerd or the popular girl and the ‘footballer’ quarter back swapped bodies the “it’s a boy girl thing”💀💀 it was cute at times but not many ppl liked it,, hoping it’s not cringey bc we’ve HAD ENOUGH

Tasir whomst?! (I'm joking ily Tasir!) I'll give that Toothless ring to Hwa, just watch me! //// Tbh I'd expect that reaction from Ronaldo and same, I used to do this shit in FIFA when my teams lost 😭

LMFAOOO TASIR WHOMST??? OH IM SORRY HE DOES NOT EXIST I THINK?? PLS DO TAKE IT TO A FANSIGN 😭😭 JCBANCHCKC DID U DO IT WHEN RM LOST TO BARCA 😭😭😭 will be me when psg v bayern and if they lose

omg pls listen to bad liar by them, it started the villain yn and king hwa au for me <3 my religious anthem actually,,, TINNITUS HAD ME WEAK 😭😭😭 like the ringing in ears pls hybe 😭😭 ONE DAY A HORN GREW OUT OF MY HEAD GET THE FUCK OUT TBWMFBKWD THIS DEVIL IMAGERY HAS ME CRYING WHO’S WRITING THESE THINGS 😭😭😭😭

do u think he has hand creams for this hand, flavoured ones too,,, JUNIOR TUTOR TELL ME IT DOESNT LOOK LIKE IT GBWMFNWMJC the teasing mc and the poor junior that has to help mc <333 nuna romance <3 DILF MINGI. HAHA. and he?

ur right this tweet, he’s coming for messi’s ballon d’or actually

So true...Baby girl... //// I can't move on from this I'M REACHING THE MAXIMUM LEVEL OF INSANITY 😱 /// This is so fucking funny ajshhahsusuahwhshw /// What a throwback lol

he’s in his baby girl era omg,,, if he doesn’t put pretty sparkly clips in his hair,, HEY HEY HEY I AM BLIND DONT DO THIS 😩😩 LMFAOOO STOP BRO IS TIRED HIS FACE FBWJDHKWJCJC

baek taemin and kai in one group is a blessing,, their friendship >>> do u rmr this 😭😭

WAR IS OVER

this is like jessica’s case w sm??? and the company of theirs is trying to get them to promo as 12 members in japan??? wHAAT ARE THEY ON??? chu is so exhausted the media is just going haywire on her,, im glad ppl are supporting her bc that company is run by petty fucks,,, NOOO THAT GWSN THING WQS SO INSANE??? HOW ARE THE COMPANIES NOT ARRESTED ATP?? how hard it is to treat ur group CORRECTLY

i tbh didn’t even know what to say,,, wayv was so excited for their fanmeet, baek was coming back and now chris lee just decided to bring him back, just when u thought everything was good 😭😭😭 as in what did he bring to the group,,,, poor baekhyun bc lookas would start with calling baek pig and fat and hitting his injured leg again 😭😭😭 i will THROW HANDS AT HIM ON GOD FBWMDJWK baek back in one day! like bro’s out here dancing like rent due and getting hurt and lookas?

😭😭

and uh?

ARE WE HEARING PROMOTIONS???? FOR EVERYONE???? 41 albums,,,, oh we’re gonna be FED

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

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spine-buster · 4 years

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peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | three

A/N: Thanks again for your positive feedback on this mini-series! Please keep those canon questions coming as you guys know I loooove answering them to help build the canon! This one is a short one but it will be made up for by the last two chapters.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

* * * * *

Brock and Grace were having fun. Actual, genuine, real fun. Whenever they were together, they were smiling and laughing and kissing and having a good time. They’d go out to eat at Vancouver’s best restaurants. They’d take walks in parks or along the seawall. They’d get coffee at cute little cafés and munch on bespoke cookies or donuts that would make Brock complain about extra hours in the gym. They’d invite Elias and Svea with them and it would be great, because they were great, and they’d all just be constantly laughing. Grace and Svea got closer – much closer. Elias and Brock were tearing it up for the Canucks. Grace and Svea would go to bars for a glass of wine before going to games together. They’d cheer and clap and sing along with all the songs being blasted throughout the arena.

Fun. Life was fun.

***

“How do I bite it?!” Brock was incredulous at the size of the cupcake Grace got him. It was bigger than his jaw could open. Elias and Svea were already ready with their damn phones to film him. “I can’t…” he tried to bring it up to his mouth.

“Just put the whole thing in your mouth!” Grace exclaimed.

“That’s what she said,” Elias mumbled, only to garner a disapproving mother look from Brock and a slap on the arm from Svea. “What! Isn’t that the joke?!”

“Don’t be crass,” Svea chastised before focusing her attention back on Brock. “Just bite the thing, Brock. Just…just stuff it in there,” he pretended to do the motion herself.

“Again, that’s what she said.”

Grace hit Elias too this time.

***

“You can get us reservations to Hawksworth?” Svea asked in shock.

Grace nodded casually, like it was the easiest thing in the world to get a reservation at Vancouver’s best and most exclusive restaurant. “The Gillespie’s own the Rosewood Hotel Georgia.”

“You do?”

Grace nodded again before sucking back on an oyster. “When do you want to eat there?”

“Oh, I – I don’t know. Can I get back to you?”

“Of course! Just let me know.”

“Wow Grace,” Svea said. “You really do have the world at your fingertips. Vancouver especially.”

Grace shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a blessing and a curse. I can’t go anywhere without running into someone that knows my dad or knows who I am and thinks they know me. It’s even worse when they knew my dad a long time ago and only ask about how he’s doing with his Parkinson’s now. Most of the time they don’t even truly care. And I’d trade it all in, every single penny, if it meant my dad never got Parkinson’s.”

Svea couldn’t imagine living that kind of life. She didn’t know how Grace did it – or Brock, for that matter. She would be a sobbing mess on the floor every single day. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive when I—”

“Oh God no. No no no – you don’t need to apologize. I just…” Grace paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “I know how fortunate I am, believe me. I just don’t think people know that – that I know I’m fortunate. But Parkinson’s – any chronic illness – it really humbles you. Most people don’t know what that’s like. And like, thank God they don’t. But they think they know.”

All Svea could do was nod her head and listen.

***

Whenever Brock sent a text that said ‘come over and watch a movie’ Grace knew what that really meant. But instead of finding it lewd, she’d slather on some raspberry chapstick and be on her merry way to Brock’s apartment.

When they were done, and lying in bed together, with her head on his chest and her hair sprawled everywhere, that’s when the talking would begin. “How’s your dad doing?” “Are the new round of meds working?” “Is he having more trouble getting up now?” “What are the doctors saying?” “How’s his memory?” “How’s the swallowing?” “Are the doctors recommending speech therapy?”

“When I quit dance, my dad was so disappointed,” Grace revealed one night as Brock was running his hands through her hair. “It was the only thing I was ever really, really good at. I wasn’t the best in school. I just didn’t get things the way other kids did. And when I told him the reason, he made me promise I’d keep doing dance in some capacity. I maybe wouldn’t do it super-competitively anymore with him driving me all around BC and flying me all over Canada and the US to attend competitions, but I’d still do it. That’s why I teach at the Goh Ballet. Like…I know I’m not the smartest girl in the world, but I like to think I have a big heart. And I just hope that people see that.”

“I wear number six because it was my dad’s number,” Brock revealed too, one night when they were alone. “I wanted…I wanted to make sure that if he wasn’t around, my career would still honour him in some way. I want that to be my legacy…like, everything I do, I do for my dad.”

Grace nodded. She completely understood. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who knows and understands exactly what I’m going through,” she said. “Do you think it was fate that brought us together at that meeting?”

Brock found himself nodding his head automatically. “Of course,” he said softly.

***

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have you at the house for dinner, Brock, but our chef is on vacation,” Eliza Carmichael, Grace’s mom, smiled from across the table as she sipped on her glass of wine. From beside her, her husband, Grace’s step-dad James kept perusing the menu, as did Grace’s two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo, who were seated at opposite heads of the table.

“Oh that’s no problem at all,” he smiled politely, grabbing Grace’s hand underneath the table and squeezing it gently before putting it in his lap. “I actually come here with the boys sometimes. The food here is amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it? James knows the head chef,” she said. “Grace tells me you’re a hockey player.”

It was at that point that James put down his menu. “Honey, he plays for the Vancouver Canucks. We’ve been over this.”

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully before picking up her menu. It was only at that point that Brock noticed the giant rock on her finger. It was the size of his eyeball. “Grace tells me you live in Shaughnessy,” he said, trying to make polite conversation. “I hear that’s a beautiful neighbourhood.”

“Oh, it is. Perfect place for the quiet life hockey player’s lead,” James joked. Brock forced out a chuckle.

***

“I love this song!!!” Grace exclaimed as the DJ began to play some old school Rihanna. She downed the rest of her drink and slapped the glass against the bar before grabbing Brock’s arm with one hand and Svea’s hand with the other, knowing that Svea would, on instinct, grab Elias’s arm and drag him to the dance floor too.

The club was completely unstuffy. There were no girls dressed to the nines, no four-inch stiletto heels digging into Grace’s feet, no people showing up just to be seen in booths with bottle service. It was completely unpretentious and that’s how Grace liked it. Considering her lifestyle and her wealth, it was actually how she liked everything. So when the DJ began playing pop songs, she couldn’t help but start dancing uncontrollably. To his credit, Brock did too. It was like he lost all his inhibitions and began moving his body in tune with the music. Even Elias and Svea did, and Grace knew how…well, quiet they were. This wasn’t their scene at all but they were having the time of their life dancing with each other, spinning each other around and moving to the beat of the music.

For at least a night, Grace could forget. She could forget how her parents used her to get back at one another during an awful divorce. She could forget her mom re-married an equally as nice guy as her dad but became more pretentious as the years went on and the wealth accumulated. She could forget that she made the decision to quit dancing professionally. She could forget her dad had Parkinson’s. For one night, everything was perfect. Everything was fun. Everything was how it should be.

***

“Fuuuuck, baby,” Brock groaned as he watched Grace climb on top of him, leaning forward so she could press his breasts up against his face. He immediately took the opportunity to place wet, open mouth kisses all over her breasts, kissing down to her nipples before taking them in his mouth. He could feel her grab his cock and lower herself onto it, sighing at the feeling of him filling her up. “Feel good?”

“You always feel amazing,” she smiled, her hair falling around her face. “That’s why I can’t stop fucking you.”

Brock chuckled, a cocky smile on his face as he reached up and brought Grace’s face down so he could kiss her and stick his tongue down her throat. “Ride me, baby,” he mumbled against her lips.

Grace began rocking her hips back and forth, her body moving so expertly and so in tune with Brock’s. Almost immediately, she began to moan, and Brock grabbed her hands and intertwined their fingers so she’d have something to brace against. Brock was in a trance – as he usually was when Grace was riding. He was completely and utterly transfixed by her in every sense of the word, and in every way; from the hair on her head to the red nail polish on her toes.

“God, I fucking love you, Grace.”

The words had barely escape Brock’s mouth before he realized the magnitude of what he said, how he said it, and when he’d fucking said it. God, he was such a fucking idiot!!!!! During sex?! Really?! Way to live the cliché Brock Boeser! Way to be a fucking idiot and—

“I fucking love you too, Brock,” he heard Grace say, a smile adorned on her face. The both of them giggled, and couldn’t stop giggling for a while even though she was still riding him. It was miraculous. “Way to say it for the first time while I’m riding you,” she joked.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said.

“You’re lucky I love you, because that’s such an amateur move, Brock.”

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myonepiece · 4 years

Note

How would Shanks, Benn Beckman, Katakuri, Cracker would react if a s/o being suspect of being a spy ( like undercover marines of SWORD)?

Shanks, Benn, Katakuri, Cracker HC- S/O is suspected of being a spy

Ooooo scandalous 🤭

Shanks

Oh how he didn’t want to believe it- he hoped it wasn’t true and that the person who made the claim was just trying to get Shanks to turn on you

But he’s a captain, he has people he has to protect and look out for, even if you were one of those people, his crew comes first

He would bring you in and ask you directly if you’re a spy, he would most likely do that “I know what you are” but he actually doesn’t its just to get you to admit to it because you think he actually knows

If you aren’t a spy:

He would apologize for thinking you were, then he would assure his crew that you aren’t a spy

He would also keep a close eye on you just in case someone who still suspected you tried to harm you

He would definitley track down whoever started the rumors and find out why they did it and then kill them

If you are a spy:

Literally all feelings of calmness and safety have left the atmosphere

Everythings goes cold and Shanks just stares at you with this dark look in his eyes, he can’t kill you himself but he has Lucky Roux do it

He resents you and gets rid of almost everything that ties back to you, he keeps like one picture of the two of you

Only in his drunkest moments does he miss you, otherwise he only feels hatred and disgust

Benn Beckman

Ignore the caption

He would be very skeptical, he wouldn’t believe it at first but he would begin to watch you closley and look for any signs of your true intentions

He would be fairly distant and wouldn’t share as much about his days with you as he usually would. As much as he loves you, his crew holds very important place too

If he sees signs of your possible betrayal, he’ll take you aside with Shanks, Yasopp, and Lucky Roux (the most trusted crewmembers) and confront you

If you aren’t a spy:

He wouldn’t exactly apologize cuz he didn’t do anything wrong, he was looking out for his crew

He would make sure you were always close by so no one can hurt you because they believe this rumor

He definitely gets Shanks to help figure out why the rumor was started

If you are a spy:

He lets Shanks decide what to do with you, he no longer feels the same about you

Any respect he had for you is long gone

Benn is mature and smart, he knows you have to be gone in order to guarantee the safety of him and the rest of the crew, so he doesn’t care that Shanks decides to have you killed

Sometimes he might think about you when he sees something that reminds him of you- but as far as eveyone else is concerned you never existed

Katakuri

So right away he would be terrified that the rumors are true, not only would that mean that you would be killed, but it also means that Big Mom was right about no one loving him

He doesn’t even wait for signs of your dishonesty, he takes you aside and demands you tell him your true intentions

If you aren’t a spy:

He’ll say a quick apology not very big, he was just doing what was best for him and his family so he doesn’t see anything wrong

He would spend literally every moment with you until everything blows over, because he knows damn well if one of his sibling believed the rumors they would try to hurt you

He’ll try to figure out why someone started the lie and then track them down himself or send one of his siblings to kill that person

If you are a spy:

Well fuuuuck you, he doesn’t give af what you’ve been through together

Leaves you to his family or he might even kill you himself

Literally everything he felt for you flies out the window

This also makes his insecurities even worse because he thinks you didn’t love him because of his looks and thats what made you able to actually help in a plan of betrayal against him and his family

Anyone who mentions you gets a death glare

Cmon people, he was raised to handle it like this

Cracker

Kinda tricky for this one but; At first he fights for your innocence, claiming that you would never do that

But Big Mom tells him they still have to investigate, so he distances himself for a few days while the whole family watches for signs of trickery

When he is called in with Perospero, Smoothie, and Katakuri

He’s actually pretty worried but he doesn’t show it at all, he keeps quiet the whole time while the others interrogate you

If you aren’t a spy:

Boy is relieved

But now he’s pissed at whoever started the rumor and hunts them down

But he stays by your side and has more guards with you to ensure your safety

Seriously he was scared for second

If you are a spy:

He’s sad but feels extremely betrayed and hurt, a touch of anger

He’ll scoff and throw an insult at you before leaving the room because he doesn’t want to see them kill you

He’ll occasionally think about you but never tells anyone, he never talk about you to anyone anymore

Rather embarrassed he got so attatched and let himself be fooled by you

#one piece headcanon #one piece headcanons #one piece #charlotte family #charlotte katakuri #charlotte cracker #katakuri #cracker headcanons #one piece cracker #one piece katakuri #katakuri headcanons #shanks headcanons #one piece shanks #benn beckman #one piece ben #ben beckman

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

I remembered this fic only a few days ago. Sorry. Have the second part.

At least he wrote to Luo Binghe before his little stunt.

He hangs onto this small bright spot like a lifeline as he stares at his phone, back in his apartment. Once his disciple has read the message Shen Yuan sent, he’ll understand that his shizun was just pretending to be a bitch. He’ll probably find it in his heart to forgive the humiliation, especially since Shen Yuan will be suffering from it way more than Tianlang-Jun’s fucking son ever will.

If his parents found out he befriended one of China’s richest moguls’ heir, they might ease up on the forced partying, but alas. He won’t tell them. That would ruin his whole schtick.

Never mind that! How the hell is Luo Binghe’s Tianlang-Jun’s son! That was very much not included in the backstory he was given by him! Single mother, poor upbringing, tiny village! Not uber-rich daddy just waiting for him to join him in the big city, woo just as rich women and inherit his endless conglomerate! Tianlang-Jun wasn’t even known to have children! Or a wife! Luo Binghe kept him in the dark! Or he outright lied to him!

Okay, so maybe Shen Yuan did not tell Luo Binghe he also was a scion of the rich and famous of Beijing. They had shared precious little about their personal lives. There had been too many novels to discuss. Luo Binghe must surely have been just as surprised as Shen Yuan himself.

Shen Yuan holds his phone, typing and deleting another message to Luo Binghe. He doesn’t know how to apologise for the frankly abysmal way he’d treated him.

Just as he’s deleting another string of characters, his phone beeps. Shizun remembers our date tomorrow, right?

…So Luo Binghe isn’t angry, right? He’s not, right? He wouldn’t call it a date if he only wanted to break Shen Yuan’s face with his mighty fists, would he?

(Okay, he’s not sure why Luo Binghe is calling it a date anyway, but whatever.)

I do.

Good! I can’t wait to see him!

…Maybe Binghe has an identical twin brother. That would explain everything.

It makes at least as much sense as Luo Binghe being a pure white lotus and a fan of online literature, while also being a rich playboy standing to inherit one of the country’s biggest conglomerates.

…He’ll find out soon enough. See you tomorrow then.

Just to be on the safe side, he’ll stop by a nice bakery before they meet.

_________________

It is possible it’s the fifth time Shen Yuan checks his watch.

It is also possible his nerves got the better of him and made him arrive forty-five minutes early. Sue him.

“Shizun!”

If their relationship is going to continue, he needs to put a stop to this appellation. It’s terrible for both their image.

Shen Yuan turns toward the call, and almost flinches away from the force of his disciple’s radiance. There’s no way this Binghe, cheeks flushed from having rushed over and wide smile on his face, is anything like the lady-killer Shen Yuan crossed the other day.

Identical twins. Shen Yuan is calling it.

“Shizun must forgive me for the other night! If I had known he would be there, I would have warned him!”

For fuck’s sake what the hell is happening. “Binghe doesn’t need to apologise! If anything, I was the one whose conduct was horrid. I should be the one apologising!” He shoves the pretty pastel paper bag in Binghe’s chest “Here, pastries! You like those, right? Take it as a gesture of good will and repentance. And everything we do today is on me.” Not that Luo Binghe needs his money. If anything, he’s probably richer than Shen Yuan’s whole family combined.

Binghe peeks into the bag and thanks him before setting it aside, obviously uninterested for now. “From what I gathered, I suspect we were using similar strategies, since what I’ve heard about you cannot possibly be true. There must be more to this.”

Shen Yuan can imagine what the people he has systematically alienated for years must have told him, and feel dread pooling in his stomach. “What did they say.”

Luo Binghe waves it away. “Nothing important. I don’t believe a word of it. I know Shizun better than they ever will, I’m sure of it.”

Well, okay. Shen Yuan will definitely take it. “How about you, then? Binghe was…” terrifyingly seductive, “another person yesterday.”

“My father’s idea. He said that if I were to integrate his world, it was his duty as a father to make sure I’m not eaten alive. I took acting lessons.”

Acting lessons! Seriously? “And have you considered making that your profession?” Because with that persona, Luo Binghe would become China’s number one heartthrob seconds following his first apparition on a small, or big, screen.

“I’m going to take it as a compliment, especially from you. Your performance was quite notable. It gave me chills.”

Yeah, chills born out of awkwardness. “I’m nothing compared to him. Just to be certain: Binghe pretends to be a smooth socialite to fit in, right?”

Luo Binghe nods.

“How do you stand it? I could never manage to pretend that I appreciate Xiao Gongzhu or Sha Hualing. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that their diet is mainly composed of human flesh, with a preference for young men.”

“Surely Shizun is exaggerating? They were nothing but nice to me.”

“With your looks and your status, of course they were.”

“If that was what they were after, wouldn’t they get along with Shizun just fine? He’s also got both those things.”

Shen Yuan tries not to let his befuddlement appears on his face. “I have status, but not anywhere near as high as yours? That’s all that matters to those girls. If he tried to prepare you, your father must have warned you about people like them.” He’s not even going to abase himself by addressing the looks issue. They both have eyes. Only one of them looks like he could grace the cover of Vogue China, and it sure isn’t Shen Yuan.

“He did warn me of enterprising women in general, before going on a tangent about enterprising women who are too independent to agree to marriage and instead run away to give birth in lost villages without informing their partner, which I have gathered must be about my birth mother. It’s nothing I couldn’t have thought of myself. Anyway, Shizun shouldn’t worry. I have no plans to choose either of them as a partner.”

Shen Yuan lets out a relieved sigh. “Good. Binghe deserves better. He should look for someone he cares for to share his life with.” It’s not like he’ll need their money.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

Already? He didn’t even start class yet. “Good for you. I’m wishing you luck.”

“Thank you, but I will make my own luck.” With a lack of shame Shen Yuan can only envy, Luo Binghe grabs his hand and drags him toward the nearby street. “Let’s go! There is so much to see here! We can’t afford to waste time!”

Shen Yuan smiles, charmed by Luo Binghe’s childish enthusiasm. “Let’s.”

________________________

Shen Yuan returns to his apartment with a peace of mind only one who has buried his terrible mistake down deep in the ground can attain. He explained to Luo Binghe why he acts as he acts, and Luo Binghe accepted it. Luo Binghe explained to him the same, and it made sense to Shen Yuan. They had spent the whole day wandering around the city, eating delicious food and visiting anything that attracted Luo Binghe’s varied interests.

Had Shen Yuan expected to spend an hour comparing cooking utensils? Why, no, he hadn’t. Was it boring? Miraculously, no. Was it worth it, considering he ended up getting invited over to dinner? If the pastries Luo Binghe had made him before were an indication of his general abilities in the kitchen, Shen Yuan would have easily spent three more hours in that shop, listening to Binghe rave about the selection he could have never gotten in his tiny village that was apparently so remote that even ordering online wasn’t always possible, for such an invite.

Reality, sadly, is eager to unbury the mistake he had just set aside.

It does so via an email bearing his mother’s address, reminding him that his presence to Qin Wanyue’s birthday party was very much expected.

Shen Yuan is going to have to prepare his most cutting insults and, fuck, have to double down on ruining Luo Binghe’s reputation, isn’t he? He can’t admit his error. It would leave him open to attacks. He can only act even worse, treating Luo Binghe as if the revelation of his true parentage did not improve his status in Shen Yuan’s eyes.

Fuuuuck. How is he going to manage being meaner than he previously was to such a gentle soul? If Binghe looked hurt for even a second, Shen Yuan’s years of masquerade would burn down in an instant as he exploded in apologies.

He needs a plan.

“Shizun?”

“Binghe! Sorry to bother you so soon after I left, but do you have a minute? It’s important.”

“Shizun could never be a bother. What is he calling about?”

“Are you invited to Qin Wanyue’s party?”

“Yes. So is Shizun? It’s good that we’ll see each other again so soon!”

“No it’s not! I can’t be nice to you! I’m sorry, but you’ll thank me later. I just wanted Binghe to know that I don’t mean anything I tell him. He can’t take it to heart, okay? That’s just something that needs to be done.

“About that, I had an idea. It’ll be fun!”

Shen Yuan blinks. How could anything related to polite society be fun? He’s convinced that if fun and formal parties ever happened in the same space, a singularity would form and swallow the place whole.

And nothing of value would be lost. “What is Binghe’s idea?”

“We’re both acting, aren’t we? How about we flesh out our characters…”

________________________

Face impassive but heart beating so fast it’s about to jump out of his chest, Shen Yuan steps into the perfectly arranged garden party.

Whispers instantly rise. Smothered but mocking laughter can be heard. Eyes rove over him, anticipating the explosion they feel coming.

Luckily for them, they’re about to get their money’s worth.

Shen Yuan, as is his habitude, settles down somewhere unoccupied and pulls out his phone, trying to forget Binghe’s impending arrival within the pages of a terrible novel he usually loves to rage at. Very good source of inspiration for his current demeanor.

“Oh, it’s you. You dared to show your face here. I can’t believe your gall.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t look up. Xiao Gongzhu doesn’t deserve his attention.

Until she tries to slap him. “So arrogant! I’ll teach you your place!”

Her hand is caught by Luo Binghe, his long fingers curling around her wrist in a way that looks more caress than impediment. “A beautiful lady like you shouldn’t waste your time on the likes of him.”

Shen Yuan lifts his eyes from his phone and gives Luo Binghe his most disdainful glare. “I’d ask you to keep your pet on its leash, but if anyone here is a beast, it must be you, bastard.”

The silence around them is complete.

Tianlang-Jun had never been married. He wasn’t even known to maintain a mistress or two.

The family resemblance wasn’t striking, but present enough that Luo Binghe being an adopted child was unlikely.

Ergo, Luo Binghe is an illegitimate child, probably only brought into the family when the existence of legitimate heirs became unlikely. What a scandal, really.

No one had dared bring this up yet, but if anything would, it would be that asshole Shen Yuan, wouldn’t it?

Luo Binghe’s eyes focus on him, righteous anger on his face. “At least someone wants me. From what I understand, it’s never been your case, was it?”

Shen Yuan shoves his phone in his pocket with a swift gesture conveying fury. “Who would want someone here to want there? Each one more worthless than the other. You’ve really found your place, haven’t you?”

“If this world is so unpleasant to you, how about you leave and never come back? I assure you no one would miss you.” Luo Binghe turns toward the captivated audience. “Would you?”

Again, muffled laughter and cruel eyes, but few open responses. Too dangerous, really. Even if it didn’t compare to Tianlang-Jun’s empire, the Shen family was far from powerless.

Luo Binghe continues as if nothing had happened. “No one to defend you, I see. You didn’t give me a chance to demonstrate it, but I’m usually a kind man. If you had been able to control your nature for a few minutes, we might have become close, you and I. You’ve got so much more experience navigating these troubled seas. I would have welcomed the lessons.” Luo Binghe shakes his head in exaggerated sorrow. “Alas, it wasn’t to be. You have chosen otherwise, so by all means, let’s travel the road you’ve picked, shall we? For all that you’ve called me beast, you’re the raging dog chained to a post, unable to join in no matter how much he rages.” Luo Binghe waves at the air invitingly.” Go on, rage uselessly. It certainly is of no concern to me.”

“Can a head as empty as yours even be concerned with anything? Nothing you’ve said have proved otherwise. As for that taunt you tried to wield against me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I have no interest in responding to you in any way. In fact,” Shen Yuan pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes back to his book, “you’re already wasted too much of my time. Go have fun with your equals. I’m sure they’ll soothe your fragile ego, in-between throwing daggers at your back.”

Shen Yuan stubbornly refuses to react to Luo Binghe’s sightly disbelieving laughter, or to the insults thrown to his face by others. He just lets Luo Binghe shake his head again, as if appalled, and guide his cronies away from Shen Yuan, leaving him in blessed peace.

Just as planned.

________________________

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how one of Beijing’s elite most infamous rivalry was born.

As far as said elite knew.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #the AU where SY and LBH are both online friends and fellow socialites #I hope to finish this in one or two other parts #because I cannot let this one drag on #LBH pov next maybe

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

What About Trust, Chapter 4

TITLE: What About Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki owns a bookshop on Midgard. He had to do something there to try and avoid getting any attention. But he’s not fond of having customers, is rather grumpy and guarded. But then he meets a bright, bubbly and trusting young woman who doesn’t recognise him. To his dismay, he finds himself becoming rather fond of the mortal. RATING: M

Loki stopped outside the record shop and raised an eyebrow as he looked at the window display. It was nicely presented, showing a variety of records. From jazz right through to rock, with everything from pop and country in-between. Old and new.

When he quietly stepped inside, he was impressed. It was larger than it looked from the outside.

There was some kind of upbeat country type music playing, and his eyes were instantly drawn to the far-left side. Where he spotted a familiar mortal. She was re-stocking some of the record displays while dancing and singing along to the song that was playing.

Smiling widely to himself, he crept closer to her, hands behind his back as he enjoyed the little show. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at her ass as she danced around enthusiastically while singing her heart out, letting the music flow through her. She had no idea that she had an audience.

Loki leaned against one of the stands, watching with great amusement for a while. When the song ended, he couldn’t resist and started clapping. ‘Well, that was quite the show.’

‘FUUUUCK!’ Cleo jumped out of her skin and almost hit the roof as she spun around. The fear was gone within a second when she saw who it was and was replaced with embarrassment. Her face turned bright red and she just gawped at him for a moment.

‘Luke! You really need to stop sneaking up on people!’ She playfully hit his chest, amusing him further.

‘Not my fault that your shop isn’t as fancy as mine and doesn’t have a bell above the door.’ He grinned wickedly.

She cursed again under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her heart was only just starting to calm down after getting such a fright.

‘I guess it could’ve been worse, you might’ve been someone important, after all.’ She stuck her tongue out at him, making him chuckle.

‘Such a childish gesture…’ He scolded. ‘I’ll stick your hand in water when you’re sleeping if you do it again.’

Cleo laughed and shook her head. ‘I guess you’ve come in by for your record player?’ She headed towards the counter.

Loki nodded and followed her. ‘I have indeed. And to annoy you at your place of work for a change.’ His eyes were twinkling rather mischievously, something that Cleo rather liked to see. It suited him, weirdly.

Rolling her eyes but smiling, she disappeared momentarily through the back. Loki chuckled to himself and looked around the shop again, it was well kept and tidy. Just like his book shop was.

‘Do you run the place alone, for your friend?’ He called through to her, he could hear boxes shuffling around in the back.

‘Pretty much. I work full time and we are closed Sundays and Mondays. We do have someone part time that fills in when I’m on holiday, ill or if we have busy periods during any events that’s on in the city. She’s on call, so to speak. Often does a few hours here and there each week to give me some extra time. But usually, it’s manageable on my own. My friend that owns it owns a few businesses, so is happy to leave me to it so she can concentrate on her others.’ She called back through.

When she emerged, she had a large box in her hand. Loki rushed over to help her with it, taking it from her. He narrowed his eyes at her when he saw what was written on the top.

The book shop’s owner that looks like a wizard’s record player.

‘You could have just used my name.’ He drawled.

She shrugged with a grin. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

It was Loki’s turn to roll his eyes at her. He placed the box down on the counter then had a nosey at the records, flicking through them.

‘What records do you recommend I play first on my new player?’ He enquired.

Cleo’s face lit up at being asked that question. This was her time to shine!

She rushed over to him and grabbed his arm, dragging him to another stand and looking for something specific.

‘Well, I think you’d like this. It has incredible lyrics, and music too, of course. It’s slightly pop but leaning more towards synth pop. But trust me, give it a try.’ She handed him a record, he barely had time to look at it properly before she was handing him another one. ‘Oh, and there’s this one. No lyrics, the melodies are quite something. I thought of you when I came across it yesterday.’ She smiled.

He quirked an eyebrow at her and nodded. ‘Thank you. I will let you know my review after listening to them… What was the name of the artist you were listening to when I walked in?’

‘That was Mumford & Sons… did you like the song?’ She was a little surprised, not thinking he would’ve been into that kind of music.

‘I did.’ He nodded.

‘Well, the song is called I Will Wait. I think we have the single, if you’d like? Or we should have their full albums somewhere.’ She pondered, finger on her lips as she looked around the shop for where it would be.

‘The single would be great.’ Loki smiled.

Cleo soon fished out the record for him, he was impressed that she seemed to know where everything was. But then, he knew she was passionate about music, so it was no surprise really. Like he knew every single book in his shop, where you would find each one, too.

‘So did you just close up your shop in the middle of the day to come here, or do you have staff?’ Cleo asked.

‘I just closed.’ Loki shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my shop.’

‘I figured as much.’ Cleo laughed.

‘How much am I due you?’ Loki asked as he went over to the counter and put the records down, then pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

‘Ten thousand pounds.’ Cleo joked, earning an unamused look from Loki. ‘No, it’s on the house.’ She said seriously.

Loki frowned. ‘I am not getting you into trouble for giving out freebies.’

‘You’re not. I’m allowed a free record once a month, I will take them off that. And I will just say one of the record players was slightly damaged on delivery, it happens all the time. So we just give them away.’ She shrugged.

Loki tsked. ‘Naughty. See, this is why I couldn’t trust anyone else, they’d be giving away my books for free.’

‘Well, you gave me freebies. So let’s just say we’re even now. I don’t do this for just anyone, you know. In-fact, not even my own brother gets freebies like this. So I’d take them while you’ve got me on a good day.’

‘You have a brother?’

‘I do. Annoying little shit.’ She sighed.

‘Brothers are annoying indeed.’ Loki agreed, chuckling.

‘You have a brother too?’

Loki nodded. ‘Unfortunately, yes. An older brother.’

‘I feel your pain, my brother is older than me as well.’ Cleo said as she wrapped up the records for Loki. ‘And he lives in the city, so I have to see his ugly mug on the regular.’

‘Ah, that’s where I am a bit luckier. Mine lives in Norway.’

‘Wow, different country. Do you ever miss him?’ Cleo asked.

Loki shrugged. ‘Not really. He visits on occasion, I know I can contact him whenever I want. Which is a rarity. Perhaps once every century, though even that’s too much.

Cleo laughed, thinking he was joking.

‘Well, that’s you all sorted.’ Cleo said as she put the records on top of the record player box.

‘Thank you, Cleo. This is very kind of you… But I absolutely won’t take not paying you.’

‘No, seriously, Luke. It’s all good, please.’ Cleo pleaded.

‘Let me take you out for coffee on Sunday then.’ Loki suddenly blurted out, unable to stop himself before it was too late. But then, he found he didn’t exactly regret asking. ‘Then I can give you my review of the music.’ He added.

Cleo was a little stunned, but nodded eagerly. ‘That would be great.’

Loki nodded once. ‘Excellent… How about we say, eleven? Meet outside my shop?’

‘That sounds perfect.’ Cleo agreed.

‘Till Sunday.’ Loki bowed his head a bit, making her laugh.

‘See you Sunday.’ She beamed happily.

That night, before going to bed, Loki listened to the records he got from Cleo. But he found himself playing I Will Wait on repeat for a while as he lay on the sofa, just staring at the ceiling. While he rather enjoyed the music and the lyrics, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cleo and her dancing along to it so care free, belting the lyrics out too. He felt a fondness within him that he had never felt before.

Without properly realising it, his heart felt like it was bursting just from thinking about her.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #what about trust #chapter 4 #fanficshiddles

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elizabethrobertajones · 4 years

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Hello there. I have a question (more like a thesis): What would have happened if Cas told the Truth anywhere between season 7 and 15? Do you think it would have had the same impact on Dean? Logically speaking Cas could have told him anytime.

Oh gosh, yes. I mean Dean’s reaction in season 15 is still the best it could have been really :P He was in the best place and most accepting of himself and he still had a BSOD for a moment and then Cas had to shove him away so he could go die... (Assuming you take the on screen boring presentation of what happened as canon and not throw in the reciprocation, tears, pull in for a kiss, etc that we know exists either in our hearts or on Jackles’ phone.)

I’ve been thinking about this and the parameters we’d have to apply if we were gonna get something like the show being self-healing back to its self as we know it but we were allowed a confession. Also the show has to be as punishing as ever. So these are my personal theses on each season...

Season 7 the confession would have to be after Cas comes back, and everything in 7x17 that looked like Dean was jealous of Daphne and Meg textually was meant to be read that way in the set up for the confession. To make it the most painful obviously we still get Cas exactly as he was all through to the end of the season and he never really says anything too different but then right when they’re having the “cursed or not” discussion he’d bust out of nowhere that he supposes it is inevitable Dean would talk him into going on this dangerous mission to get Dick because obviously Cas loves him. And Dean, who is in a weirdly zen sort of place in the remaining minutes of season 7 after Bobby’s send off and final words that helped him go make up with Cas, is in a similarly season 15 oddly okay spot, mental health wise. At least. COMPARED TO ALL THE REST OF SEASON 7. But I still personally have always read it as a genuinely good place for him that could have endured much longer if not for *gestures everything that happened after stabbing Dick* and obviously making up with Cas was step one and a huge part of his process.

(idk if you’ve noticed but 7x23 pretty much has no Sam and Dean interaction after Bobby’s send off, and their last good broments are really scarce; it feels sort of natural for abrupt calamity and no time for teary farewells in a season with a strong commentary on grief, which also hyperfocuses the attention on Dean n Cas there.)

So I think Dean would maybe be stunned but maybe quirk a sceptical smile like “He can’t mean it like that and anyway he’s currently coo-coo, this doesn’t mean anything hahaha oh Cas :)))” and then idk shake his head and move the story on and Cas just turns one longing look after him like “dammit that didn’t work out like planned”

Anyway then the exact plot beats of 7x23 follow, exactly as seen on your screens, but we’re left going into season 8 and Carver era with Dean far far more messed up about Cas and it can force clarification in 8x02 in Purgatory where Cas is entirely adamant he meant what he meant and furious at Dean for being mad at him and Dean’s mad at Cas for all the season 8 reasons so they continue angsting at each other but Benny’s reaction shots are just 10x funnier. This is followed by Dean’s reciprocation of “I love you” instead of “I need you” in the crypt scene in 8x17 and from there honestly it’s been built up into canon in such a way that the emotional arc of the show has to go off the wheels and I can’t keep to the self-healing model to continue following the “real” plot and contain this much raw power.

Coincidentally, if the first confession is in season 8, it would be “what broke the connection” after a season 8 where nothing was different up until that point. Cas flaps off while Dean is still processing that the answer was “You. I love you.” and Dean is left yelling at the empty crypt like “What the hell, Cas?!”

Then he’s as mad at him as he was in canon except instead of being borderline a really bad overreaction into his anger phase which we have to weather as miserable fans tethered to this ship who know sometimes Dean gets mad and yells at Cas for no reason, he’s reacting proportionately. It’s always seemed like 8x22 only makes sense if Dean is furious at Cas for confessing and fleeing except, obviously, in our “”real”” canon, it can only be like Cas confessed and Dean took it that way and also felt embarrassed how far he went with his own feelings only for Cas to run.

This would make the bar scene with the cupids in 8x23 make a lot more sense too, and after they get the cupid bow Dean’s going to turn to Cas and give him a nervous smile, and then - Naomi flaps in like she does and distracts them away from reciprocation.

I think this one could go long - maybe even season 13 Cas being dead and Dean being like “FUCK I never got a chance to work things out with him” and 13x06 onwards is where we get any actual work on the ship, because Carver era was so determined to be emotionally gruelling and unsatisfying and relentless from one issue to the next. And the confessions are so bound up specifically in the moments of miscommunication or failed attempts, cut off conversations etc that whether Destiel is canon or not, they’re never gonna get to talk it out under those conditions. Cas is only explicitly the grieving wife and jealous ex to Crowley’s smug take over of Dean’s affections rather than subtextually.

The season 9 confession... I feel like we’d come perilously close to the Monkey Paw curse we once envisioned of Buckleming making it canon because they love jumping the gun on plot points and making them too obvious. So the end of 9x03, Cas is really blatantly angling to come in with a big “Hey I’m human can I live in the Bunker look at me I learned to do The Sex can we do it now” kind of vibe. All the enthusiasm he was giving to eating that burrito in the background while “Zeke” was trying to get him kicked out, but with lusting over Dean :P

If we avoid that we can leap to Mr Bobo Berens and his first episode, and have this thing handled by a pro, as it’s already very much about Cas as a homeless queer man with a bad ex he still loves rolling into town where he’s just trying to make a new life and play straight - I mean human - for his own survival. I suspect the confrontation with Iphraim would make it really obvious that Cas didn’t just want to live as a human but had an eye for living as a human with Dean, and then he’d attempt a confession right before Dean would accidentally talk over, like, the L in “love” honestly, to tell him that sorry things do still stand that you can’t come back with me. Leaves Cas utterly devastated but Dean is none the wiser and he drives off and Cas pines piningly at the pine trees in his Gas n Sip.

Again the end of season probably would force the real confession, since there’s a ready made moment in 9x22 where Hannah tries to force Cas to kill Dean and he gives it all up for one man. Cas can just lower that knife and be like, “No, I love him,” talking to his shoes and Hannah rather than meeting Dean’s eyes. Mark of Cain Dean is fuuuucked up at that point but we still get the moment where Dean carries Cas’s bag into the bunker and sits down with him and tries to care about his health and now also this confession. Sussing out what the heck is up with Cas, and maybe he looks like he’s playing it cool and is still so messed up but Cas is vulnerable, and finally Dean starts to reach across the library table for his hand, and it’s a moment where maybe things could have started to go better for them...... Cue Gadreel walking into the library, Dean going feral, blah blah demon!Dean, blah blah explicitly stated Drowley, blah blah muuuch healing and Cas giving Dean a wide berth for a lil while. Though, in this scenario, 10x22 is far worse but has the reverse crypt scene moment, so Dean can be more obviously unable to kill Cas because he loves him, and then he walks out, followed by season 11 and Cas being returned to them. Unfortunately. Yep. Another finger curls on the Monkey Paw... 11x03 by Buckleming would absolutely be where Destiel goes undeniably canon as it is their first real interactions post Mark of Cain. Our only consolation - directed by Jensen Ackles.

Season 10 confession, hm. Poor Cas. He has the option of 10x03, of confessing and then immediately apologising and walking off to handle stuff with Hannah (thanks Buckleming!) or the Burger Date, where Dean may be slightly less stunned stupid but still likely to laugh it off and not believe it. There’s not much heavy tension between them most of the season so it’s possible that the only time Cas would really get is to confess in 10x22 while telling Dean that he would have to watch him murder the world, and that would suck because I love you. At which point the story dictates that Dean beats Cas to paste so it’s a very bad look. Season 10 destiel confession is the worst.

Season 11 may be better because Cas has options to be jealous of Crowley and Dean’s connection to Amara multiple times and then Casifer happens and that can really play up things in a season where a confession is coming.

I think the Beer Run in 11x23 might be the only viable place, where Dean grabs Cas and takes him out for that drive for last drinks before the end of the world. Cas gets the “you’re our brother” thing and just lays into Dean with the certainty of someone who knows this is it - now or nothing - with “You know that’s crap, Dean. You wait until the end of the world and you can’t even say it. Well I can; I love you.”

Cue awkward tension, well-placed interrupting Moose, and then the world very much not ending so that when Dean n Cas hug and kiss in front of Mary in 12x01. Well. There’s even more explaining to do to her. Since we’ve made it to Dabb era, I believe any confessions from this point onwards can just slot into the show as we got it from there since it’s entirely compatible to start season 12 assuming Dean n Cas are literally married and never be contradicted by the text in their behaviour. But since we’ve had canon Destiel since whenever, obviously the final episodes are good instead of. That.

Season 12... Going to have to go with the first sniff of true canon coming in Lily Sunder with just a few lines leaning even further in the Cas’s Angel Family Are Homophobic Assholes metaphor, leaving Cas’s relationship with Dean even more live wire exposed. Followed by The Mixtape Scene where Cas is going to confess to Dean and get him startled up out of his seat, accidentally knocking the mixtape to the floor and for a moment it’s like, did he throw it is he mad? but then he’s smooching Cas, fade to black, return to scheduled programming but the whole line about Cas stealing the Colt from under Dean’s pillow makes fuckin sense, as well as the fall out argument and how mad Dean was at Cas followed by how devastated he was at Cas’s death. This just means Dabb era continues as planned except we get a kiss in 13x06 under that big glowy cross, and some more smooching here and there when things are good from then on.

Season 13... Hm. Cas has to do the confessing and I don’t think he’d throw that at Dean on return from death so unlike if Dean was the one who was being made to confess obviously the aforementioned glowy cross scene obviously would be it for him... Cas could keep that bottled up much longer, especially as he has so much to do with Jack this season. It’s entirely possible we go through the whole season and then Cas lobs it at Dean as a final card when he’s making his Michael decision and we actually see the scene that we didn’t get, where Cas has to watch Dean getting possessed. Except Dean is like, tearful and furious like why would you tell me that now, and anyway i’m doing this for you as well dumbass but fuck you but also how dare you anyway I need to be an archangel now and save our - your - son, bye. Cue Cas sitting there not just in total horror at what happened but also kicking himself for fucking up the moment :P I guess this way at least we can have that moment where Dean is un-Michaeled and tells Cas he’s going to shower and finger guns at him, and now we can have Cas wordlessly and furiously follow him.

Season 14, we get Cas at Rocky’s bar confessing to Dean while figment!Pamela cheers the whole thing on. If there was EVER a time to use the power of love to snap Dean out of it, Cas upsetting his cosy routine with “this isn’t real, I’M NOT HERE IN YOUR FANTASY” is absolutely the time to pull a reverse crypt scene which has such low stakes in terms of neither of them needing to punch each other when Michael is an external aggressor.

My ONLY issue with this is that Sam has to witness the whole thing and we would get reaction shots and I am a weak mortal who will start cackling at them when I’m supposed to be having the transcendent moment of canon and the whole thing would be ruined just because of the way Jared gurns when doing reactions to dean n cas interacting. Wow thanks. Thanks a lot.

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cobraghost · 3 years

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@clxshenvy / STAN.

Billy Joe Cobra used to love getting fanmail.

Keyword; used to. There was a time, not so long ago, that any and all letters brought him joy; he encouraged his fans to send letters to his P.O. box, and though he’d made it very well known he couldn’t reply to them all, he made it clear he appreciated them nonetheless. That was ... until a couple months ago. See, out of damn near nowhere, he’d started recieving letters directly to his house. Which, really .. it wasn’t all that bad, he guesses -- it wasn’t uncommon for some fans to know his personal mailbox address and place letters there, ESPECIALLY when even his gate code was common knowledge when he was on tour. People were bound to know what his house was, and by extension, know his mailbox.But, something about these letters were off. They weren’t just from your typical super-fan weirdo he could shrug off -- hell, most of the time, such letters didn’t really bother him.

He’s long since learned to shrug them off, not think much of ‘em, laugh them off. These letters, though ....they were personal. They knew so much about his life, recited back to him in an attempt to relate to him, that it sincerely unnerved him. He tried to bring it up to his manager once -- once -- and she’d simply brushed him off, rationalizing that it wasn’t all that big a deal. Letters like that are to be EXPECTED; so what’s the big deal?

He just needs to let it go, he’ll be fine.Billy was hesitant to just let it go, but his manager hasn’t steered him wrong before .. so reluctantly, he’d followed her advice. At the same time, her ‘advice’ also made him not want to reach out, though; what if he was just brushed off again?? See, that’s exactly why he never opened up about these kinds of things to anybody; nobody was here to CARE about what he’d think or feel. They were there to make money. And with that fake relationship he had going on with Envy, it wasn’t as though he could trust her to know about this either. What if SHE didn’t really give a shit either? They weren’t exactly on any good kind of standing, mostly keeping to themselves and limiting their time together ‘cus they could barely stand one another. So, he keeps it to himself. And the letters? They got so. Much. Worse.

Over the next few weeks, the amount of letters this Madame X sends him, whoever she is ... they start to pile in frequently. Multiple a day, really -- and he inevitably ends up reading them. They’ve started using his legal name in all their letters -- they’ve started getting angrier, chastising him for not responding, exclaiming they deserve it. Sending photos of Billy he didn’t even know were taken, explaining how they’d like to hurt Envy for being with him -- for not ‘treating him’ as he deserved. If they knew everything about him, why couldn’t they see their relationship was little more than PR fodder? Though when they didn’t go on about how they’d like to hurt Envy, it was always about how they’d hurt Billy himself, and.. though he tried to not take it so seriously, a little voice in the back of his head warned him with dull sirens that he was very much in danger.

Oh, how he wish he listened to that gut feeling.

Because with this next letter .. oh, it all went downhill. She proclaimed she was goin to teach him a lesson for ignoring her -- that she WON’T be ignored, that she hopes he suffers horribly. And to do so, she had poisoned this very letter he was reading. Initially, he didn’t believe her because he didnt’ feel bad ... but after just a handful of hours, he was experiencing some seriously terrible migraines and felt so dizzy he could barely see. He called an ambulance, and honestly, that call was for the best; he ws treated for ... whatever kind of poison it was, he didn’t remember at this point. Hours were spent fading in and out of conciousness; thankfully, the dose hadn’t been lethal, but it still FUUUUCKED him up.

It was then he knew -- he had to write back. To play along, try and get her to stop this madnes-- even if it’s the thing he wanted to do the absolute LEAST. He didn’t wanna enable her, or let her think they’re pen pals -- but, when he doesn’t even know her face, how else can he take action? Demanding the hospital staff bring him the materials to write a letter took pretty much no time -- they happened to have materials on hand, surprisingly, even if watermarked with the hospital’s name and logo. This whole thing scared him to tears, but the Cobra can’t cry -- not when any ol’ rando could walk by and take pics or lead the media here ... or whatever. Though, he will admit; he was so frightened he made SURE that nobody could see him. No curtain was left drawn, and not a single person could see in -- OR OUT -- of his room.

Even so, he struggled to keep the tears from blurring his vision as he tried to write. His body trembled harder than it ever had before, so shaky that he kept messing up his writing -- his nerves were simply too frayed by this whole incident. He can’t even find it in him to be pissed off right now -- though he surely would be later. And with nobody there to visit him, doubting his manager or Envy would show up or even notice he was gone from his place, he felt so alone. Oh, how he wishes someone were here to help him through this ....

#hi

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sadistgalore · 3 years

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Chapter 3: Welcome to Hell

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Whump alert everyone! (Quick note: my last post blew up yesterday so thank you to everybody who reblogged, liked, and gave me a follow! I'm so grateful for all of you :) Like seriously, the fact that you guys took time to actually read my writing and wrote such nice things made my day.) This is the first stop on the torture train, so I'm trying my best to write as much as I can for you guys. But alas, I have exams and college stuff I need to focus on this month, so posts might be slow. But anyways, enjoy!

CW: Kidnapping, panic attacks, isolation, starvation, exhaustion, defiant whumpee, lady whumpee, male whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, intimidation

Harper grunted as she was thrown into a small, cement wall room none too kindly. The door slammed behind her as she was getting up, and she heard a lock.

“Fucking...hell…” she muttered to herself, groaning at the sudden pain in her back when it impacted with the ground.

She managed to get herself up and fully take time to navigate her surroundings, seeing the cell she was trapped in. As she realized there were no windows, just a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, that’s when reality sank in.

Oh god, oh no, fuck.

Take deep breaths. You’re fine you’re okay you’re gonna be-

Harper screams cut off her thoughts as a rat brushed up against her leg, causing her to jump up and scurry back to the wall as the rat scurried to an open crack.

Harper’s lips were trembling and a lump was starting to form in her throat. She tried her best to clutch the wall, looking for any form of leverage to calm her down.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t supposed to happen I’m supposed to be at the station why am so not at the station oh my god oh my god.

“Breathe,” she whispered. “Freaking out will only freak you out, just breathe.”

The girl took shallow, shaking breaths until she calmed herself into deep, steady ones. Taking in her predicament, she took the time to mentally prepare herself for whatever was about to happen to her.

Alright. I’m captured by the enemy, likely going to be tortured interrogated for information. I need to remain calm and not break however they hurt me, I must not betray my team.

Harper looked up, surveyed the room once more, and moved away from the wall. She stood in front of the door, and prepared for whatever came her way.

“Come get me, you bastards.”

She stood there for five minutes, then ten, then thirty. Her legs were tired by the first hour, and she finally gave in by the third. She opted to sit on the floor facing the wall, and remained there until she grew tired around the eighth hour.

Don’t fall asleep. You need to keep your guard up.

Harper yawned just as her stomach growled. She was starving; she hadn’t eaten since this morning. She was just so exhausted.

God, you’re exhausted? All you’ve been doing is standing in a room for hours. Toughen up.

Harper shook her head and tried to regain her focus. “Stay,” she yawned. “Awake...Harper.”

She stood at the door for a few more moments, then next thing she knew she fell asleep.

She woke up the next morning (or at least she thought it was morning, there were no windows) laying on her side on the cold floor.

Fuck, I fell asleep.

She quickly checked over herself to see if anything changed on her person, change of clothes, blood, but everything was kept the same. So was her empty stomach which had only gotten worse throughout the night.

Harper shut her eyes and gripped her stomach, the pain starting to become unbearable as she wasn’t used to not eating three meals a day.

“Hey!” She yelled to no one. “You have a prisoner in here!”

No one responded.

“Hello? I’m starving in here!” Some part of her told her that she shouldn't be communicating and expressing her weakness to the enemy, but she didn’t care.

She rolled her eyes and walked up to the door. She loudly banged and screamed, “Does anyone know I’m here?! Let me out!”

She continued banging her arms against the door and even tried kicking it a few times for about twenty minutes until she tired herself out. She slowly walked back to the wall and slumped to the floor, swallowing down a whimper as her stomach growled once more.

She spent the day falling in and out of naps and growing more distressed at her hunger but still, no one came into her cell. That routine continued into the next day, and the next.

She barely managed a sob as she was curled up in a corner on the fourth day, the starvation she was experiencing was absolutely horrible. She couldn’t help but think how she got here, her stupid decision might have cost her her life.

“I have to go.”

“Harper-”

Harper walked back into the supply room, sneaking in just as Alpha team was preparing to leave. She geared up and not even thinking about the consequences as she headed to her squadron car, preparing to follow the team and meet them at the crime scene.

“I don't care what they say,” she muttered to herself. “This is my life, this is my story, this is my fucking case. I am going to be the one to bring this ‘Dark’ in, and I’m going to find my brother and bring my father’s killer to justice. I don’t care what that stupid chief says, I don’t care what Nic or Beth think, they don’t know what I’ve fucking gone through.”

“Oh, your poor soul,” a voice said from behind her and the detective quickly turned around to see just the man she was going after.

“You…” she whispered.

“You,” he said back in a much more seductive tone than hers.

But the first word she said was all that Harper could manage. She couldn’t believe that she was standing in front of the man that had ruined her life but yet, she couldn’t do anything but just stand there.

He stepped closer. “You grow more beautiful with age, Harper.”

She remained standing, struggling to get words out. “W-what?”

The man, Dark, chuckled. “You know, I’ve been watching you for a long time, ever since I saw you in that circus show.”

He continued slowly walking towards her. “You were only 14 but damn, you were the most beautiful soul I had ever met. And now,”

He laughed again as he noticed her slight trembling once he was right in front of her. “Well, you’re just fucking perfect.”

“I-I don’t understand?-”

“You don’t need to. All you need to know that the wait is over, and you’re mine.”

With that, Harper snapped out of her trance, and slowly reached for her combat knife behind her back. “The only person I belong to is me,” she said defiantly.

“No anymore, sweetheart,” he said, looking down where her hand was reaching.

Harper glared for just a second longer than threw her arm at him with the knife in hand, but Dark swiftly caught her wrist, stopping just a few inches from his own face. Harper then went to give him a right hook, to which he twisted the knife holding arm behind her back, maneuvering her body around until both arms were locked behind her.

“Let...me...go! You..ugh-bastard!” She grunted as she threw herself off of him before quickly turning back around to meet face to face with the man’s gun.

“I’m not playing, little dove. Stand down.”

Harper nodded and raised her hands defeated. Dark smiled at her loss, then nodded his head to the two men standing at a separate spot in the garage, now walking towards the couple.

“You won’t get away with this,” the girl promised as her arms were handcuffed behind her back.

“Oh trust me,” he chuckled again, then leaning right into her face he said, “I will.”

The next thing Harper knew was her struggle to breathe as a cloth was tightly pressed against her mouth and nose, and then she blacked out.

Now Harper was leaning back against the way and she loudly groaned, “Fuuuuck.”

Great job, Harp! You just HAD to go off on your own and try to be a hero, huh? Now you’re at the mercy of a freaking pervert!

“Damn it!” She yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. She angrily got up and walked over to the door.

“Hey, asshole! You can’t do this, I’m not your fucking property! And I swear you’re going to pay for what you did to my family!”

She yelled curses for about ten minutes until she grew exhausted again. She couldn’t go another day without any food.

So again she laid on the floor, but something else was making her stomach hurt other than the hunger.

When she woke up on the fifth day, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, someone bring me food.” She waited a few moments, but still no one came.

“Please!” She yelled louder. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t yell, I won’t curse, but please someone just give me food!”

She was almost in hysterics and still, no one came.

“Please,” she went back to whispering. “Please, I’ll be good. I d-don’t wanna die, please.”

Just as she was about to pass out, the cell door unlocked and a man walked in. He walked over to the wall, kneeled down, and gently lifted up her face with his hand.

“Good girl,” he said as he snapped his fingers, which brought a guard in carrying a tray of food.

Dark lifted her up and leaned back against the wall, with her weight on top of his chest. Though Harper’s daze, she could tell the food looked and smelled like shit, but she made no protest as her captor brought a spoonful to her lips.

Almost as if he read her mind, he spoke up. “I know the food isn’t your first choice right now, but it’s what you deserve. If you were quiet and cooperative like this on the first day, I would’ve brought you some spaghetti and meatballs. I know it’s your favorite.”

It was.

“See, this is how things are going to work here, little dove,” he started as he continued spoon feeding her while caressing his hand through her hair. “If you behave and do what I tell you to do, you’ll be rewarded. But if you keep up this defiant streak,”

He put the spoon down and roughly grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him. “You’ll see my not so nice side. Understand?”

Harper slowly nodded, fearing if she didn’t she wouldn’t get any more food.

Dark didn’t look satisfied as he dropped her head back down. “We’ll have to work on how you address me. Can’t say I blame you, your training begins tomorrow after all.”

With that, the man got up, carrying the plate of food with him. Harper whimpered as she wasn’t yet satisfied with her meal.

Dark turned back around when he heard her, and gave her a mock pout. “Aw, it’s okay. You just need to learn, little dove.”

“Everything you get here is what you deserve. Everything that happens to you is your fault. Next time, don’t give me such a fucking attitude, got it?

He didn’t care what her response was as he walked back out, locking the door behind him.

Harper just stared at the door in shock, not really processing what had just happened.

“Training?”

#original work #Harper #Dark #kidnapping #isolation #starvation #defiant whumpee #lady whump #lady whumpee #creepy/intimate whumper #whump writing #whump

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batarella · 4 years

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The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 6 (Jason Todd x Reader)

FUUUUCK THIS TOOK SO LONG AM SORRY BUT MAAAAN AM I PROUD OF THIS. YES THE FLOYD LAWTON I’M BASING ON IS WILL FUCKING SMITH

WORDS: 10333 WARNINGS: IMPRISONMENT, STARVATION, DEHYDRATION, TORTURE, FIREARMS

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

“How do you plead?”

Soulless.

Mindless.

Lifeless.

She finally became that cold, callous machine. It took her this far just to get there.

It was just about as painless as your skin and nerve endings being burned off.

A soulless, mindless, lifeless muster of steel and hard parts.

To every pair of eyes that looked her way, she was no human being. She was no woman. She wasn’t someone who loved or was loved. She wasn’t someone’s cousin, or someone’s lover. And especially not someone who could have been a mother. Taking care of a child would be nothing short of abuse.

She wasn’t Y/N. She was Deadshot. An eerie mimic to her infamous uncle.

With the cuffs on her wrists, three guards on her side, unarmed in case she could possibly reach out for them, she heard the distant flickering of camera shots and murmurs. Her silence was already something to note, with the reporters eating up this story like worms on a cold carcass. But not once did she look up from her feet, at the steel clinging to her skin. Her attention didn’t leave the coarseness of the bright orange suit, sticking to her skin like sandpaper.

“Guilty.”

Her own trial. And she barely paid attention. She didn’t listen to just about anyone who went up to speak, at the lawyers, the judge, the jury with their whispers. She didn’t listen to their stories about her, whether or not they were true. And even if it were a lie, it wouldn’t matter much. It would only add up to the countless life sentences she’d expect to have in the end. It wouldn’t change anything about her situation. Waller was going to win, whatever happens.

For the murders of fifteen different people. Fifteen different cases. It was barely a fraction of what she’d done just by the past few months alone, not including the last one since she swore off killing. But they were the ones she chose to admit to. By herself. Her part of the deal with Waller.

A trial that was supposed to last the whole of the day, ended up being adjourned after barely an hour. Barely any witnesses, barely any proof to go against her. If she hadn’t admitted to anything, she wouldn’t have gotten more than one or two life sentences.

Now, she ended up with eight.

And after her eyelids shielded her away from more visions of the reality in front of her, she still managed to watch herself being taken away. With even more unarmed guards around her in a circle and two standing from a fair distance away, holding AKs and pistols strapped to their hips.

She saw herself being cuffed on her ankles, lead to an armored car like a circus animal. Reporters all around her, snapping pictures and holding out their microphones trying to get something out of her. And despite everything Waller had said, about her histories, her crimes, and all the horrible things she’s done, not everyone immediately went back to looking at her scornfully. At the far off crowd outside the courthouse, there were a group of girls, holding up a sign with hearts around her name. Her real name this time.

And they all cheered for her to be let go. They cried out to her, calling her a hero, calling her things she clearly wasn’t.

A cop pulled her head back to look in front of her, back crouched over, face covered with her hair. When she got to the car, she could no longer hear screams of neither hate nor support. She never felt so alone. So dead. Dead beneath her skin despite her heart still up in a beat. But it was clearly barely there. She was barely alive.

They took her to a plane. Then on another car. Then she arrived in Belle Reve.

Guards gave her looks. And she didn’t care to think about what went on in their clearly corrupted minds. She was taken to a brightly lit room, and despite it being so lit up, everything around her felt cold and dark. Her eyes, dropped down, she let the guard take her hand and press her inked fingers onto a piece of paper. Then they scanned her eyes, took her blood, took a piece of her hair.

She was given a sign to hold, with her name on it and alias.

She stood in front of the wall with the height meter and faced the camera.

And on her face, she finally gave off a taste of the emotions running through the labyrinth in her mind. Her eyebrows arched down, her shoulders crouched over, her hair coming down to frame her face and her mouth arching down the most terrifying frown.

And her eyes. They looked black from the hooded darkness.

Anger. So much anger. For everything around her. For everything that had to happen.

They took the shot.

Just hours later, her mug shot had circulated all over Gotham, all over billboards and television screens, and almost everywhere on social media. Mixed criticisms. People wanting her to be let out. People praising her to be so brave. People saying she deserved what she got. People saying she should be put on death penalty.

Deadshot. Even when her name was everywhere. Even when the world had claimed her real name for their use. It wasn’t hers anymore.

She will, and always will be, Deadshot.

-----

Cops weren’t supposed to shove him into the back of a car like a dog being tied down and taken to the pound.

Cops weren’t supposed to throw his rights out the window out of fear over the woman who was supposedly above the law.

Cops weren’t supposed put their fear of losing their jobs in front of treating other people with basic human decency and have some sort of humanity left in them.

Cops weren’t supposed to use their job as an excuse to hurt other people. An excuse to let out their personal angers out on people who don’t deserve it.

But Jason Todd, a vigilante who had just been relieved out of god knows how many murder charges over the course of just two years, he shouldn’t expect the cops to be nice to him. As much as they were kind to Batman, as much as Commissioner Gordon was considered saint, there will always be a number of them that are just as bad as the criminals they detain.

They took him almost a hundred miles away from the city. Out into an unknown country side he had no idea where to go to. Not a motel, a gasoline station, or a diner in sight. He must have been in that car for four hours. He didn’t exactly know. Just that it was almost day time when they threw him out, his face meeting the dewy grass and the youthful orange sky. And the air around him felt nothing like the cold Gotham winds. It was fresh, light, healthy to take in. That’s when he realized just how far off he really was from home.

Jason was hungry, throat starting to feel a little dry. And his clothes will barely be enough to hold him up. He had two days. Maybe three days tops. By then he’ll have to make sure he’ll at least find a motel to stay in. He searched his pockets. His phone had fallen off. But he had his wallet.

He started walking to where the car came from. If they ran in circles to throw him off, he’ll probably die before he gets anywhere near the city by now. When the sun had fully risen, his skin now starting to feel the prickling of his sweat and the burn of the hot rays of light, he kept going. He kept pushing his legs forward, one in front of the other.

By sundown, he felt something in his stomach churn and eat him away from the inside. He shivered, despite the warmth. Then he decided to rest for just a few minutes to press back the tingling pain in his horribly dried up throat. He sat on the grass, weight on his hands, then he looked up at the sky, at the lack of clouds and immense brightness.

And he wasn’t upset about any of it. He wasn’t so worried about his life as he should be, dying of hunger, dying of thirst, feeling the heat burn his skin, or that he might never get home soon enough to actually live. He wasn’t so worried about what could happen to him in the cold dark or if he ever actually does find shelter, or help, or a single car that hadn’t passed by him so far.

He was sure he’d survive. He’d gone through worse. So much worse. And it was no different from being a child at crime alley not knowing if he was getting some food on his plate that day or not.

But it wasn’t even because of that why he wasn’t crying out in desperation and scavenging for any sort of help he could find.

He didn’t worry, because all he could ever think about was what could possibly be happening to Y/N in Belle Reve right that moment.

Jason never liked being in the unknown when it came to her, when she wasn’t by his side. When they were apart, as often as he could, he made sure to follow her around when she wasn’t expecting it, keep tabs on her almost every minute of the day, know where she was going and what she wanted to do. It had always been something in him to make sure the one person he loved more than anything else in the world was okay. Watch her from afar. Make sure she wasn’t hurt. That she wasn’t hurting herself. When she came back to him he swore he’d never lose her again. He swore to himself, and to her.

And now it was that all over again. And this time, he might never get to hold her for the rest of his life. This time, he might actually lose her for good. There was no way for him to follow her, to know what she was doing.

And it scared him to death. Scared him so much that it tore away every rational thinking in his head. That was most probably going to kill him. His lack of instinct. His lack of the will to keep going. When all he could think about was whether she was actually still alive and not have the bomb in her neck explo-

Jason pulled on his hair.

He already missed her so much…

He was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t have so much as a picture of her to look at.

Wait.

His wallet.

He pulled it out.

An old photo of her. From her identification all the way back from the militia. From when she was recruited. He got her files and looked through them. Found her picture. Thought she was pretty. Had the files on his desk for months and after a while he ended up bringing it with him. Kept it in his wallet for two years and completely forgot about it. He thought he was a creep then, especially since they weren’t even so much as friends, but he remembered.

He got out his wallet and took it out from an enclosed pocket.

Hair kept back, cropped up to her collarbone and her face staring at him blankly. But her eyes still had that remnant of brightness and her mouth was so subtly curving up on one side.

Jason had his eyes on that little picture until he realized he had to keep going.

-----

Floyd’s old cell.

Waller and her sick little game.

She wasn’t placed with the other women in the prison with shared cells and barred gates. She was forced into the old cell of Floyd Lawton. Instead its walls of iron were three inches thick, solid, indestructible. There was but a little opening at eye’s length and another by the handle to bring in her food. It wasn’t as small as she thought it would be. But it smelled like five rats had died there this morning.

Deadshot took too long to get in and a baton swung against her back.

She fell to the floor and swore she heard her spine crack. For a moment her nerves stopped working, a buzzing numbness in slow surges, all except for the sharp pain at the base of her back.

“Get in there!” the guard screamed at her then kicked her further down. Crawling into the cell, she heard the gate slam shut and the whole room grow dim, save for a single orange light at the corner.

She didn’t do so much as stand up for a few hours. Her head was stuck to the ground, curled up to her stomach just to cling into some parts of her body that wasn’t already in pain. Everything in her hurt so much. There was a small cot at the corner and a punching bag at the other side. That had to be for Floyd. She didn’t want it. She hated that she wasn’t so much as given her own cell and had to settle for yet another of whatever scraps her uncle left behind. She got his guns. His suit. His fucking name. and now, she fucking laughed, she got his kills, his debt, his life sentences, his squad, his boss, his cell.

Everything she had. Everything she’s ever stood to live for. It had all been a remnant of who Floyd Lawton was. Never hers. She had no identity. Nothing good ever came out of anything he’s given her. Only a lifetime of running and money and taking lives. There had only ever been one good thing that came out of it.

And she had to lose him, too.

Deadshot had no idea if Jason was ever going to be okay. That he wasn’t going to eventually get himself killed without anyone holding him back. She couldn’t check on him anymore. She’ll have no idea if he even dies.

So she was just going to have to tell herself that he’ll be okay.

When the late afternoon came, she finally took to standing from the ground, on her knees, then she held herself up with the wall and hissed at how her bones cracked at the lack of movement. Everything hurt so much. She went to the cot, sat on its edge, and waited until the sun fell and rose again.

In the morning, the guards threw in a single burnt toast through the hole on the door. She didn’t touch it.

When the sun fell once more, she fell back against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn’t even get to sleep. No matter how much her eyelids started to hurt.

On the next day, they threw an apple into her cell. Deadshot took a bite, spat it out, then threw it out of the single window through the bars.

That night, she couldn’t bare not being able to sleep anymore. She tossed around in the cot, turning off all her other senses even when it only ended up amplifying the dead, yet raging thoughts.

She wanted a life. A good one. And finally it was within her grasps and it went away as quickly as it came. This wasn’t living. This was merely taking up space. This wasn’t a life anymore and it sucked when she knew there was nothing to look forward to.

Everything hurt to think about. Everything. Except when it often trailed off to Jason. Then her heart would swell, her wonderous thoughts halted. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of how he was. It was as calming as it was painful. And even if it stung, it brought back her humanity.

So she resorted to him. When the pain became too much. When her cell got too cold, or when the guards started to taunt her. When the cot got too uncomfortable or when her most silent screams haunted her at night.

She thought of him.

Is Jason okay? Is he eating? Is he even alive? Is he back in their apartment or out of Gotham or…

No. He wasn’t going to be okay.

Even if he was alive. Even if he was eating three times a day or if he was out of the state.

She knew. Because the moment she walked out of the apartment all those months ago, when she regrettably left the love of her life, she never stopped looking after him. He had no idea. He thought he was the one following her around. But out on patrols when Red Hood thought he was working alone, Deadshot was a few hundred yards away, looking out on her scope, watching and waiting for anything that might come out to take him down or anything he might not get to handle.

She never loved anyone like she loved him, and she often smiled at how they came to be, how it wasn’t supposed to be. No one would have thought it would work, but when it actually happened, it always made sense. To everyone.

Her Jason. Her sweet Jason.

She clutched at her chest.

She’ll have her thoughts of him to keep going. That somehow if she stayed alive, it was a step closer to getting to be with him again. A step closer than if she were dead.

And subjecting him to that kind of pain, when she knew he loved her, too, when he’s always made it clear, always made sure she knew he loved her.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t too calming to think about him.

If anything, it only made the pain even worse.

------

Was that a house?

It looked like one.

It had a windmill, too.

And probably a barn.

Twenty-six hours of walking on the side of the road. Twenty-six hours of no food. No water. No shelter. Twenty-six hours, and only two cars have passed by him. Not one of them stopped.

Jason’s hair was sticking to his forehead now from the immense amount of sweat that had seeped out of his hairline, which was only going to lessen his days to live from three to just two or one. His throat. It was practically as course as the cement road.

But when he saw the house. A triangular roof. A windmill. A field right in front and what looked like a small barn by its side.

He only hoped it wasn’t a mirage.

Jason kept going, and his feet felt so much heavier to lug around like they were sacks of rice strapped to his knees. But he kept walking, further down until he started seeing the house’s porch that had a rocking chair inside it. He might have even seen a dog, running out of the house with its tail wagging and going back in through the doggy door.

Once he reached the front yard, he almost fell to his knees. The sun was scorching and he was probably going to come out of this with his skin almost burnt off of his flesh. If he ever does get out of this alive. But he could see from the screen door that there was someone inside. Human beings that might actually have the heart to help him. Jason swallowed what little fluids there was left in his desert of a mouth.

When he stepped into the porch, the dog came out once again, barking at him. It kept its stance outside the door and snarled whenever Jason tried to go anywhere near the front entrance.

“Who’s out there?!”

It was the voice of an old man. Not so old to be rickety and harsh, barely enough to be audible with his mouth probably struggling to keep up. He seemed to be up to his sixties. When he went up to the door, he stared at Jason through the screen.

“You need anything, boy?”

Jason tried to speak, but even that hurt to do. He tried to cough it out but it was like running his throat through a wrought iron bar.

“I’m… I need help…”

The old man stepped closer, peering in through the tiny holes of the netting. “You look like shit.”

“Can I… have some water?”

The dog stopped his barking, it started to take interest in his smell, on his shoes in particular. Its tail was up especially when his nose started smelling up his leg.

“How long have you been out here? The next city’s hours away by car.”

“A day. Probably. I’m not too sure.”

The old man unlocked the screen door and leaned against the archway. “You look like a dangerous man. You ain’t here to rob me, are ya?”

“No sir. Please. I just need some water.”

Jason saw his throat hitch, looking away out into the field for a short while before he eventually nodded. “Take a seat. Right there. I’ll get you a glass.”

The rocking chair. To him, it looked like the softest bed. He slumped down, tried so hard to keep his eyes open when all of him weighed a ton. He heaved his chest up in a slow, steady pace and made sure not to go into whatever light there might be that greets him.

Jason actually did take a bit of a nap when the door pushed open and he jolted in his seat. The man handed him a glass of cold water.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The dog was beside him once again. This time, it started to pant, like it was smiling at him with his tail wagging. He placed the glass between his lips and savored every single drop of water like it was liquified gold running down his throat. It hurt. All the way down his stomach. But he’s never had anything so refreshing.

“Can't walk back out there. You’ll die.”

“I have to. I can't stay here.”

“Plenty of bodies found at the side of the road with their stomachs inside out. I’m telling you, kid. You won't survive out there.”

With the glass empty, he pressed it onto his head just to cool himself off.

“Here. I’ll get you another glass.”

Jason didn’t want to ask for another but the man had already grabbed the glass away from him and went back inside. When he came out, he brought a sandwich with him as well.

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”

“I said don’t mention it. Folks out here getting lost. Some I offer to help and they end up taking an old family heirloom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But when they aren’t pieces of shit, it’s nice to know I’ve saved a few lives.”

“Yeah,” Jason bit into the sandwich. “I know the feel.”

“I don’t have a spare bed. But you can stay over at the barn.”

“I really can't stay. Someone needs me.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. No car’s about to pass by and give you a ride and you’ll die before you’ll even get to Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?! Where am I?!”

The old man burst out a hearty laugh.

“Where you from, kid?”

“Gotham City.”

He whistled a hiss. “You're a long way from home, young man.” Jason took his time to drink up the water. Just so the man wouldn’t feel the need to get him another one.

“You're at the interstate going to Tennessee. From the looks of it, whoever dropped you off took you somewhere between here and Birmingham.”

Fuck. So the cops, if they were even cops at this point, didn’t drive for four hours. They were driving for twelve.

Fuck Waller and her men.

“I should be going.”

“Stay over at the barn. Every three days two buses pass along this road. One for each way. It’s either that, or the vultures will have you for breakfast. That’s more time than you probably have surviving out there by yourself.”

Jason stared at his half-eaten sandwich and his glass of water.

Yeah. Think rationally. He could at least do that for himself. The heat definitely was getting to him.

When he finished his food, he stayed on that chair until the sky went dark.

-----

The food was so disgusting, it was inhumane.

Two days. And all Deadshot had eaten was a stale piece of bread, two bites out of a rotten apple, half a bowl of chili, and a greasy patty. Her stomach was going to give out any second now. And the hot porridge of something they just threw in was definitely going to make her puke if she even had anything in her stomach right then.

Every part of her body numb, she went up to the punching bag.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her fists didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Even when her bones were basically made of jelly by now. She hit the bag, balled up her tight fists.

Six.

Seven.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Floyd. Floyd. Floyd.

It had been a while since he spoke to her.

But every second in this cell, she’s heard Floyd’s name being whispered amongst the guards more than anything else there was. Referring to her. To what she was. Floyd’s second. Floyd’s niece. Floyd’s protégé. Floyd’s heir.

Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.

She wasn’t Y/N. None of them cared enough about her real identity. Not even the news stations cared enough to flash her real name on the screen for more than a few seconds before calling her Deadshot for the rest of their report. She can't call herself Y/N in a place where all people would look at her for was to compare her to her uncle.

She heard voices. Outside. Guards.

Lots of them.

“OPEN THE GATES!”

“EVERYBODY, LINE UP FOR EXTRACTION.”

“LET’S GO. MOVE. MOVE.”

Huh.

So that was today.

They all had to be armed. And ready to take her down.

She can put up a bit of a fight. For the fun of it.

She turned away from the bag, fists secured up to her head. She saw their faces incoming. A large shield held by the front liner and about ten viciously armed guards trailing behind.

“Come on, motherfuckers!” Deadshot said.

“GO. GO.”

The door slid open.

The shield pushed her to the ground before she could even do so much as move out of the way. She jumped up, twisted the arm that grabbed onto her and kneed him to the pelvis, stomped on his thighs.

Guns started aiming at her.

“Don’t you dare shoot that gun!” Their leader screamed at them.

Not long after, her arms were being held back, another one grabbing her legs. She flailed and kicked about.

“I can walk, you assholes!”

“Can't take the chance.”

A chair. A wheelchair that looked more like a torture machine than anything else. She thrashed about and screamed just as they placed her to sit on it, strapping her arms and head in place so she could barely move at all.

She calmed. She didn’t struggle. She didn’t even ask where she was going. She knew exactly where she was headed.

When they took her to an impossibly dark hallway where at the end, she saw soldiers without armor waiting for her with a suitcase, she swallowed.

“This gonna hurt?” she asked.

“You won't feel a thing…”

She breathed. Breathed. Breathed. Slowly as the chair went closer to the station, she tried so much to hide her neck, but couldn’t with the straps.

And when she saw the size of the needle gun, she jumped up in her seat.

“It’s been six fuckin’ years since Floyd, you didn’t think to have a little upgrade in your equipment?”

“Shut up.”

They pressed the gun to her neck and shot the nanite explosive right past her flesh and muscle.

It was like surviving a bullet and staying awake the whole time it went into her skin. She screamed out in so much pain. It was a bullet. It was a bullet. It was a fucking bullet. She was shot. No. She was dying. Bleeding. She pulled on all the straps.

“Let me go!”

“Take her back to the cell.”

Every hair on her body was sticking up. She swore she felt it bleed. There was something running down her neck. Onto her orange suit. The whole time she was taken to her place, she wouldn’t stop screaming and crying out for the help that was never to come.

They took her back in, undid the straps.

Then she fell to the ground.

“Calm down,” the guard said. “Everybody move out!”

Once again, she was alone. In an old, dusty prison cell that wasn’t even hers to begin with.

At least she thought she was.

“You shouldn’t be so scared of bullets…”

No.

The nerve of this man.

He just had to show up now.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You have no one else to talk to.”

“That doesn’t mean I need you.”

Floyd was sitting on the edge of her little bed, crouched over to his knees. “Get up,” he said.

Something within her, so used to doing exactly as he told her to, it wouldn’t let her say no. She shut her eyes closed and crawled over to a wall so she can pull herself up. Her hand went over to her neck, at the same mark Floyd had on his.

“Don’t touch it.”

She leaned against the wall, arms over her chest.

“Even when you were scared of bullets coming right at you, you were never afraid of guns.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You love guns. You love what you do. Don’t pretend I put you up to a life you never wanted.”

“This?!” she pointed up around the cell. “This wasn’t what I wanted. Not by a long shot.”

“But you knew there was a risk. You took it anyway. You put yourself in more danger than you can handle because you wanted to.”

No. He fucking wasn’t going to use that against her.

“I cleared your debts. I’m here because Waller wanted another Deadshot on the team. It’s because of you, I have a bomb in my neck. I always wanted to be a fucking great markswoman, but it doesn’t mean I wanted to be you.”

It would have probably stung him if he was here at all. But frankly, a figment of her imagination wouldn’t have its feelings hurt if she didn’t want it to.

Floyd let out a sigh and patted the side of the cot to let her sit beside him.

“Y/N…”

Only in her head. She finally hears her name after two days.

She rolled her eyes and took the damn seat.

“You know why you have that fear?”

Her attention never left the ground.

“You know how much you hurt people. All the way back from when you shot your first target. The more you killed, the more you realized how painful it was going to be when the world bites you back and gives you what you think you deserve…”

“It is what I deserve.”

“You think irony is what’s going to kill you.”

“Stop it.”

“But this is who you are. You have never been me. You have always been a different Deadshot. And I knew that. Always. Zoe could see it. Jason could see it-“

“Don’t. Say. His name.”

“This is you. And you're forgetting what you used to call yourself when you were little. When you weren’t so afraid of it taking your life. I never gave you a name because you’ve already named yourself-“

“FLOYD-“

“You are The Bullet. If you think irony wants you dead, bit it back in the ass. Become your fear.”

“AGH!”

She swung at her side, but Floyd was gone.

-----

A pile of hay was actually nice to lay down on.

The cow that was staring at him the whole time, though, was quite unnerving. The chickens as well. And they woke him up just as the sun began to rise, and Jason never would have thought he’d have to wake up to ten chickens and roosters screaming at his ear, as a well a dog with so much salivation licking up his face.

He relieved himself, scratched his head, splashed his face with a bucket of water. Already, he felt so much better.

When he walked out of the barn, Jason saw the old farmer stretching his arms at the porch. He turned over to him and waved. Jason waved back. then he saw him gesture for him to come over and reluctantly, he did.

“Got a good night’s rest?”

“I certainly did. I can't thank you enough.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

“I really should-“

“Oh, young man, you shouldn’t feel like this is of any trouble. ‘Cuz you are going to get your breakfast yourself.”

He wasn’t so sure what that meant. “What?”

“Here’s a basket. Stay away from the chicken at the far back. She likes to peck out of your fingers.”

Oh. Well, shit.

“Okay,” Jason swallowed.

He went back into the barn and walked on over to the chicken coop. There were a few of the females in their cages laying eggs. And the roosters were just strutting about like they owned the place.

A certain one with a smooth head and red and yellow feathers started pecking at his feet. “You know, you remind me of a certain replacement back at home.”

The rooster clucked, then walked away into the hay piles.

“Okay, don’t kill me,” Jason kept his head away when he reached in and felt for eggs in the nest. It was still warm to touch. He took two and placed them on the basket. He did the same over the other ones until he reached the last one. The largest one.

But she had her own eggs inside and there wasn’t really much for both of them to eat. He closed one eye as he reached over…

“BUUUUUCK!” The chicken bit his hand and rapidly flapped her wings at Jason, then he instantly shut the cage door.

“Shit.”

He went back over to the house and knocked on the door. The farmer smiled at him as he took the basket.

“Come on. You can wait over at the table and I’ll fry these babies up.”

“I don’t mean to impos-“

“Eh, come on over.”

The old man had already turned around and went into the kitchen. His house was so small. There was only one couch. No TV. A lot of books. A dinner table that sat two.

He went over to the shelf.

It wasn’t so much the kind of books he read. Not the classics. They were all dime romance novels you’d find at a gas station store. And there were a lot of them.

“My wife left them behind,” the farmer said to him. “I read one everyday. Just to keep some kind of memory of her.”

He smiled. Because he didn’t say it like he was someone to pity over. He said it like it was something to be proud of. And it was.

“You read the paper, boy? It’s over there.”

He pointed at the newspaper on the table. “We got a delivery boy from the next house. I pay him a hefty price just to come all the way up here everyday.”

“They still have newspapers?”

The old man narrowed his boys. “Youngsters.”

He took the paper and sat on the table. Nothing much interested him. Mostly just news on a town in Tennessee.

But there was one, tiny section at the corner that caught his eye.

‘Dead Billionaire Falcone Found Penniless’

‘Gotham City’s billionaire philanthropist Carmine Falcone, after being murdered in his office underneath the Gotham Museum of Art, was discovered to have left nothing to his apparent heirs, as the title of all his assets, the museum included, had been secretly sold out and transferred ownership to various other enterprises from all across the world. This includes all the recently bought out conglomerates and properties from other businessmen of Gotham, such as Salvatore Maroni and ten others. These assets have since been liquidated just days prior to his death. But as they checked all of Mr. Falcone’s accounts, the numbers were as good as zeroes. It is unknown where the money had gone to and why the billionaire chose to do so. The Falcone Family insists on investigating the matter and getting the inheritance that their patriarch had left behind.’

The old farmer then placed his plate of eggs on the table, as well as a few strips of bacon.

“Killed that boar just a few days ago. Pig’s been feeding me everyday since then,” he chuckled, then he took the seat beside Jason and ate up his food.

When Jason was washing the plates, the old farmer had fallen asleep on his couch. It was refreshing, seeing folks like this so trusting. It will kill him, one of these days. If he ever lets in the wrong kind of people. And looking around, he didn’t even look like he had a gun. If Jason had one with him, he’d give it to the old man just so he’d have some chance against the evils out there.

Jason sat out the porch, on the rocking chair. He watched as the field of wheat danced along the wind, as the grass fluttered with that beautiful, calming sound brushing against each other. Every so often, the wind strengthens, and it was with the bells hung on the door and the windvane that sounded so well with the leaves being blown away. It was so different from Gotham.

He pulled out the picture of Y/N and instantly, everything felt even lighter. And heavier. At the same time. Lighter because she brightens up everything there was, wherever he was. And heavier because she wasn’t actually here. And while he was this lucky to have found the help he needed, she, on the other hand, wasn’t.

He’s never had anyone sacrifice so much for him more than she did.

She loved him so much…

And the prison was all the way over to Louisiana. The opposite side of where he was going. After a night’s rest, he realized there wasn’t even anything waiting for him at Gotham. She wasn’t there. Everything he hated, on the other hand, was. There was nothing left for him. Nothing he could go back to.

“Pretty thing, she is.”

The old man was leaning against the wall behind him, looking over his shoulder at Y/N’s picture.

“Yeah… the prettiest.”

“Your girl?”

He nodded.

“She who you going back to in Gotham?”

“She… uh… isn’t there.”

“Where is she then?”

This man didn’t know anyone five miles outside his house. It probably wouldn’t matter. “She’s… in Belle Reve.”

“Oh,” He wheezed through the spaces in his gums. “Sorry to hear that.”

“I should have gone there with her.”

“Belle Reve, eh?” the farmer asked.

“Yeah.”

“Take the bus across the street. You’ll end up going back to where you came from but that bus’s going all the way over to Louisiana.

“There’s a bus going to the prison?”

“Aye. I suggest you go after her. You got better things to do back at home?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the fluttering wheat and the tall grass around it.

“I served my time. Four years. My wife visited me all the time. Made me feel appreciated. Like she never gave up on me. Doesn’t matter what I did or what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“What did you do?”

He laughed. “What didn’t I do? I was a bad kid. All the way up to my thirties. Everyone looked at me like I was some sort of rat. Especially my son. He left the minute he could walk and never came back.”

“I’m sorry…” he shook his head. “And I know how it feels. Being a troubled kid.”

“Then that woman of yours better look at you differently than everyone else, ‘cuz they be the only ones we hang on to. Makes us want to do better and prove them right.”

Yeah. Definitely.

That night, he slept on the rocking chair looking up at the stars. When he woke up, the farmer had placed a blanket over him.

-----

“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

“Get up from the damn floor, Lawton!”

“My name…” Deadshot spat at the floor. “…isn’t Lawton.”

“I don’t care. Get up.”

The taser was brought right back up against her spine. Daring her. Waiting for her to try to snap another neck. Then with both her arms held back, they started leading her out into the open field.

“Usually, we do this far away from the facility. But with Waller here, she wanted to see what you can do.”

“Ah. Tryouts. Do I get this fucking bomb off my neck if I fail?”

“No. It will detonate.”

“Fuck you.”

Out into the bright, glimmering sunshine, she squinted her eyes and shielded her face with her hair. But she could barely do so much as blink when there were five guards around her, armed this time. She could probably reach out into a man’s hip and grab a gun without them looking if she didn’t already know where she was headed.

Out on the bright, orange field. Clear of grass and littered with human shaped shooting targets. They were, however, laid out side by side, closely to each other. She would have thought they’d be further apart. And they all stood on top of a black, outstretched tire that went in a large circle.

Amanda Waller. One of her men held out an umbrella for her despite her being a few inches taller. There were even more armed men littered around. One more so than the rest. A pale-skinned man with a large AK over his chest, a bullet proof vest, military gear. Sunglasses that shielded his eyes.

Rick Flag.

“So you’re the new Deadshot,” Rick greeted her as they dragged her toward the range. “I see the resemblance.”

“She’s even more daring than Floyd,” Waller said to her. “I’d be careful.”

“Well, we might as well know now if she’s any better than her uncle.”

“I am.”

“Are you now?”

“That’s what she says,” Waller raised a brow at her.

“Unlock her.”

She waited for the guards to take out the cuffs. Smoothing out her wrists, she stretched out her arms.

“How would you know I won't shoot you?”

“I don’t. But I’m here to see if you're just a fraud or if you're at least half as good as your uncle. Now get to work.”

Her neck stretching over to the side, Deadshot went over to the table. A whole arsenal of weapons. AKs. Sniper rifles. Pistols. With all the magazines and ammo she needed. She walked on over and picked the pistol.

The daylight young, the people around her silent, everyone turned their watchful eyes on her, guns out, ready to pounce.

She pointed the AK-47 at the targets and fired.

At the ten targets. One shot on each of their heads. She shot it all within a second, just as she told Waller she could do. And at the next round, she shot those exact same bullet holes in the same length of time. And all over again five times over.

There was only just one hole on each target. A hole she’s shot at several times from a hundred yards away.

She placed the AK back onto the table.

“Done. Can I go now?”

“No. We decided to give you more of a challenge.”

The rubber tire, or what looked like one, where the targets were standing on, they all of a sudden started spinning slowly in a circle at a click on Rick Flag’s remote. Turning over the corner, back facing Deadshot, before it turned back to face her again. It was a fucking conveyer belt.

Deadshot bit onto her gums.

She took the pistol this time.

“Go.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“We didn’t have this in our time,” Floyd said to her ear.

“Shut up.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The targets had turned. She had to shoot their backs. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Almost missed that one. She placed another magazine.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Eighteen.

Twenty-two.

The target looked like it was about to break. Even with it made of metal.

Thirty. Forty.

Then the target got faster.

She took an M-16 Carbine.

The recoil was sharp on her shoulder, painful when it pushed her back. She kept firing. Firing. She was slower, took her time just a bit more. She reloaded it not long after until finally, one of the target’s heads actually blew off.

Sixty. Seventy. Eighty

Finally, the Barret MRad Sniper rifle.

The targets started spinning even faster. But she didn’t flinch. She kept her focus.

She breathed.

She slowed her heartbeat.

She cleared her thoughts.

Ninety-seven.

‘Come on.’

Ninety-eight.

‘You’re almost there.’

Ninety-nine.

‘Become the bullet.’

One fucking hundred.

Breaths out, she put the gun back on the table.

Then Flag turned off the conveyer belt.

One hundred shots. Which meant each target should have had around ten bullets pierce through it’s head.

But there was only one bullet hole on all of them. Right at the center of their heads. The same ones she had already made.

“Sorry about the other one,” she shrugged. “Didn’t realize your equipment wasn’t up to par.”

Flag didn’t move his head, but let his eyes follow her until she walked over to the guards, put her hands behind her and smirked.

“I’m surprised you're not asking for a million dollars like your uncle.”

“He asked for Zoe to live a good life. And you couldn’t even give that. And trust me, I’ve already made my deal with your boss. Am I right, Waller?”

Waller’s frown was something no one would be able to draw. Her nostrils were flared up, and the way Deadshot just smiled at her, it was braver than anyone else in the whole building had done.

The guards kept their silence now. Didn’t stick a taser up her back. Didn’t beat her with a baton on the way to her cell. But when they locked her up, they added just one more lock on its hinges. She placed her elbows against the door and looked out through the opening, watching the guards avoid the look on her eye.

-----

Six eggs. The last chicken finally let him hand over her lays and he walked happily out of the barn and walked back into the house.

“Here,” he gave it to the old man.

“Thank you, son. You’re a real good man.”

“No. I don’t… I don’t know how to thank you enough. You saved my life.”

“Ah. Don’t mention it. The company you’ve given me? More than what I could ask for. You remind me so much of my son. Except, you're a lot nicer.”

Jason watched him crack the eggs into the pan.

“I should get going.”

“You won't stay for breakfast?”

“I can't. But thank you.”

“Here,” he went over to his fridge and took out a sandwich. “Prepared it for you. For the trip back.”

He didn’t even know how much he’s thanked this man so far. Who was he? Did he know Jason somehow? Was he someone he forgot?

Probably not. He was just a lonely old man in need of company. His wife would have died three, maybe four years ago, and he only ever goes out into the city once a month. He wasn’t sure if he even talks to people in between them.

“I guess I can have a bite,” Jason said.

The old man’s smile was incomparable.

They ate and laughed the whole time on that table. Jason ate the eggs, drank the freshest glass of milk he’s had in a long time. He had bathed in the barn that morning and he’s never felt better since he got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. It was humbling, where he was.

He could only wish he got to share this with Y/N. He and the farmer would have hit it off.

The old man went out with him on the porch. The bus to Gotham arrives in five minutes.

“Here.” Jason took out his wallet and took out a few bills. “For your troubles.”

“Son, I have no use for money. I grow my own food. I buy only the absolute necessities. You would end up needing it more than I do.”

“Please…”

The old man held out his hand, shook his head. Every time, he surprises him.

“I can't believe I never caught your name…” Jason said.

He grinned from ear to ear, tipped down his hat, then laughed. “Name’s Bruce.”

It caught him off guard. Just for a second. “What?”

“Bruce Larkin. Lived in Tennessee my whole life.”

He stretched out his hand for him to take. Eyes not leaving his face, Jason took it. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Jason. Jason Todd.”

“Young Jason. Pleasure to have met you.”

“You're a good man, Bruce.”

“I may have done my deeds, but I lived a good life. Now go. Bus should be here in a few seconds.”

It almost hurt having to leave the old man behind. One of these days, he’ll come back. Pay a visit. Still, it made him wonder who this man truly was, what his intentions actually were.

He’s only met so many good people, truly good people, ones who never think of anything in return and take happiness out of helping strangers they didn’t know. It was hard to believe that no matter the cruelties he’s dealt with his whole life, there were the pure angels out there to lift him back up.

And, the one thing he couldn’t believe he noticed, Farmer Bruce never once mentioned the mark on his face. Didn’t think it tainted him or looked at it long enough to make him squirm.

He looked back out at the house. Bruce was still there, hands in his pockets.

The bus stopped in front of him and the door split open.

If he gets on, he’ll be off to Gotham.

If he stays behind and crosses the street, he’ll wait another five minutes for the bus to Louisiana. He’ll risk his life and do anything to see Y/N again.

It wasn’t even a hard decision to make.

Jason watched the bus doors closed. Then when it left, he crossed the street. Minutes later the next bus stopped and he got in. Waving at Bruce through the window, he settled down and closed his eyes.

He watched the miles of grass, wide open fields, swamps, forests, and lakes pass through him in the window. He let the calmness help him mellow down. And although it helped, it only guilted him into remembering the tortures his one love had to be going through right now. While he was so lucky, she was suffering. Fuck.

He had no idea what to expect. The day turned to night, then turned back to morning. He was in the bus for hours. Absolutely nothing went on in his mind. And he was scared. He didn’t even have a plan. He was probably going to have to break into Belle Reve. And that was if they hadn’t already taken her away to some god awful mission and possibly lose her life.

He couldn’t sleep on the bus. But he was ready. He was going to stop at nothing to see her.

The gates of Belle Reve. He hopped off the cab and stared at it from the outside.

Then he saw a few guards doing their rounds around the perimeter.

If he was fast enough, he might catch one of them alone. It’ll be all he needed. So he watched the cameras. Found a blind spot. And it was a risk without his visor on.

But for Y/N, it didn’t seem like much of a risk at all.

-----

This cot was going to blow out anytime soon.

It wasn’t even that she was heavy. It was rickety and old, probably the same exact one Floyd used. And Floyd was a large man. The seams started to rip and the place where her ass lays against was as worn out as a dirty rag. She didn’t like to think about why that was.

But god help her if she even cares much about the stupid cot. She laid against the wall, knees up to her chest. The wall was staring back at her like and she wasn’t about to let it win. Was she going crazy? Probably. She didn’t care much about that either. She’ll be working with Harley. She’ll have to be crazy to deal with her.

She heard guards from outside. So she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

Only one guard, it seems. There weren’t any talking. And there was only one set of footsteps coming her way. She hated that even more. Then the taunting and catcalling and harassing won't be in any way hindered.

“Y/FN Y/LN?”

That was a first. No one’s said her real name in… ever.

“What do you want?”

She heard the small opening at her door slide open. The guard’s voice was less muffled now. “It’s me.”

Who-

That voice.

She looked up.

“Oh my god…” she leapt up the cot and ran all the way over to the door. Hands on the iron, eyes watery and gleaming against the dim, orange light.

Jason was the most beautiful man in the whole world and he looked no less than an angel disguised as a guard, half his face covered with a mask. But it was, without a doubt, his bright blue eyes that was staring right at her.

“I’m here, baby…”

“Jason…” The endless tears. All of it. She hadn’t even cried her whole time in Belle Reve. She’s screamed. She’s yelled out in the most horrible pain. But she never cried. And all those days of torture, it came out of her now. Even more so when Jason pulled down his mask and pressed his forehead against the door to get as close to her as she could.

At the bottom opening, he had his hand out. Y/N took it and held it so tightly that her fingers started going numb. He took off his gloves so he could feel her warmth. Or rather, let her feel his warmth.

“You are a complete dumbass for breaking in here,” she cried.

“I know. I am. But I’ve always been one for you.”

“God,” she reached out with her other hand, holding both of his. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Are you alright? What did they do to you?”

She wanted to lie. Tell him she was okay. Even though she was barely even holding up on her own two feet. “Just about how every prisoner gets treated here…”

“Fuck… Y/N…”

His thumb over her skin, she never felt so happy over something that was never going to last.

“I swear I’ll do anything to get you out.”

“Jay…” she cried. “You’ll die…”

“And if I don’t, you’ll die.”

“I’ll be alright. They’ll let you visit. After a while. I think. I’m not too sure.”

“I’m not taking that chance.”

“Jay-“

“No. I mean it. I’m not going to let this go. You can't possibly expect me to move on…”

No. She didn’t. Not without the worst kinds of pain that’ll possibly drive him mad.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Look at me.”

She did. He was so beautiful…

“I’ll get you out. You won't have to suffer for long. I’ll make sure of it. One way or another, I’m getting you out.”

He’s never held his hand so tight.

“Okay…”

Footsteps. They were coming.

“Shit…”

“I love you.”

“I love you so much. I promise you. I’m getting you out of here, Y/N.”

Y/N. She was Y/N again. Always had been.

Jason stuffed something small into her palm.

Then he left before the other guard could turn to the corner and see them together. He looked at Y/N, who was staring out the opening.

The guard squinted at her, walked closer, then shut the hole closed.

She looked at her palm.

The brightest blue engagement ring stared right back at her.

-----

Jason had to get out.

But he had to do this fast. He was at the guard’s lounge, where plenty were taking their lunch breaks. They didn’t give him so much as a glance when their eyes were focused onto the TV watching a football game. There was a telephone at a wall nearby. One he didn’t have to pay for.

He walked to it.

When he said he’ll do everything, he meant everything.

His pride could fucking suck it. His ego can die. He didn’t care if those assholes will have to think he’d grown soft. This was about Y/N. He didn’t care if he had to strut naked out at the Gotham Plaza. Though, this was so much worse.

Farmer Bruce would have done the same.

And he was going to get all the help he needed.

“Hello?”

“Dick,” his mouth trembled against the phone. “It’s me. Jason.”

“Jason?! This is a fucking collect call-“

“Then you better listen. Y/N’s in prison.”

“What?!”

He told him everything. About the deal with Waller. Her place in the Squad. The bomb in her neck. He tried with all he can to sound as desperate as he actually was. Dick, as much as it pained him to hear, wasn’t so convinced in what he asked of him.

“Jason, if you're asking me to help you get her out-“

“Please. Please. She’ll die. We need Oracle. And Robin.”

“Jason...” He heard Dick sigh.

The cops roared at the TV. Someone scored a goal.

“What Waller’s doing is wrong. You know that.”

“I know, but she made a deal with Bruce that he wasn’t to interfere with her task force.”

“We’re not Bruce. This is Y/N. Please, Dick, she’s the only thing I’ve got… You say you want me back in the family. Well, she’s my family. And I swear, if you help me with this, I owe you my life.”

“Okay. Okay,” he let out a sigh. “Okay. She’s… I understand.”

Jason’s breath was shaking against the phone. “I should be back in Gotham in a day’s time.”

“We need to do this as legally as possible. What did you have in mind?”

“I’m- I’m not so sure. It’s impossible to break her out of this place. They’ve upped the security since Harley broke out.”

“So we wait?”

“On her first mission out with the squad. We can go with them and sneak her out when no one’s looking. And I’ll need Oracle to come up with something that can disable the bomb in her neck.”

“Jason, that could be months from now.”

“Or days. Waller seemed persistent to get her here. I thought she might have been preparing for something. You heard about the news on Falcone?“

“Yeah. Real shady stuff. All his money went out to so many ghost accounts under different names of people that don’t even exist. And they’ve all been withdrawn. That’s billions of dollars.”

“Exactly. What if it’s just one guy? Waller knew about Falcone. She’s been warning Y/N not to work for him for a while. What if she knows exactly who’s behind it the whole time? Falcone’s puppet master to get him the money he needed?”

“That’s a long list of suspects, Jay.”

“We can narrow it dow-“

Loud groans from the guards screaming boos at the TV. When he looked up, he saw the game had been interrupted by breaking news.

Jason stopped talking to Dick when he saw the picture on the screen.

“Jason? You there?”

“Dick… Turn on the news…”

“Reports from Gotham City where it seems to have had history repeat itself from the night before the Arkham Knight Militia occupation. The National Bank of Gotham had just been exposed to a familiar cloud of fear toxin. One-hundred twenty-six people were inside the building as the smoke dispersed, and almost all of them had fallen victim from the bank’s armed guard, who had used his gun to massacre more than twenty people in the building. The victims were shown to have displayed severe cases of mania and hallucinations, causing them to act almost inhumane and do countless of harmful acts.”

“Fuck…” Dick said to the phone. “Not again…”

“The man behind this infamous toxin is no other than Dr. Jonathan Crane, also known by his alias as the Scarecrow-“

Vicki Vale stopped talking to the camera and pressed on her earpiece.

“Hold on. I’m getting reports on Scarecrow releasing a broadcast over at Times’ Square. Air it now!”

The camera switched over to one at the square. It faced the billboard.

Nothing changed. Not even his face. And if he weren’t paying attention, if Jason hadn’t been behind the camera the first time Scarecrow released his city wide warning, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

“This city… cannot so easily escape my reign of fear… If you thought the last time was the worst I can do, I am telling you now… Citizens of Gotham. This is no longer just about you. You can no longer escape. There is no use in evacuating… I have amassed a new Cloudburst weapon powerful enough to engulf the whole of the country in my latest toxin… This is not a warning to Gotham.

“This… is my only warning… to America…”

“Dick…” Jason said over to the phone. “Wanna bet on where he got the funding for that weapon?”

-----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

------

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916@icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx@arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05flowersgirl02 @l-inkage @hyp-oh-critical

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #suicide squad #floyd lawton #reader insert

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