#a hitman of sorts I’m assuming

[ovaryacted]

Damn guys…I’m gonna want to fuck Clint too aren’t I??

[imaginedreamwrite]

Soft dark John Price

He commands his own criminal enterprise, similar to Simon

Instead of Gaz being a hitman, I raise you: he’s Price’s second in command

Price’s reader has a little sister. Their parents died and she assumed full custody.

The little sister drops one of her hairbows and John picks it up

Or if the sister is a little older, she could have been trying to pick pocket John🤣

When reader locks eyes with price, yea he was doomed to be obsessed from the start

An alternative option for this Gaz where he’s Price’s right hand man? I like it!

“I know this is really difficult, I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry. Han, I’m so sorry-” he runs his finger along the silky hair bow in his hands while he listens to the conversation taking place only feet from him.

John was an observant man, and he was even better at reading people. Hell, that is partially why he had such a strong hold on this city, on these counties, because he was smart and observant. When he had first seen the little girl, no older than 5 years old wearing a school uniform heading toward the Tube, he was puzzled.

Until he saw a similarly looking woman trailing after the little girl carrying a backpack, keys, water bottle, jacket the girl didn’t want to wear, and an umbrella. John wondered if maybe the little girl was this woman’s daughter but no—this woman was too young.

He followed them to the Tube, streaming in through the flow of traffic, watching the girl skipping ahead. Every step she took, the woman took, only she struggled to take everything. And then, as the crowd started to dissipate, John saw them stop.

The little girl was upset, huddled by the wall because she lost on one her favourite hairbows. She needed the hairbow, it was her first day of kindergarten, she needed to look pretty for her first day.

The hairbow that John had picked up off the ground, belonged to her.

“Han, I’m trying my best, mom and dad are gone, and I’m-” John watched you both, observing you as you spoke with your sister.

“Y’alright love?” John approached the quiet corner you were both in, stopping a few feet away. “Noticed it on the ground, thought she might need it.”

You turned your head in his direction, looking up at him while crouched before your sister. She was fussing over the backpack, one that looked like it had seen better days, trying to get the straps right. You were trying to balance everything in your arms and deal with your sister, of which you clearly had guardianship over.

“My bow!” Your sister, John assumed her name was Hannah, had exclaimed with excitement as she reached for the bow and secured it back above one of her pigtails.

“Hannah that was rude.” You scolded her and sighed, slowly standing again, finding your balance while she adjusted the bow’s position. “Thank you.”

When you thanked John in your sister’s place, he smiled small and cordially. Externally he was a picture of a sophisticated and well dressed man, you’d of thought he was a business man, and he was of sorts—just not how one would imagine.

“No problem, love.” He slips a hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone while the rests on his hip. “First day of school, nervous?”

“I’m in kindergarten at St. Catherine’s!” Your sister had no concept of danger, no understanding of how telling someone that information could be harmful.

“Han, we talked about this,” but once again, you were right on top of it, “you can’t tell people where you go to school because-”

“-stranger danger. Sorry, I forget.” The little girl frowned and scuffed her shoe against the ground, kicking a small stone away.

“Lot of dangerous people out there,” John removed his phone and began typing on his phone, sending a message to his second in command to find out as much about you as possible.

“Are you a bad person, mister?” She asked innocently, a till of her head and her innocent eyes drawing a natural chuckle from John.

“Hannah! We don’t ask questions like that!” You scold her again, gently yet firmly, and take her hand once the train you’re waiting for arrives.

“Depends on who you ask, eh?” John grins and winks at your sister, making the young girl giggle regardless of the caution you feel for John Price.

“This is our train, Han. We have to go.” You gather your things once more, playing a balancing act while trying to keep track of Hannah. “Thanks for finding the bow-“

“John Price,” he flashes you one of those smiles that can disarm almost anyone, waiting for one pivotal moment in this conversation, “and you are-”

“Y/N L/N!” Your sister chirps up, giving him exactly what he needs. “By mister!”

Your sister tugs on your hand and you follow quickly, taking off after her. John waits until you’re on the train, until the doors shut, and then he finishes his message to Gaz.

Find everything you can about these two, I want all records. No one touches them, if they do it’ll be their death warrant

John always wanted a family of his own, and he knows he’d be a damn good step daddy for your sister.

And he’s sure your sister will be over the moon to have a baby brother or sister on the way.

[natsuyuki-w]

Desire

Fandom delicious in Dangeon Mithrun of Kerensil x gn!reader " Mithrun of the house of Kerensil, I offer you my strength, my care, and my life. By the duty I once held, and the heed I now give, I swear it. Let it be done. "

1535 words

- Of course! If you think my assistance could be useful, then I am at your command.- You rose from a deep bow, your prosthetics clicking softly in the quiet hall, the sound echoing faintly as you met the sharp scrutinizing gaze of the elven minister. - Though I have to admit,- you added with a hint of dry humor, -I can't say I expected something like this.-

Idle chit-chat was hardly typical of the kingdom's summons, especially with the past month’s chaos, you’d assumed they’d have other priorities.

Not that you’d complain, better a light assignment then something hideous like hitman work.

The man, stoic as ever, offered no further explanation, only waited for your commitment.

-Well then…- you murmured, drawing a breath. Turning, you faced the ash-blond beside, his expression reserved, but gaze intense. Bowing again, you began, - As I stand before you, Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, I renew the vow I once swore to the Queen of all elven kind and the bright kingdom she reigns. Though I no longer wield a blade, I offer you my strength, my care, and my life. I shall be your ally and shield. Your well-being is mine to protect, your burdens my own to bear. By the duty I once held, and the heed I now give, I swear it. Let it be done.-

You relished the regal theatrics, and peering at the intimidating Captain of the Canaries, it had been worth it. Wide-eyed stare, a look that could only be called lost, like a kitten stranded on the wrong branch. Stifling a giggle, you winked. - Thank you for your service, Captain. Now you can retire… with another old folk. -

Outside the palace, Mithrun trailed quietly beside you, keeping closer than expected as you boarded the ship. - Welcome back! - called the ship’s captain, striding over with the crew behind her. - Why, thank you for your hospitality! - your reverenced with elaborate flourish. - Did you get everything sorted out? - the first mate asked, slinging his broad arm around your shoulders.

You were soon surrounded and engaged amused by the enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the ex Canaries, hovered in the background, observing the apparent reunion with a slightly narrowed gaze.

- Who’s the… uh… twig tagging along— The big man stopped short, blanching as he recognized the elf. - Captain Mithrun! M-Mithrun of Kerensil, I… uh… didn’t mean— Without acknowledging the apologies, the skinny elf reached out and took your wrist, quietly steering you away from the group.

A bit surprised, you let him lead. After all thanks to your job, you’d encountered all sorts over the years. So even someone as brisk as Mithrun was no novelty.

Between greetings and nods, the two of you eventually found at last quiet on the ship's poop deck and he broke the silence. - Why are you no longer in the army? - - Oh? They didn’t brief you on my… situation? - - Drop the formalities. - he ordered, sounding utterly formal doing so.

- Sure —buddy - you teased, obviously amused by the dichotomy. - I’ll take it to heart. Now, why don’t we—? - - Why? - he repeated, dead serious. You raised a brow, studying him. - I thought curiosity was the last thing you’d be hanging onto, Captain. -

-...-

Laughter bubbled up before you could stop it. His blank expression was just too much - S-sorry, sorry… - you wiped a tear from your eye, and rolling up your sleeve, revealed your arm. Metal met flesh at your elbow - I’m missing a few… assets… to be a soldier these days - you pointed out, showing him the prosthetic. - Plus, I've been drained of mana. Can’t do much without that too.”

- Couldn’t they just… fix you?- he asked, more interested than you’d expected. - You know better than I that some things can’t be fixed.- You made a small circle with your fingers, peering at his bad eye.

His quiet nod suggested that he understood, though the way he continued to stare was holding expectations for a continuing. - Persistent, aren’t you? Bit late for a background check, don’t you think? - you smirked. - I need to know how troublesome the situation may be. - he replied flatly.

- Ouch. - You placed a hand over your heart in mock hurt. - I don’t even have jabs in my ears.- Proof that you weren’t branded a criminal by the Queen. The elf’s reaction was another blank look, - How about this, a story for a story. - You held out your hand.

Mithrun ignored the sign but nodded in agreement. - Very well. - - O—oh, good! - you weren't expecting to be that easy - Then my question is…-

Before you could finish, a bell rang, signaling the ship’s imminent departure. The clang covered the rest of your words. - If you really want the story, it’ll take a while - he cautioned as the ship began to sway.

- That's fine. - You stretched lazily. - Oh! I could prepare you something in the meantime. Word has it you often forget your own basic needs…- You eyed his unkempt state. It was clear he hadn’t seen a proper bath in ages. - Come on. - and again to your surprise, he followed, letting you tend to him.

You guided Mithrun through a full routine of health and wellness, complete with herbal infusions, explaining the properties of each blend as he listened. You scrubbed his scalp in warm suds, steam rising around him as you rinsed his hair in the bathhouse’s soothing wood-scented mist.

By the time he sat down for a meal, the kitchen’s noise had mellowed, the space feeling homier, welcoming. He ate a bowl of your creamy stew, the warmth filling him as he sat, finally relaxing.

On the other hand, the elf had drained you on a journey to his past.

Other than the weight of his tales, he was a terrible storyteller. Skipping crucial details and hyper-focusing on minor ones. Yet, in his odd mannerisms, you were hooked, hanging on his every word, more curious than ever about your future together.

- That’s freaky as… well, hell - you marveled, finally moving out and staring over the horizon, reflecting on his stories. - I had no idea Dungeons had that sort of "mechanics".- The memories stirred a quiet thoughtfulness in you, recalling your own share of horrors.

- Why did you lose your limbs and magic? - Mithrun’s voice broke your reverie as he leaned in close, the intensity of his gaze startling. - Whoa! You don’t beat around the bush, do you?- laughed and took a step back. - Ever heard of suspense—

Before you could finish, felt a sudden shift, then, in an instant, the deck disappeared beneath you, the world flashing from salty breeze to icy seawater in a blink. A few bubbles escaped your mouth in surprise, but with a bit of thrashing, you found your way to the surface, gasping for breath.

Amid the splashing, you could hear the loud shouts and following the ruckes, your gaze shifted upwords deck. There he was, staring down with his dark gaze looking all too pleased with himself.

You spluttered but quickly dissolved into laughter, the absurdity of it all too perfect to resist. And if you weren’t mistaken, you saw the shadow of a smile on his lips as well.

- What happened? - shouted the first mate already throwing a lifeboat to reach you. Thanks to his large strides, it took him little to come, the wooden sloop shaking from the unsteady grip of his worry - A-are you hurt? - now floating on your back, still giggling like a maniac, you waved him off, and just as your hand reached for his, another surprise.

- Mphf— the air knocked out of your lungs, but this time from the impact of a solid surface. The ex-captain miscalculation of his own strength, brought the both of you on the wooden floor.

You had fallen on top of him, one of his slanky arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. Drenched and dizzy, you gazed up at him. Droplets ran down his ragged yet delicate face, and you could now confirm that glint of amusement in those black pools.

“… I’m gonna throw up,” you gulped and stumbling hurried over the edge of the rail.

After asking the crew to fetch him a towel, Mithrun sighed and remarked, “That’s what you get for being so… stubborn.” You caught your breath, sending him a teasing reply - I’d say we’re a good match, Mr. "I Don’t Need to Eat".-

A ripple of chuckles rolled around the deck as the crew began calling down. Convinced you’d been snatched by a sea monster the desperate sailor had jumped in the icy waters and when attracted by his mates’ voices, finally spotted you giving a lazy wave.

“Still not tired of waiting?” you asked, glancing at Mithrun. - A story for a story, that's what you promised. - he reminded, dark gaze unwavering. - True…- You shrugged with a sly grin. - But I never said when I’d tell it. -

-...-

You took a step back, hoping for some safe distance. - OKAY, OKAY! No more baths!- The other elf shook his head - You sure are a fan of the dramatics. I’m sure it’s not even that big a story. -

- First off… correct. - you admitted - Second… well, I didn’t want to look too lame to my new employer. But I guess after this… I’ll survive the embarrassment. -

To be continued...

[huskynotwolf]

Convexian Hitman AU

Part 1 I guess

AU by @tibbycaps/ @tibby-art

Written by @thecrazyhusky

(I mixed in dsmp, it’s more fun with those swearing idiots :D )

Mission: Find and destroy target’s weapon supply (target’s name is Tubbo and Jack Manifold)

Cub’s PoV

“I want you to destroy his weapons.” Doc looked at us, dead serious.

We (me and Scar) were in the NHO’s conference room, listening to Bdubs rant about this new case we had to deal with. Scar had already yawned at least two times and I had grabbed every single one of their cans of carbonated drinks or whatever at the table and shook them so hard they looked like ticking bombs. Etho was also eyeing us with much suspicion, and I suspected he was up to something.

“All of them?” I asked.

“All of them.” The goat-creeper confirmed. “He was some sort of former president of a country. He’s got some ass-load of explosives. Specifically, bombs. Lots of those.”

“Ah.” Scar smiled. “Big boom.”

“Really?” I looked at him.

“And here are the conditions, since you three are definitely gonna loophole out of this.” Doc growled.

“You have to get this done by this week, which is three days. No eating anyone, and I mean anyone. You find those explosives, disable them, then leave. Nothing else. I don’t want those Snowchester people come fighting with nukes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They got nukes?”

Scar sniggered. I kicked him.

Doc glared at my fellow Vex. “And bring Grian. He’ll be of use.”

“Grian? You sure?” I asked.

“Yes.” Doc grunted. “And you better get the job done. Go. Now.” He said.

I nodded, grabbed Scar’s wrist and dragged him out of the conference room, heading down to Grian’s “office”, while hearing Bdubs and Beef screech loudly along to the sounds of soda exploding. I allowed myself a slight smile.

“Dang it. Should’ve rigged ‘em better.” I said.

Scar gave me a look. “Don’t tell me you shook all of them.”

“I did. But I could’ve just fitted them with grenades instead.” I replied, taking a left turn down the hallway.

We found her studying a file about Tubbo.

“Hey.” She greeted us, not looking up.

“Hiya. You ready?” I asked.

Since Grian has her Watcher powers, she could technically see us coming, so I assumed she was already prepared.

“Let’s just go. Tango yelled at me earlier. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” She stood up, then walked towards us.

“Tango? Why?” Scar asked.

“None of your concern.” She shrugged.

We headed out the door, taking the lift down, then exiting the building. As soon as we stepped out, Grian winced.

“You okay?” I asked her.

“Y-yeah,” she replied. “It’s just…overwhelming.”

“Hmm.” I shot a glance at Scar. “Scar, you got the map? Coords, at least?”

“Ask the all-seeing.” He pointed at Grian. Grian made a low growling sound.

“Wow, I though you prepped.” She muttered under her breath.

“Yes, I have the map. It’s in my head.” She raised her voice.

“Great!” Scar smiled. “Let’s go, then.”

I leaned closer to Grian. “You okay, dude?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s…” she exhaled. “Alright.”

“Good.” I said, then secretly kicked Scar. The man glared at me but I didn’t reply.

“Let’s go.”

***

“We gonna take a subway. Then a cross-country train. Then another high-speed railroad.” I said, laying down a drawn map.

“Snowchester’s all the way out there, so we probably need to either stop to eat on the way, or we have to bring food.” I rolled up the map and shoved it in my pack.

Scar rolled his eyes. “You’re concerned about eating?”

“Grian needs to eat as well.” I hissed.

I had shoved the three of us into a Seven Eleven’s, where my reason was, “we need substance.”

Grian nudged Scar. “Here’s the thing, bud. We don’t have money. How-“

I waved a five dollar bill I snatched from someone. “Steal.”

“Did you get his whole wallet?” Scar asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

I gave a low chuckle. “Duh I did.” I held out the stolen wallet. Scar sniggered. “This guy’s got a hundred and fifty.”

Grian gave us a look of annoyance and frustration. “You know it’s illegal to steal, right?”

Scar materialised behind her, making her jump. “Nah. It’s fine.”

Grian narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t snap back a comment.

I handed Scar about thirty dollars worth of bills. “Grian, you can go with Scar to buy food.” She shot me a dirty look, got up and disappeared behind the aisles with the Vex.

I took out twenty and nabbed a sandwich and two bottles of water, in which to avoid getting yelled at by Grian, I payed for it instead of stealing it.

Though I will admit I stole a can of Sprite.

Yeah. Maybe.

Grian bought coffee and milk tea (where did she find that?) and Scar bought a bun and bottled Cola, though I could tell he didn’t intend to drink it, he’s just gonna prank me with it.

As we left that store, I searched for enough money to get us to the subway station. Six dollars to get in, then they needed eighteen. I decided not to give them the coins and bills yet, as Scar had a tendency to lose things.

Very, very often.

We headed to the subway station, while Grian kept cautiously looking around for signs of danger. However, despite this, Scar seemed extremely carefree.

“G, man, there’s nothing to worry ‘bout. It’s not like someone would just suddenly drop down and try and kill us, right?” He said to no one in particular.

“Don’t jinx it.” She huffed. “I see something. Though I can’t pinpoint where it is.”

I approached the subway tunnel, with the two nitwits trailing behind. “Yeah, something’s definitely wrong. I can feel it.”

I stepped down the stair, then halted when something whizzed past me and embedded itself into the wall with a thunk.

“Honestly, Foolish, how bad can your aim be!” I heard a yell. The three of us swivelled our heads towards the noise, and standing on the side of the street, armed with crossbows, were two deranged-looking people. At least that’s what the first word that came to my head when I saw them.

The one who shot the projectile, Foolish, looked suspiciously like a totem of undying, and it made me question whenever he’s an actual totem or not. His friend was a girl who wore dark sunglasses and had long streaks of hair running down both sides of her head. What she wore screamed pirate in every way.

Grian sighed. “Scar, you jinxed it.”

Scar glared at her. “No I didn’t!”

I slapped Scar before he could argue any further and hissed, “don’t make the situation worse, dumbass!” and marched towards the pair with crossbows. Scar gave me an offended look but I knew he was playing around for fun.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

Foolish looked at me. “You don’t have the authority to order me around.” He said.

“You just tried to kill me. Are you hitmen?” I snapped.

His friend glared at me. “You were trying to destroy our military.”

Grian and Scar came up from behind. “What do you know about that?” Grian challenged.

“I know for a fact that you were sent to destroy our nukes. We’re from Snowchester, mind you.” The girl growled.

Grian suddenly looked like he was lost in thought. Scar stared at her, then shook her to try snap her out of her trance, but did nothing except from earning a well-deserved smack in the face by her.

“Well, we don’t really care about who sent you. This is about our country’s safety. You back off, or we’ll make you.” Sunglasses Girl said, raising her crossbow.

I processed her words, then turned to Scar. “Wait, if we die, is our contract technically broken?”

He paused. “Wait…you know what? You’re right! We can just let ‘em kill us!”

“But do we like, reincarnate or something? What do you think we’d be-“

Sunglasses Girl facepalmed. “No-that’s not what I meant! I don’t want anyone dead!”

Foolish nudged her. “Whatever, Puffy. They’re not part of our nation.”

Grian shook her head. “You have your own problems. Deal with whoever the fuck Dream is first, then come back and kill us. Besides, Tubbo is a literal threat to society.” She said. “You shouldn’t be listening to that menace.”

Puffy, aka Sunglasses Girl, looked promptly taken aback by Grian’s comment. “How do you know about Dream?”

“Can we take this conversation somewhere else? We’re attracting quite a lot of unwanted attention.” Grian interrupted. “One dude who passed by thought you were a terrorist.”

Foolish and Puffy took a while to discuss, and as soon as they took their eyes off the us and Grian, I took out the stolen can of Sprite, shook it hard, opened it (but barely) then yeeted it at Foolish. It landed on the ground and the entire can burst like a grenade, spewing soda everywhere.

We bolted for it, making a beeline for the subway station, with Scar mainly being dragged all the way. By the time the pair from Snowchester realised what’s happening, we were already down the subway and had managed to get into the train already.

“Ok, that was…awkward.” Grian panted, slightly out of breath.

I grunted. “Whatever. You shouldn’t have told them about your powers.”

She shook her head. “I…sorry.” She muttered.

“Eh. We could go back and kill them both.” I shrugged.

Scar nodded. “Actually, yeah. I would love to do that.”

Grian paled. “No you don’t!” She cried. “Why must you always kill people left and right?”

Both of us Vexes turned their piercing gaze at her. She immediately shut up and sank into the seat.

“Can I kill Tubbo?” Scar asked.

“No,” Grian and I said almost simultaneously. I gave her a look but she said nothing.

“Aww.” He huffed. “I’m bored.”

“You won’t be when we reach the border.” Grian said.

“What?” I asked. “Are you talking about…the border between the city and Greater Dream SMP or whatever that place is called?”

She nodded. “You know we don’t have our IDs or passports. It’s gonna be a wild chase with the border guards there.”

“Ooo, what do they do?” Scat asked.

Grian groaned. “They would chase you down on horses and they never stop. Literally, they could hunt you continuously for days without stopping.”

“Sounds fun,” Scar said.

Grian bit her lip to prevent herself from snapping back at him.

I looked at her. “Listen, if you know about the border guards, do you think we can get past them?”

She nodded. “You can get past them, but it’s gonna be hard.”

I gave both of them a wide smile. “Alright. We have two hitmen on our trail, we don’t have IDs of any sort and we’re about to be chased down by a few border guards. What’s the worse that could happen?”

To be continued

(I did it on another platform and then tried to paste it on Tumblr but ended up with so much lag I can’t even type properly lol)

[nijigasakilove]

Sakamoto might be the first fat dude with aura? Love a good badass former hitman tries to leave the life only to be forced back in story. All the complaints from fans online had me thinking this was gonna be ass and it turned out great. Yea the animation ain’t JJK or Solo leveling, but it was solid. I like Shin and Sakamoto and the fight choreography was great too. Nice little introduction into this world, characters and the sort of thing we can expect. Even though Sakamoto wants to protect these mundane everyday vibes, I don’t think his past will let him.

For those that don’t know, the first two eps dropped together. Netflix shitty release schedule once again doing its best to kill the hype for a show. Second episode of Sakamoto days is available on Netflix JP with English subs, but you have to VPN it.

Definitely made sense dropping both of these together. They set up who I assume are two of the important supporting characters and let us see Sakamoto in action against some of the various players in this world. Seems like there’s a lot of assassins in this universe almost John Wick like lol.

Also got to see some of Sakamoto’s backstory with his wife. I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off at her throwing herself off the damn railing tho 😭 like yea I guess that’s one way to convince your bf to stop being an assassin.

Son Hee and Bacho talked all that shit about killing ol girl and then as soon as a real demon showed up they started begging for their lives lmaoo

Animation was noticeably weaker. Almost looks like it was in slow mo at times so I do understand some of the complaints from fans, but idk. I’m so used to watching your average run of the mill fantasy seasonal that it doesn’t faze me that much. I guess it boils down to Sakamoto’s manga being wayyy bigger than the average seasonal isekai LN adaptation, so it should have substantially better quality. I can respect the argument. But again, it’s solid for me.

[edgy-dragon-trash]

ASK GAME ROUND 3 let's goooo

Here are some for my faves, your Astor, Lev, and let's go with Mary too (they're all so creature I love them)

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

Hope you're having a good day :)

Yeahhhh babyyy lets goo💪 Thanks for the ask!

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Mary:

This one depends a little bit. Mary does not like showing most people that shes smart and capable. She goofs and messes around, dumbing herself down, because she thinks it’s funny when people underestimate her, as well as useful in some situations.

Sometimes that backfires because people she likes every now and then assume the same thing: that shes just dumb and a brute. And they have to be remided thats not the case.

Yiga!Lev:

I assume you’re asking for yiga Leviathan? Regular, canon Leviathan doesn’t have much going on for them besides a few facts that exist for shitpost reasons, actively rotting and sometimes representing me. So I’m picking for you because I can’t offer you much for regular Lev.

I’d say probably their frustration. I’ve talked before about them and how they are when they’re angry or frustrated. It’s ugly and it’s messy and does not align with the chill person they wanna present themselves as.

Astor:

Hmmm… Honestly by the time my Astor starts his villain arc, he really goes all out. I mean, if you can’t change fate, why not be your worst self?

Probably the fact that they’re a snake, a traitor. He can’t keep a single ally for too long, especially when they stop being useful or when they “judge” him for him methods. Hes a fake ass bitch.

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

Mary:

Everything💀

If I gotta pick something, I would say her habit of being touchy or sexulizing things. You either get used to it or you don’t because she is not changing herself too soon. That and she literally cannot help herself no matter how much she wants; she has a genuine problem.

She has no filter either and will say weird things of any type.

Yiga!Lev:

Does picking at their skin count? They’re gonna pick any imperfection, even if they bleed. It’s robotic. You’re gonna see it if you randomly look at them concentrating on something.

Astor:

His tangents. He randomly rambles on and on about certain topics. Especially after his God Given Parasite (third eye) starts messing with his mind more and more. His thoughts get less coherent if he doesn’t talk them out, even if it’s to himself.

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

Mary:

Hell is a constant danger. If you’re like Mary and somehow didn’t end up as a tortured soul and instead a demon, you will come across more demons. And they range from decently terrible to straight up vile. Not to mention angels randomly raiding the place…

Mary does have a set of morals, albeit a twisted ones. She will fight for her friends, sure.

But I’d say what got her in danger most of the time was Ale. Either because he was a hitman mean to kill her (god knows how many people in heaven want Mary dead) or because they got in some sort of trouble togheter.

Yiga!Lev:

Literally Astor. Any mission given by Astor is a death mission to some degree, even if he doesn’t necessarily intend it in Leviathan’s case. Thats what it means being a servant of Ganon.

What did get them in major danger is trying to save Astor at the battle of Hyrule Castle. I did mention they were broken up by then, but seeing the man in his last moments, Lev could not help herself; they may have broken up, sorta, but their feelings were still there. Unfortunately not only did they fail to save him, they too ended up dead…

Astor:

Ok my main AU for Astor is not the one with Lev in, so what got him in danger is the same thing in canon: The promise of the Calamity. The promise of greatness and power that Gan offered him. The thing he sacrificed his whole life chasing.

The thing that almost killed him. At least in this one he doesn’t die and gets a cool prosthetic arm. But nothing will fix the realization that he wasted his life for a traitor bigger than him. Perhaps death would have been more merciful than living with the thought.

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

Mary:

Shes a shapeshifter/fleshshifter. The creatures she can shift into are few and it’s easier to change into draconic forms rather than other animals. But she can shift her limbs and body to use body horror to her advantage. When it comes to scaring a human, shes gotten so good she can even shift in a way to expose her internal organs.

Yiga!Lev:

Likes sketching Astor when he sleeps or hes too concentrated on something to look.

Canon Lev because I do have something here:

It is actually a resurrected dragon corpse, brought back by a wizard. It was meant to be a familiar or apprentice but said wizard didn’t account for their size. And also Lev just wants to do their own thing.

Astor:

Big fan of experimenting on people. Be it with torture or the effects of malice, he considers it a special type of offering for the calamity.

[quirkwizard]

Hey QuirkWizard! I was wondering if you could do a quirk review for a quirk I just thought up! I wanted to make something more focused on making the user fade into the background. Spectator: an emitter type quirk which allows the user to activate a state in which they fade into the background. Anyone who sees user will just assume they are supposed to be there and see them as part of the background or as unimportant. As long as the user doesn’t go out of their way to stand out, like being in a persons face. (1/3)

The user is very hard to recognize or comprehend since to anyone viewing them as a targets brain just considers them as unimportant information being reduced to a mere vague memory. This isn’t invisibility and just more of makes people not focus on user. If user is just in a place where no one is supposed to be, then the quirk wouldn’t do much. But if user was being chased and then stopped after turning a corner, making the person lose track of user, and then the person wouldn’t notice user. (2/3)

Can you help me with the drawbacks and a better way to explain and describe what the quirk does since I do think I repeated myself a bunch and struggle to get my ideas across? Please help me in making the quirk work with reasonable drawbacks Maybe it is a little overpowered so I’m perfectly fine toning down the power level! Thank you for reviewing the quirk! TY! (3/3)

I can't really help with the writing, since everyone writes differently. But If you want some advice: you're main idea should boil down to a few sentences at most. You can expand it with examples and applications, but keep the core of it short and sweet. You don't need to reiterate it again and again.

So I think there is something in the idea. My biggest issue is the actual application. I think something that just makes everyone forget about the user is way too strong of an effect to just have. Like them turning the corner is a really good example of why it's so strong. This reads more like bad stealth in a video game. It allows for a massive margin for error and is easily exploitable because of how easy it is to go back to being hidden. I think this needs a reduction in power. Instead of having the user be practically invisible, just keep it to them being less noticeable. People are aware of them, they just sort of fade into the background. But the more they push it, the weaker the Quirk becomes, requiring some tact and planning on their part. They can't carry around a gun somewhere without everyone being suspicious. And the second that illusion breaks, it's really hard to get back. Less Skyrim-style stealth and more Hitman, if that makes any sense. And instead of fully forgetting about them, make it harder to remember details. Things like height, skin tone, and clothing could be easier to remember, but not things like eye color, hair color, or anything else like that are harder to recall. The weakness come from the limited usage and the work the user needs to be put in.

[4ce-of-2pades-inkwell]

I had the idea to combine my two current fixations into a Casino Cups + Wicked AU.

Elphaba and Nessa are daughters of the Devil in the most literal sense. (Ironic, considering how religious book Nessa is, and how book Elphaba wrestles with the idea of having faith and a soul.) Elphaba appears human, but is green, as one would expect. You initially assume she’s a plant hybrid, but then you see her fangs that no, she never lost, and her horns almost hidden among her dark hair, and her tail. That’s why people are afraid of her, that and her “father.” The Devil is very clear on the fact that she was more invented than born, and she assumes she is basically just another imp, albeit one that looks closer to human and is treated as an actual daughter. But still, despite the fact that she is loved, she receives far less warmth than she does expectation and responsibility. She is cold and calculating, sturdy and reliable, and serves the purposes asked of her.

Nessa, on the other hand, is the more doted on child, because she is not expected to take on responsibility, and perhaps subconsciously because she shows more of both her parents. Nessa is not a rose, as I had considered, but rather looks like any Devildice fanchild you might pull out of a hat at random, because she is. She’s a black die with golden dots, and a diamond-aligned head with three dots as her face, taking after her aunt. Her name should be some pun on dice, like Nessaroll. I can’t tell if that’s stupid or if it’ll grow on me. Maybe if I find a dice pun for “Nessa” too, or if there’s some general casino term with the word “rose” I could use instead. (Let’s say “Elphaba” means something in Enochian?) At any rate, it goes without saying that Nessa’s still a wheelchair user, but I sort of want to come up with some kind of unique cartoony or demon-ey type of accommodation for her to use instead, because it would be cool. (I’m picturing a backpack with wings or long tentacles or something to lift her off the ground.) Or perhaps I could borrow from the book and have her be armless instead? Anyway, she’s a hit singing at the Devil’s casino. Elphaba is a hit as a hitman perhaps, or maybe she’s learning to manage the finances.

Dice is getting older, and wants to retire soon, and Devil intends to retire right along with him. Ownership of the Casino is expected to pass to Elphaba for a good many decades, and possibly forever if Devil never decides to reclaim it, but when Elphaba does… I don’t know, some plot thing like in the musical… and goes AWOL, it falls to Nessa to take charge. And she takes to it remarkably naturally. Not a year of training, and she’s in charge, fully and completely, writing out soul deals of her own and ruling with an iron fist. If she does, in fact, have fists. I’m still trying to decide.

What it takes Elphaba time to discover, but I will lay out plainly for you for clarity’s sake, is that she’s not just some imp or demon that happened to get raised like a kid. She was created and designed specifically as Devil’s attempt at making an angel. He did have an interest in creating souls, didn’t he? What does an angel look like if it’s born fallen? What sort of manner of being is Elphaba, part of both worlds, belonging fully to neither? The Devil probably created this demonic angel with some kind of Big Scheme in mind, but at some point he realizes that he loves this thing like a kid, and is having a hard time balancing that with his need to use her like a weapon. Unlike Nessa, who he can certifiably call a child and nothing more or less, he doesn’t quite know what Elphaba is to him now, and that’s the source of his coldness and formality with her. If he’s gonna launch her at heaven like a nuclear weapon, he doesn’t want to get too attached.

Part of Elphaba’s estrangement is that she feels like a stepchild because she doesn’t have a connection to Dice. Nessa clearly shows both her parents. Elphaba shows only one, and that’s far offset by the green and her humanlike appearance. “Why did you invent me green though??” “Oh, it just matched your eyes. ;)” Dice has given her more than she realizes. One would never assume one of their fathers is blind because he literally gave his eyeballs to his firstborn. A demon needs demon eyes. Much of Elphaba’s being was formed from and around Dice’s demon eyes, with Devil’s magic (and some bit of holiness he had lying around somewhere). And the things that these demon eyes have seen give Elphaba a wisdom beyond her years through experiences she’ll never be able to consciously know. Also, she always knows when someone is lying. It is very difficult to hide anything from her. This is not an ability she manifests only at certain times, giving her visions of truths and desires, like with Dice, but a skill she uses continuously, one of purely mental intuition.

Glinda is an angel. Quite literally. I don’t have much to say about her story, because I don’t know much. Perhaps she senses someone of a similar nature and finds and befriends Elphaba. Perhaps they meet by chance. But this is the start of Elphaba having actual friends and a life outside the Casino. (Devil is uncertain about this, but Dice encourages him to let Elphaba have her fun. Weapon or no, she’s also a teenager, and Devil knows it.) Perhaps Gelphie becomes canon. I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t, but frankly I’m too aspec to care, as long as they have a good friendship. The pair’s eventual encountering of the Wizard is, instead, an encounter with some high-level angel, or even maybe God? Probably not God. Maybe Gabriel? Elphaba is powerful, but it’s a strange and unusual power, and Gabriel is intrigued by this unknown being with angel-like abilities that no one can remember giving her. Glinda is very proud of having talent-scouted her friend, and tags along hoping she will be rewarded as well, becoming more than just a minor angel that didn’t even make it into any literature by name. Elphaba is invited to join the heavenly host or something like that. She can become important. Gabriel can teach her and learn from her as well. Or hey, she’s kind of goth, so maybe she’ll want to be trained up as some kind of angel of death like Azrael. And of course Glinda jumps at Gabriel’s now open offer for guidance. They could do this together, Elphaba and Glinda, learning and training under two great angels, finding their purpose, becoming important, etc etc etc… Of course there’s some kind of confrontation wherein Elphaba discovers dark ulterior motives. Which, coming from God, doesn’t bode well. Probably something along the lines of that one thing Devil said about being an experiment and a puppet or something. I don’t know. But Elphaba wants nothing to do with this eerily pristine, fake perfect paradise. She turns away. But Glinda doesn’t intend to fall. Even knowing what she now knows… this is just who she is. So the two good friends officially take their sides on this most legendary struggle between “good” and “evil.” Elphaba now personally understands her father’s struggle, and she’s going to make a nuclear weapon towards heaven out of herself. But she intends to do it on her own terms. So she runs away to study and plan and prepare for… something.

Okay. Other characters.

Fiyero, I think, is some kind of dish or utensil. (I can’t think of a good pun off the top of my head… something with “fork”???) Paralleling him as a prince, this AU’s Fiyero is a descendant of the Calix Animi, but one who knows all the lore… …and acts like he doesn’t care much. It was a bajillion years ago, big deal! He plays it off because, if taken seriously, that’s a lot to live up to. On his own time though, he studies his ancestors with a passion. He was friends with Elphaba before she fell from a heaven she wasn’t part of in the first place, but after Elphaba cuts ties with everyone, she runs into Fiyero again by accident because they’re both researching. Perhaps they encounter each other in the Calix Animi ruins at like 2 AM? Elphaba sticks with Fiyero after this, at first because she tells him about her cause and he decides to turn traitor on his ancestors and help her by sharing his research and knowledge and stuff. But with time… I dunno, maybe they also fall in love? Like I said, I really don’t care.

Boq. Or rather, Bog. I do frequently make reference to the singular time in the book that Elphaba calls him a frog as an insult, but if that’s not enough to convince you, consider how close “Tibbett and Crope” are to “Ribby and Croaks.” Bog is their cousin, distant or close I don’t know. From the start of the AU’s plot, he works as a waiter at their clip joint, but he really wants to do… um, I dunno? Irrigation theory? In the book he studied agriculture, and in the musical all he did was study Galinda every time he could look at her. I do think that considering all the sentient plants on the Inkwell Isles—which I suppose we should be sure to capitalize here as “Plants,” another nod to the lore of the book—there would be a lot more range when it comes to what you might call “agriculture”, or any study of plants and animals. For all I know, we could be talking Plants and Animals instead, and he technically wants to be a doctor or an anthropologist or something. But I digress. He’s got some kind of professional aspirations, and he’s working a lot of shifts at his cousins’ place saving up for a good education. (Cousins plural, because Ribby and Croaks aren’t actually versions of Tibbett and Crope here, because if they were, they’d be a couple, not related, and since I wouldn’t be changing the names at all, that would get… confusing.)

At some point Bog makes friends with Nessa, which as we all know is always the biggest mistake of his life. I dunno if he makes Nessa think he likes her in this AU, because I also dunno if and how he falls in love with Glinda (who probably doesn’t ever have a name change unless I can think of a good reason). He probably does crush on the unattainable angel though, because if we’re playing by musical rules, then it’s an obligation, and it is also an obligation that Bog share some portion of the fault for his fate due to his own bad life choices. However, this fault can come with the signing of a contract. Nessa doesn’t need to be in love this time. What she needs is ruthless business sense. Why shouldn’t she use a friend/acquaintance as the first victim of her own personal soul deals? Much easier to convince that way. Maybe she tricks him. But I think he kind of has to sign his life away as willingly as possible, so our pity for his predicament can be mixed with a fair dose of “you idiot” as it always should be. I don’t know what she offers him that he’s willing to sign his soul away—probably something to do with making Glinda like him, because I don’t think he’s cares quite that much about agriculture—but Bog goes and loses his heart soul to Nessa. And she must like him at least a little, because his deal isn’t one for eternal torment. Instead, he is Nessa’s first “hired” employee at the Devil’s Casino (under new management). He will stay by her side, serving her, forever. And call me silly, but I don’t think this arrangement is going to end up quite like it did with Devil and Dice. (Though that’s the only love story Nessa’s especially familiar with, so perhaps it’s no wonder this was her plan all along to win Bog over. It worked once, right?)

Bog goes from one waiter uniform straight to a slightly different waiter uniform, this one with a little heart on it, and in any color he wants! Fun, right? Totally worth the, y’know, eternity, right? Bog wonders what exactly he got himself into, and desperately hopes he won’t come to regret it any more than he already does, because there is no escaping this.

I’m not sure how everybody would end up meeting and becoming friends. I know there was no big friend group in the musical, but I am tempted to once again borrow a little from the book, because the Charmed Circle gives me life. However, maybe it would make more sense for them to meet by chance, in twos and threes, and have a little web of interactions, and maybe encounter all of each other in the same space a few times, but never really become a group. As always, whichever best serves the mostly nonexistent plot.

I associate Elphaba with Clubs, Glinda with Diamonds, Bog with Hearts (duh), and Fiyero with Spades. (I have no idea what Nessa is, and I kind of don’t want to decide because there are only four suits and it would mess up the balance.) All of this is up for debate.

[msfbgraves]

I recall you saying that The Don hasn’t been entirely faithful to his wife. That’s odd, because aren’t most Alphas very loyal? Why did he stray? Terry himself tells Daniel that he couldn’t be with another omega because it feels like ashes in his mouth. 

Why does Michael hate being told he has pretty eyes? What do “they” say about beta boys with pretty eyes anyways? Does Michael feel sensitive about the comment since he maybe feel a tiny bit insecure that he’s not an Alpha or something, and “just” a beta?

Did Daniel go to Michael asking about the other omega and her baby or did Michael come to him? Does Terry know Daniel’s been asking?

“You'd have him shame you, then, fratellino? Again?” This line stung more than anything else, because it’s truly SHAMEFUL what Terry did omg. I’m never getting over the sheer horror and cruelty of it arghhhhh

Thanks for the fill. Daniel’s breaking my heart again baby boy 😭 I just want him to go home and have Terry make sweet sweet love to him or at least cuddle him extra in all honesty. 

When Antonio LaRusso was an immigrant establishing himself, I feel like they may have held his beta wife - and lack of pups, at least at first - against him. What kind of Alpha was he, one without balls? And even later.... he may have been offered a heat or two as an offer he shouldn't refuse, or indeed something he may have succumbed to, but he found the practice entirely distasteful and trained himself out of falling for a heat. He did try to use that trick on Terry, who also withstood it. So the Don been with omegas as a sort of occupational hazard, only taking the one or two heats, later having learnt to help other kitties through it without straying himself. He'd never tell and those enemies of his youth are dead. Lucille has seen the shame it brought him and forgave him. She's looked away more than once, was this worse than killing after all? The main point being not to do it again, and to certainly not disrespect her on purpose. And she could see he had learnt the next time someone tried it. But it was harder for both Terry and the Don than it was for Kreese, who might be demisexual if anybody ever looked into it. He feels that the Alpha/beta bond should be as strong as Alpha/omega and for him it is. But Alpha/omega hormones are a potent cocktail.

Similarly, I think that beta men in my omegaverse are quite heavily sexualised. Since there aren't enough omegas to go around for every Alpha, and there are very stunning Alpha women and men who are all young and horny, and having sex with a beta girl may get them pregnant in a way that our world takes for granted but their world is more than a little freaked out by - why not date a beta boy? No risk of pregnancy there! Of course only until they can get a 'real' mate. It's quite demeaning and it did sharpen Michael's sharp edges further. Try that with him and you'll be very swiftly dealt with. Daniel is not the only boy in the family who could cut a bitch.

The cheating is shameful indeed but Michael is making this about Daniel being demeaned by it and by extension, the family - and that is so horrible. Because even though the only one who should be shamed is Terry, Daniel too feels shamed by it, that just happens. And though he's wrong to put it on Daniel, Michael is right that some may see Terry being forgiven as a kind of LaRusso weakness. That's machos for ya.

I believe that Daniel indeed held his mate very, very tightly that night and absolutely refused to say why, which made Terry assume it was Michael because he always assumes it's Michael, but Jaysis that is a hard man to kill! I think they've both survived several orchestrated "accidents" by now. Terry would lose an open gang war with the LaRussos, so shooting Michael is out of the question, but he is wary of Italians and old mob and he is the liaison for new business so it's hard to trick him by hiring a newbie hitman. The old mob is loyal to the LaRussos, though, and Michael doesn't go anywhere a newbie could slip in unnoticed, so for now, they're at a stalemate and forced to tolerate each other at dinner.

[hetaliatrashlife]

Fear of the Unknown - (Aph!America x Reader)

Hey guys, a longfic here I decided to fix up from my drafts! - 3,500 Words (Will hopefully be a second part if wanted!)

WARNING - Foul Languages and depictions of Kidnap, proceed with caution! 

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Awaking to the feeling of warmth, knowing that where I laid my head the night before definitely wasn't a warm and comforting place, sitting up quickly on edge as you were on a serious under cover mission and couldn't risk dawdling around. Throwing the covers off of you feeling around what you assumed to be the motels bedside table for your glasses, putting them on quickly, you felt the arms of someone wrap around you and snuggle into your back. You stiffened up, throwing the assailant out of bed and onto the floor, pinning his arm behind his back and shouting, "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" with a grunt, he turned to face you, vision still blurry due to the dim light, "(Y/N)...it's me? " Your eyes widened, how was your target here in bed with you? A literal hitman you'd been chasing most of your career, was just underneath you, you picked him up and pinned him to the wall, his back hitting with a loud thud as he winced, his face covered in concern and confusion, "Don't play dumb Jones, why in the world are you in my room huh? You're coming with me! " He grabbed your wrists before you could even try to begin placing the cuffs on him, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I am a cop-", She looked at him and began laughing, "Is this another ruse? Another ploy huh? Impersonating a cop, what sick games are you up to now? " You ripped yourself from his grasp, disgusted by his touch. Alfred could do nothing but analyse the woman before him, she looked exactly like his partner (Y/N), but there was something about her...the usual vibrance in her eyes diminished to nothing but anger and hatred, Alfred knew it was directly pointed at him, his heart ached a little even amidst the confusion he disliked the thought of you hating him, "(Y/N)...I think you need to sit-", "STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT! You don't get to be sweet with me you prick." Her words oozed hatred, with each glare Alfred felt his heart pang, "Please, can I explain something to you! " Her gaze didn't soften, but her grip on him sure did, especially when she began analysing the room, it definitely wasn't the cheap run down motel she had been staying in the night previously, this was more homely and sweet, "Did you genuinely kidnap me Jones? Trying to live out some fantasy? " She crossed her arms, still standing infront of him still cornering him into the wall, Alfred had never seen this sort of look from his partner, let alone the woman he loved and he knew that she was serious, the thoughts of amnesia quickly dissapated out of his mind when he saw your clothes, a shaggy black hoody, black ripped tank top stained to high hell, black skin tight jeans and scuffed combat boots laced up to the knee. You looked exhausted, almost worn down but there was still that fire in you, a fire he knew all too well. Alfred lifted his hands up slowly, moving to turn the light on and as he did you blinked a few times, to accustom yourself to the brightness, "Look (Y/N)...I think you're (Y/N) anyway, I'm Alfred Jones yes, but I work for the NYPD and I'm far from a wanted man..." You scoffed at him, "I hate liars." You grabbed your gun and pointed it straight at him, he waved his hands infront of him as he rushed into the draw from the cabinet you'd just picked your glasses up off, he grabbed a badge and slowly handed it to you, "Please just look, it's all legit you can even call my superior..." You raised an eyebrow as you snatched the ID badge, still holding the gun with one hand pointed at him, "Do you mind putting that do-", "No. Until I can prove you're some sort of replica and not the actual Jones I'm looking for you'll deal with it, okay? " Her words weren't questioning in any sense, they were orders...commands and the emotion behind them made Alfred shut up real quick. As you inspected the ID, he drank you in, your nails were chipped...brittle almost, your hair unkempt in a messy poytail, Alfred wondered how he'd allowed her to just over power him like this but then again...she was YOU...she even answered to your name, he couldn't bring himself to harm you even if it wasn't the you he remembered.

Peering down at the ID, your eyes widening in shock as he must've been telling the truth, all the details were there...but you couldn't trust him, thinking it could be a fake ID badge you knew you had one last safety check, making your way over to the side table next to Alfred once more and picking up the phone, dialling with one hand the number to his super intendant, "Hello, is this Mr Kirkland? " A british tone made it's way through the speaker, "Hello, yes it is. What can I help you with? " Your eyes shot wide, this was your...boss? But he sounded sweet, almost soothing, not like the rough englishman you grew up with, "E-Ermm...", "(Y/N) is that you? What's bloody happened? " Thinking exactly the same you shook your head, eyes darting straight at Alfred, "I'm not (Y/N), I bumped into your colleague and I just wanted to make sure that a Mr Alfred Jones is employed with you? " Her heart raced, head spinning almost as she came to the realisation that this...this wasn't her reality, it couldn't be. Things were too bright, too nice it seemed. "Well yes, of course he is why would you ask? " It felt like your world had been shattered, you were in some dream it seemed, the same man who had brutally killed people all over the USA was employed by the NYPD? Your hardened gaze fell slightly, the fear apparant as you placed the phone on the reciever, "I-I...I don't know what to think..." Your world had shattered in seconds, pinching yourself to make sure this was real and not some deluded nightmare your brain had convuluted from forgotten past memories. You walked up to the man still stood by the wall, your hand reached up to his face and gently rubbed his cheek, he seemed to invite the warmth of your touch but before he could reminisce you pulled back, "I...I don't know what sort of fucked up place I'm in, but me and you we're enemies...I've been hunting you down since I was eighteen, it's been eight years of constant under cover work and still never being able to stop you...you killed so many people...the piece of you I had from childhood died when I took my first case..." Alfreds eyes widened in horror, disgust even and he couldn't fathom ever being a cold hearted killer, let alone one that does it purely for money. You threw yourself down on the bed, defeated and more than a little torn. Alfred sat next to you, making you jump slightly he waved his hands infront of him once more, "Hey, I know the Alfred you deal with is like that but I seem to be the complete opposite...I understand you might be a little scared of me, but I want to help you find where you belong and I'd also like to find my (Y/N)-" He heard you laugh sorrowfully, "Your (Y/N) huh?...It's hard to imagine myself ever getting with you, no offence..." He smiled slightly, "None taken dude, now let's get changed and sort some kind of game plan out yeah? " You still couldn't believe this was Alfred, I mean you could because it reminded you of the piece of Alfred you hid deep down and kept under lock and key, the sweet caring boy he was before whatever happened snapped him into the evil monster he was now. But looking this Alfred up and down made your chest heave, "This is what I could of had huh? " You whispered to yourself, your eyeline boring into the carpet beneath you with so much intense sadness Alfred couldn't contain his emotions as he wrapped you in a hug, his hands gripping you so tightly as if he was scared you’d slip through them, your body once more stiffened up against his touch as it was so alien to you, "S-Sorry, it's just you look almost identical to my (Y/N) and I would always comfort her...if you don't like it, I can get off? " You felt tears prick at your eyes, they fell in heaps landing on clenched hands beneath you, succumbing to the comforting warmth of his touch, almost envious that another version of you got to enjoy each and every moment with him. Your eyes soon made their way to Alfred, noticing the man was..."E-Ermm...I am so sorry, but would you mind getting some clothes on?..." Your face heated up within seconds, the mans chiselled body so close to you, with each scar telling a story that you could only begin to imagine. "O-Oh I'm so sorry, of course!" He quickly parted from you, his touch lingering on your skin making it yearn for more. Seeing Alfred be this kind to you sent you into a whirlwhind, after spending most of your career chasing after the same man stood before you...but this wasn't him was it, it was the better version...the version you desperately begged for all these years, you couldn't help but satiate this fantasy for just a little while longer. You watched as he grabbed a couple of things from a dresser then throwing them at you, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him, "You look like you need a change of clothes and i'm more than sure you'll both be the same size..." You nodded quietly, unable to meet his gaze whilst he was still practically naked, "Thank you...", "You can call me something like a nickname if it's more comfortable for you? How about Alfie?" Eyes widening at the nickname, "I-I can't...Jones seems just fine for now..." He scratched the back of his neck, guessing that you had nicknamed your Alfred that too before he went all psycho killer, "Well I'll leave you to get dressed, meet me downstairs in the kitchen and I'll cook us up some breakfast." You nodded again, thoughts still whirring around in your head, 'What's happening?' 'When will I wake up?' You heard the door softly close and lock into place, as soon as it did you finally allowed yourself to breathe a deep sigh, painful almost gasping for air. You couldn't fathom that this is what your life could've been, you peered around the beautifully decorated room stroking your hands across the plush bedding beneath you, knowing that you hadn't felt linen this smooth in a long time. Your eyes stopped on a framed picture on the bedside table, shakily moving your hand towards it knowing just what would be peering back at you...there it was, you and Alfred on a date in a different country, holding eachother close and smiling like the world didn't matter. You watched as drops hit the glass, wiping them away as you stroked Alfred's face, you took a double take at the smiling woman looking back at you, this (Y/N) had shorter well kept hair, she wore brighter clothes and her nails looked so perfectly primed. You stared at yourself in the reflection, not understanding how you drew such a short straw, "She got it all huh? " You chuckled grimly to yourself, placing the picture back on the bedside once more, standing up to assess the clothing you'd been given, a white off the shoulder top with a pair of blue high waisted jeans, "Damn, she really is different..." You hurriedly got dressed, grabbing a pair of socks and your boots as you made your way into the hallway.

Eyes immediately drawn to the hundreds of photo's littered around the place, your heart ached at the smiling face looking back at you...no she was looking down on you, 'You never deserved this...' Your thoughts seeping in again, you shook your head slightly and gave the bridge of your nose a pinch, "I look...so happy..." Your words thickened the air, the envy almost sickening to you...what you would do for this sort of life, one that seemed ever so perfect and happy. Making your way down the smooth carpeted stairs, you turned a corner to be met with another hallway, a certain picture stood out amongst the rest making your stomach churn and bile shoot into your throat, "That's...-", "Oh yeah, that's when we-...I mean me and my (Y/N) went on a camping trip in highschool, she always kept that picture even though I hated it...but now I can't help but look back and see our beginning you know?..." He quickly stopped himself as he saw your body language, you looked defeated and broken, all's the blonde wanted to do was wrap you up in a blanket and protect you, you may not of been his realities (Y/N) but you were still a (Y/N) and he couldn't understand what went so horribly wrong with himself that he left you like this, a shell of a woman who used to be so vibrant so hopeful, your eyes looked bleakly as you grabbed a wallet out of your pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper to reveal the same photo Alfred described to you, "You mean this one?...Yeah I do treasure it, more than he'll ever know..." The picture was stained and slightly torn at the edges, showing just how much use you got out of it, "I...I'm so sorry..." He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, he expected you to flinch away or push him off but you just kind of accepted the gesture, it had been a long while since you'd felt the touch of someone, the feeling of human contact was so rare to you especially with the whole undercover thing, you couldn't make friends and whatever family you did have thought you were probably dead. Your hand reached up slowly and cupped his, squeezing it almost like a lifeline, just wanting to know someone cared about you. "She's very lucky to have you...." Your smile didn't portray happiness, bitter jealousy if anything but the only thing Alfred saw was pain, you turned yourself towards the kitchen doorway as not to see the cherished memory you had once lived through. Alfred's hand pulled back slowly as if he wanted you to know he cared, that he was there for you. "I was lucky...I am lucky...you saved me-" He heard you chuckle dryly, making your way to the pristine modern kitchen you placed yourself at the breakfast bar, "If only you knew what happened in my reality huh? You wouldn't think so highly of me..."

Other Reality (Y/N):

You awoke, the stench of vomit and sweat instantly filling your nostrils like a pungent wake up call, "W-Where am I? " You muttered out, grabbing your glasses and swiftly placing them on your nose, you searched your surroundings. "A Motel? Why an earth would I be here? I must've been kidnapped..." You used your detective skills to assess the room, make sure if it was a kidnapper he wasn't still in the room or on the premises, then the fear set in, "Alfred...he wouldn't of ever let this happen so what if they've got him?!" You couldn't calm your beating heart, everything felt dark and gloomy especially without his bright smile to awaken you, his laughter was always your favourite melody. "No, he's fine. I have to be hopeful, I know he's got this and that whatever's going on he'll save me! " Making your way to the bedside cabinet you spotted some things, a mobile phone and keys, you thought this was your bingo until you saw the password protection, "Shit, they don't even have a background..." Then a text flashed on the screen from a private number, "You're getting colder little mouse, I'm waiting." The tone of the text was sinister, repulsive even. It was like they were hunting you down like prey, a wild animal and this was their hunting ground. You made sure to search the room for supplies, knowing that anything could be left in this godforsaken hell hole. Finding a duffel bag, you ripped it open and saw, "Ammo?...Guns?...Freaks got a whole travel bag, but...if they're leaving it for me are they expecting me to play? I-" You sat yourself on the side of the bed, backtracking everything that happened the night before, falling asleep in Alfred's arms to the feeling of him playing with your hair was the last you remember and then this...you couldn't wrap your head around it, but you knew you had to get out and find your way back to him. Another buzzing sound came from the locked phone, the text reading, "428 Hampton Boulevard. 30MINS." Having no choice but to grab the duffel bag and meet this maniac at his desired location, you knew that with them you'd more than likely find your answer's to the other questions that have been plaguing you. Your eyes fell onto a pile of clothes, grabbing them without hesitation you saw, "Women's?...They're my sizing, they must really have it out for me...to know this-" You shivered thinking of all the times you'd haphazardly left your clothing in places it could be easily picked up and from the looks of it this person knew a lot about you. Throwing the clothes on as quickly as you could you grabbed the duffel bag, throwing it over your shoulder seamlessly, grabbing the keys on the side knowing that if you got pulled over you could always call in to your boss, "I'm sure Artie won't mind covering for me if theres a psycho after me..." Making sure to take the burner phone with you, in case things got too much for you and you had to call the emergency number, Alfred would be so proud of you for facing such a feat head on but you also know he'd be angry for endangering yourself if you have him, you thought to call him but the motel didn't have a phone and the mobile you had wouldn't make calls unless unlocked. You speed walk past the receptionist who gave you a weird look, 'Yeah I'm sure seeing a kidnap victim would make my head turn too love...'

You grabbed the car keys in your hand placing the key between your fingers just in case this creep decided he would rather meet you here, you surveyed the area and didn't spot anything too out of the ordinary. You examined the keys to try and identify what car they'd be used for, they looked eerily similiar and seemed to belong to a car you owned back when you were a teenager so you recognised the car almost immediately..."Red Honda...95 plate..." Eyes widening in shock, this couldn't be right? It looked exactly like your old car down to the busted tail from where you got rear ended by Alfred after he'd just learnt to drive, shaking the thoughts out of your head you pressed onwards not being someone to stray away from a fight especially when it meant you getting closer to being home again, safe in Alfred's arms. Starting the car up was easy, remembering how to drive manual was not though, the brain fog was over bearing from being in fight mode and you honestly couldn't think straight but for some reason as soon as you'd clicked in that belt and revved the car to life, it's like you were teleported to being that sweet naive eighteen year old again, not a care in the world. Staring at the clock you knew you had fifteen minutes left to get to your destination, but fortunately you were perfect with directions and from patrolling that area in downtown new york so often you knew exactly where you were headed. Not bothering to check the car out, knowing that being superstitious would get you nowhere but trouble you headed for the place. The tires screeched beneath you, the car coming to a halting standstill the phone barely alive but just enough in case you needed to dial in an emergency.

Scanning the area for this unknown assailant you couldn't see a thing, it may have only been 7am but it was downtown on a Sunday no one was going to be up and around just yet, atleast not the people you'd want to bump into anyways. You felt something- no someone staring holes into you, your eyes widened spotting a hooded figure in the alleyway, grabbing a gun cautiously you made your way towards the spot, "Hello?..." Quietly you made your way towards the person, gun pressed firmly behind your back finger on the trigger waiting for the perfect moment. This was presumeably a man by the build and height, you heard a chuckle but the feeling of fear was now overcome with that of confusion, you began shaking as you'd only ever heard one person with that specific laugh, "Alfred?..." Before you had time to react or to question the person before you, you felt a rag slam into your face the sweet stench of chlorophorm filling your every sense, your gun shooting as you pulled the trigger almost on instinct, pain searing up your leg knowing full well you'd just shot yourself, your eyes began to glaze over in realisation, this was Alfred...but it couldn't be? Struggling with the man as he kicked your newly bleeding leg, dropping the gun shaking you used the last of your strength to throw your hands up and around his face, knocking his hood down to show his face...you froze with fright shaking uncontrollably now, this was Alfred...but he didn't look the same? He was glaring daggers at you, grinning from ear to ear, a large scar adorning his once fresh face, the beautiful cerulean eyes that gave you peace of mind now dim with zero emotion, he pulled you against him tightly almost suffocating you, "I've got you my little mouse..." He almost purred into your ear, your eyes welling up with tears as darkness overcame you. Awaking what felt like moments later, your eyes shot open darting across the scenery before you, your arms writhing beneath the sturdy ropes that pinned you into what seemed to be a chair of some sorts, your eyes landed on the man sat infront of you still grinning like a cheshire cat, "Naughty girl, I didn't think you'd come running...you never usually do but then again you don't look how you usually do..." He stood up, distain spread across his face as he ripped your mouth piece off with little to any thought, "Who...who the fuck are you?!" He leaned in close, the smell of booze permeating his breath as he spoke, "Why...I could ask the same of you? "

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Thank you for getting this far, I posted this as it’s the first thing I’ve written in a long time that I’m actually proud to post, I’ll be sure to add part 2 as it’s already written if people want it! 

I hope you have a wonderful Evening // Morning! ;3;

[seijorhi]

Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly. 

Publicly. 

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon. 

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer. 

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world. 

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety. 

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee. 

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?” 

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte. 

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing. 

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist. 

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him. 

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside. 

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it. 

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking. 

Well, nobody until him, he supposes. 

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did. 

[muwi-translates]

Bustafellows - Bad End Short Story [Shu]

Short story that continues the bad end of Shu’s route, from a Stellaworth Tokuten.

Shu Bad End spoilers. I haven’t done this in a while, please point out any mistakes if you see any!

**Please don’t move this translation or claim it as your own.**

[The ‘Day’]It's been a while since then. Enough time to calm down, but still not enough time to sort anything out. We still had no idea where Shu or Teuta were. It would be easy to say that they weren’t the type of people who would die easily, but the reality was that it wasn’t. Mozu’s been tracking data from the New Sieg Coroner’s Office, so he rarely has time to come home. 

While searching for Shu and Teuta, we found information about the Closer through the underground network. It seems they’d been found dead in a dump on the outskirts of New Sieg, in horrible condition. His body was riddled with bullets, 20 of them, but all had apparently missed the vitals. They say he was tortured.  

'The one who killed the Closer… was Shu, wasn’t it?'

'I don’t want to think so, but it sounds like that’s the case.'

Never leave a chance for revenge. That was what Shu always said. That was what his teacher taught him. If Shu tortured and killed the Closer, then the reason must be because of Teuta.

Teuta, who’s still missing to this day…

There’s only one possible reason for him to kill the Closer, our only lead to finding her.

'Limbo.'

Crow, who’d been looking at the screen the whole time, stopped and looked back.

'Hm? What is it?'

'Um… I was just thinking… I didn’t want to say it because saying it makes it sound like it really happened and I don’t like that at all, but… you were just thinking what I was thinking of, right?' 

'...'

I knew what Crow was trying to say.

'If Shu killed the Closer, then Teuta’s already…'

'Yeah… that’s what I thought.'

I didn’t want Crow to finish that sentence, so I cut him off.

'I... I… um…'

Crow’s voice was trembling. He had probably been thinking that for a while now. Not just Crow, but Helvetica and Mozu too. We’ve been looking for Teuta, but it only because we just couldn’t stop.

'Sorry, I... I’m going to say something I don’t want to say. I don’t want to… but I will. I was looking for her… for Teuta. Anything from bodies of women around her age, her clothes, or fragments like that… but I can’t find anything. Right now I’m looking into this.’

'Mexico?'

‘I heard about it when I was collecting different information. I heard that missing bodies can be shipped to Mexico. In… in containers, or drums…”

Crow bit his lip as he spoke. He was facing the reality that I was turning my eyes away from. It must have been hard for him to find out about this, as someone who was more compassionate than others. 

'Thank you, Crow. ...Yeah, if you find out anything more…'

I couldn’t carry my words to the end, but Crow silently nodded.

'Yeah… um… there’s one more thing.'

'What is it?'

'I don’t want to admit it… but Teuta’s already… dead, isn’t she? If we assume that Shu tortured and killed the Closer… do you think... he’s okay?'

'I don’t think he’d be okay.'

'That’s… probably true. I… I’ve been looking for him too. Shu, I mean.'

There was a heavy sigh. Teuta’s presence had grown enough on us. To Shu, she was even more than that, and that was something you could see when you lived with him. We knew that as a hitman, Shu tries to be 'insensitive' about the life and death of people, when in fact, he’s anything but. 

'Limbo? Are you going out?'

'Yeah, I’m gonna stop by the office for a bit. I’ll drop by the Coroner’s Office to see how Mozu’s doing too.' 

ーーー

'... Limbo Fitzgerald.'

As I walked through the dusty alleyway, I heard a familiar voice from behind. 

'What a nostalgic voice. Is that what you’re thinking?'

When I turned around, I saw Shu standing there. He didn’t look any different, but he seemed almost haggard. It was his eyes that had changed the most. There was no emotion in them at all. Like the eyes of a beast. 

'It was like this when we first met, wasn’t it? You pointing a gun at me.'

If I had to be honest, the Shu in front of me was unnerving. But somehow I managed to force a normal smile.

'...'

At my words, Shu didn’t even raise an eyebrow. I could see his finger resting on the trigger of the gun trained on me. 

'...Were you the one who killed the Closer?'

'Yeah.’

'Why’d you kill him? He was our only lead.'

'I already followed it.’

'Huh?’

Shu laughed. There was a madness there that I had never seen before.

'The Closer spat out where she was just as he was about to die. Teuta’s dead. I confirmed it that day. I carried her out myself, even with the smell.'

'W-Wait a second, what do you…'

'The Closer did it. He beat her, cut off her head, and threw her out like she was trash. Disposed of without her identity.'

'No...'

'Don’t act like it’s the first time you’re hearing this, Limbo. You already knew Teuta was dead, didn’t you?'

'That’s…’

'I couldn’t really get it what I was seeing when I saw her. You know, I thought she wasn’t ever going to die. Isn’t that stupid? Even though her body was right in front of me, even though that decaying smell was horrible, I still couldn’t believe it. It still felt like she would wake up if I kept calling out for her. So that’s all I did.'

'Shu, you…’

Shu chuckled. His voice was so cold that it made me shiver.

'I've been thinking about what I last said to her. Weren’t you the one who said it back then? To give her a call or text her? I wish I’d done that. I’d told her, “If I get you involved, I’ll save you by any means necessary.” Isn’t that funny? She thanked me for saying that. It was a promise I couldn’t keep, and that’s gonna be the last.'

Shu fixes his grip on his gun.

'Shu, what are you doing?'

'Work, Limbo Fitzgerald.'

'...You’re going to kill me?'

'That’s the commission. You’ll make good money.'

I could feel my heart thumping. His murderous intent was palpable. At this rate, he’s really going to kill me. My entire body screamed at me to get away. I slowly inched my foot back a step, but Shu didn’t miss my movement.

'People will die in unexpected ways. They'll disappear suddenly from the world. No one gets to pick the day they die.'

'Shu, stop it. Are you seriously going to kill me?'

'It’s simple, Limbo. You only die once, and today’s the day.'

[isabellitah]

Title : Our Wife

Pairing : Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female!Reader x Miya Atsumu

Warning : blood ig, curse words, attempted rape, torture, and mentions of death

Credits : to the artists regarding the drawings of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu found on the banner- i saved them from pinterest I think.

Note : do not copy or repost this anywhere else. I do not write Haikyuu!! fics anywhere else.

Y/n Miya-Sakusa was scared. No- scratch that- you were terrified.

You wouldn’t show it to your captors though- your husbands taught you to never show fear- but Jesus Christ- you were terrified not only for yourself but more so for your unborn child- a child you didn’t even know existed until half an hour before you got kidnapped from your own room. For the past hour that you’ve been tied to a chair in the middle of the room, they haven’t touched your body. The same couldn’t be said for your face. Half of your face was covered in slightly dried blood; blood that came a wound you got when they slammed your head against the edge of your beside drawer to knock you unconscious, and a spilt lip that was still bleeding slightly from when they punched you when you spat at the face of the person who demanded your husbands’ locations and the locations of all your warehouses. The thought alone made you scoff- you’re no rat. Unlike whoever the hell gave your home’s location away. Your husbands were going to be so pissed when they find you gone and your shared room thrashed about.

Sitting on the wooden chair was become a pain in the ass. Literally. You couldn’t even escape because of the metal cuffs attached to your wrists, forearms, and ankles and they took your daggers away. You’re stuck and all you can do it wait. Wait for either your husbands to burst through the door or wait for your promised torture session and possible death.

Minutes- hours- who knows how long later, two men in black barged into the room, startling you from your daydream carrying knives with guns in their holsters. Well... looks like your Omi and Tsumu are too late huh...

“Ready, Princess?” thing 1 with an eyepatch said with a smile, showing his yellow teeth, “Boss said we gots to kill ye before yer husbands get here. Ye know, so they barge in ‘ere only to see yer bleeding body. Even better if they get to see yer naked corpse, doncha think?”

“Boss said not to rape her tho-” thing 1 interrupted thing 2, “what boss doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im. And besides- I wanna leave Miya a surprise for stabbing my eye.”

And just as thing 1 started moving towards you, a scream was heard from outside the door and echoed into the room, sending shivers down things 1 and 2’s spines. You, on the hand, smiled. They’re here... fucking finally.

“What was that?” Thing 2 looked around nervously. Huh- he must be new to the business. Poor guy he won’t make it far at this point. Thing 1 shrugged, “eh who cares? There’s no one we can’t kill.” he boasted. Dumb overconfident pig.

Another scream rang through followed by a shout of terror, “THEY’RE HERE!” that was cut off as a loud gunshot echoed through the walls followed by a series of bangs and clangs. The familiar sound brought you off guard- they brought everyone? You were sure that that clang was from Michinari’s favorite weapon- his metal bat. Where were you and who took you that they felt it necessary to have everyone here? You were brought out of your train of thoughts when you realized that all of a sudden everything and everyone was silent. All you can hear was your own heartbeat.

“Ah fuck it-” thing 1 looked at your form with a crazed look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

“Dude what are you-”

“Well it’s obvious we won’t make it out alive-”

“Wait what?”

“-might as well have fun before we die, ey?”

With that said he closed the gap between you two. You felt your mind blank as tears started forming in your eyes. The moment he ripped Atsumu’s shirt from your person, the tears fell along with the loudest scream you could muster, “OMI! ATS-” you were cut off as thing 1 smacked your cheek with the butt of his gun, “shut up ye lil bitch. Yer not leavin til I get my f-”

Thing 2 was suddenly down- a hole on the side of his head. None of you even heard the door open so that meant Shinsuke was here- well him or Rintarou since they’re the stealthiest in your family.

Thing 1 suddenly stood up straight and placed his hands up with his palms up and blocking your view from whoever was with you two in the room, “hey uhhh I was forced to do this, mates- it- it wasn’t anything personal, yea?” Sat on a wooden chair in just your undergarments and the remnants of one of your husbands’ shirt, you let a small smile appear on your face. They’re here. You and your little bean are safe now.

Rintarou stepped out of the shadows and from his voice you could tell he looked bored, “so... where is she?”

Thing 1 shook his head, having lost his voice the moment his eyes met the bored yet malicious ones of one Suna Rintarou- one of the deadliest assassins of the Inarizaki family, and prayed that the fox wouldn’t notice your bleeding form behind him.

The moment you let out a sob, he pushed thing 1 away and squatted in front of you. And he was not happy with what he saw was done to you-

He saw your bloody and bruised face. He saw your shaking hands and the tears you let flow from your eyes. But what angered him the most was the fact that someone he viewed as his little sister lost the brightness is her eyes.

Any chance the idiot had with reasoning with him was gone.

“Congratulations, idiot. You’ve secured a spot in our personal dungeon.” Rintarou smiled as he heard a sharp thump before the telltale sound of a body hitting the ground, “you didn’t hit him too hard, did you, Shinsuke-san?”

“Not hard enough.”

“Ok- let’s get these off of you before your hubbies come in here,” with that said both men started unlocking the cuffs trapping you onto the chair. After freeing you, you were immediately hit with the feeling of fatigue and let your body fall onto the person closest to you. Shinsuke caught your semi-limp body and immediately became worried but calmed down as he felt your breaths. He arranged your position so that you were laying across his lap, facing the roof of the cell. Rintarou settled himself beside Shinsuke after texting Kiyoomi your location- receiving an immediate reply that they’ll be there as soon as Atsumu is out of his blood haze. Shinsuke brushed his hand through your hair but immediately stopped when you whimpered, “hit- t-table- home.”

The two men exchanged worried glances when you stared up at them with your eyelids slowly closing. Rintarou tapped your cheek, “Y/n-chan, stay awake- how do you feel right now?”

“Aish of all the questions Rin-”

“B-baby...”

“Kiyoomi-san and Tsumu will be he-”

“M-my baby...” their eyes widened as you shakily placed your hand onto your tummy before falling limp in Shinsuke’s arms. He refrained from panicking when he saw your chest still rising and falling in patterns- you probably fainted from exhaustion.

“Holy shi-”

“Y/N!”

The moment the two saw your limp body they assumed the worst- but as Atsumu was about to yell out his rage and sorrow, Osamu appeared from the shadows and hit the back of his head, “she’s breathing, you moron.”

“I knew that, shitface.”

“Who ya callin’ shitface, ya pig?”

“Who ya callin’ a pi-”

“Aran,” Kiyoomi calmly spoke as he turned to face the hitman- ignoring his husband and brother-in-law, “lead the way out- make sure that there will be no delays. We must take Y/n to Motoya immediately- we don’t know the extent of her wounds- however they look... less than favorable as of the moment.”

At the reminder of your current condition, the twins shutted up, “Osamu,”

“Yeah, Omi-san?”

“Bring that thing with us.” was muttered with great disdain while his finger was pointed towards the unconscious thing 1.

And so they left the building covered in blood with neutral faces.

They may not show it but they were livid.

They didn’t miss your tear and blood stained face nor the the fact that your shirt was ripped right down the middle.

They knew what was going to happen to you had they been a second late.

“Hitoshi and Heisuke are already tracking the rats- we’ll have them in the basement by tonight,” informed Kiyoomi’s trustworthy gunsmith, Tsukasa Iizuna.

“They better- only question now is who gets first dibs on the assholes.”

As they settled into the car, Shinsuke told them the news of your latest surprise. He knew that they’d go even more ballistic were they to find out during the check-up from Motoya. But since they were in a closed and moving car with you on their laps, they couldn’t really do much except stiffen and let their rage grow stronger- and he looks forward to seeing what they’ll do to the bastards tonight. Shinsuke, above all things, is a man of honor- and what he hates above all things, are traitors.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! PLEA- AHHH” Thing 1 screamed as Kiyoomi dug his dagger deeper into the man’s shoulder- forming a hollow hole of sort.

“Just a little more... I want to see if your bones are clean or if they need to cleansed as well-”

“Omi-omi~ I want my turn !” whined Atsumu as he crossed his arms and pouted at his husband.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “you had your turn five minutes ago when you spilled acid onto his legs- it’s my turn now.” with that said, Kiyoomi ripped his dagger from the man’s flesh without a warning and grabbing a bowl from the prisoner’s ‘meal’, poured the bowl of scalding hot soup into the hollow flesh.

And as the man wailed, the two traitors squirmed in fear as they awaited their turns.

“We don’t usually go to this extent but what can we say...”

“No one messes with our wife.”

please reblog if you liked it hehe 🥺🥰

[uhlikzsuzsanna]

Richard E. Grant Reveals Whether Classic Loki Is Gone for Good: 'How Do You Top That?' (Exclusive)

[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Loki Season 1, Episode 5, “Journey Into Mystery.”]

Richard E. Grant seems the ideal candidate to be conscripted into Marvel's cinematic universe: He's an Oscar nominee (Can You Ever Forgive Me?) who doesn't take himself too seriously (he's been in two Hitman's Bodyguard movies) and he's already on the Disney payroll (having joined the Star Wars franchise for The Rise of Skywalker). Yet, the actor says he and Marvel had never discussed his entrée into the MCU until Loki.

"I'd been in Logan, but that's completely separate," he told me over Zoom. "I'd joked on and off down the years with Tom Hiddleston, because of some vague similarity in the way that we look -- me, a much older version of course -- about working together as father and son in something. I assumed because I was asked to play Old Loki, I thought, 'Oh, this is the call finally,' because of the physical similarity. So, that's as much as I knew."

Grant made his Loki debut in the post-credits scene of episode 4 as "Classic" Loki, a Variant of our Hiddleston's God of Mischief who dons Loki's comics-accurate green and gold getup and ultimately goes out in a blaze of magical glory in the penultimate episode. Ahead of the Loki finale, Grant chatted with ET about answering Marvel's call, his one major complaint with his costume and whether Classic Loki is gone for good.

ET: Beyond you looking Hiddleston-y or him looking Richard E. Grant-y, what was it about this character in this story that you knew, "Yes, this is my part in the MCU"?

Richard E. Grant: Well, the key is in Old Loki, because being 64, I was older than anybody on the entire crew or cast. So, that was the clue in, I thought, "Old Loki, that's it -- I'm in the old age roles now."

What else were you told about him in that initial pitch? And was the costume part of it? Because it seems so much part of the character.

Yeah. And when the costume designer showed me my face on this costume that she designed and I saw the Jack Kirby drawings from the '60s, I thought, "Oh, great! As I have no muscles" -- as you can see -- "I'm finally going to be in a muscle suit. I'm going to have muscles like Tom has got!" And of course, I got there and I said, "Well, where's the muscle suit?" They said, "You don't have a muscle suit. This is what you're wearing." I said, "But this is like Kermit the Frog. There's no muscles. There's nothing here! How can I fight in Asgard?" [Laughs] "No, no, it's your magic that counts!" And I said, "Help me. Just give me the muscle suit," but they refused. So, I'm still sore headed that I was never given a muscle suit to fight Asgard as in all the drawings. I still don't really why they didn't do that, but maybe they wanted withered Loki. Who knows?

So, what was your reaction the first time you got all the garb on and saw yourself in the mirror?

Horrified, because I had no muscles! I was standing there like sort of a geek with these Y-fronts. I remember when I was a kid in the back of all the comics, they used to have these little drawing adverts with a skinny kid having sand kicked in his face. And they used to have these chest expanders, they said, "Send off for one of these chest expanders and you too could look like Thor!" Well, I never did, and I thought, well, finally, when I'm cast as Old Loki, this is going to be my chance. And damn, they took it away from me in that too. So I'm pissed at them for that.

How did Hiddleston react when he first saw you in it?

He said, "You have no idea what kind of response this is going to elicit when it comes out." I said, "That doesn't sound too positive or hopeful to me without the muscles, Tom." And he said, "No, no, believe me, I've been playing this part and there's a universe of people who are so obsessed and so ready to see Classic Loki. Be prepared for it." I didn't really take him seriously. I thought, "Well it's a TV series. How many people will watch this on a new channel?" Yada, yada. And how right he was looking into the crystal ball and how wrong I was, because since it came out last Wednesday, I have been absolutely flabbergasted by the response. My Twitter feed and Instagram have increased in vast numbers, and the response has been pretty astonishing. I'm amazed and grateful that it hasn't been negative so far.

I loved your post, by the way, about how your father would have reacted to this costume.

Well, he was right! I'm still at 64 earning my crust by wearing makeup and green tights. [Laughs]

I have to assume this was also your first time with an alligator as your scene partner?

It was. And in reality it was three stuffed cushions sewn together. Sort of fun to hold!

Alligator Loki is such a breakout star and I loved seeing the blue plushy you used on set. What was it like filming those scenes? Did it feel absolutely ridiculous?

No, because I was grateful. Very often you'd have dots or crosses or just a tennis ball on a stick to react to, so the fact that we actually had the soft cushioned shape of something alligator-like was a help. But it's just the nature of being an actor. You know that the CGI and the graphics and production design department, they come up with something amazing. What I didn't take on board is that, of course, he'd have these beautiful gold horns on top of his alligator sideways eyes. I love that. I've only seen the stills of it, but it looks amazing.

Your final moment in the episode is so powerful. I'll tell you, it brought tears to my eyes. On set, I imagine you're probably in front of a blue screen having to use your imagination. Tell me about capturing that emotion and how you and Kate Herron found that moment together?

The camera was on a big sort of jig crane thing that was at the highest section of the studio and I would follow a mark on that and they had, I think, three or four aircraft-sized wind machines blowing the Bajesus out of everything. And I thought, having wondered whether the helmets and the horns had to be quite so tight, I was grateful for them on that day because they did not move despite the amount of wind that was blowing at me. It was scripted to say, "He's laughing and shortly and cackling in the face of his own imminent, catastrophic death in the mouth of [Alioth]," it was very empowering to be able to just give it the full welly at doing that. So, I enjoyed that hugely.

You said you've only seen stills of Alligator Loki. Have you seen the episode yet?

No.

So, you haven't seen how the scene looks with all the CGI yet?

I've seen stills that I'm holding up the city, so I've seen that. I have never got used to watching myself on screen. I love watching other people, but when I come on, I just-- I'm astonished that I get any work. So, I've learned decades ago just to never watch. So, when you see a still, you don't have the horror of your shortcomings to mull over.

Well, I will tell you, you looked pretty bad ass in that moment.

Good. Thank you, John!

This seems like the end for Classic Loki, but if this series has taught us one thing, it's that Lokis survive. Do you think we could see him again someday? And are you down to play him again?

As you just said, everything's possible. But I think that's because his sacrifice is so huge and it's going out with such a bang, how do you top that if he had to come back? I have no idea. You know, it's not within my arena to do that. But I wouldn't say no, if asked. Put it that way.

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​

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If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

[trellanyx]

Extermination Eve

Prompt from @paradoxical-juxtaposition: How about the classic “trapped together by a mutual enemy and to survive they have to work together”?

(AO3 Link Here)

On the eve of Extermination Day, the citizens of Hell could be found doing one of two things: fortifying whatever hole in the wall they were planning to hide in, or lighting up the streets in what was, surprisingly, one of the biggest parties of the year. Because the angels arrived at midnight on the dot, the festivities started early, some as far as a week in advance. The doors to clubs and bars were left open, abandoned by their bouncers as Sinners and Hellborn alike flowed in and out.

It was at one such club that Striker was lounging in a corner booth that could seat six but housed only him. Corner seats were prime real estate in Hell, so much so that it’d become something of a joke that if you were seen sitting in a corner with a clear view of the door, folks just automatically assumed you were a hitman. The bartender was a friend of Striker’s and also fucking the owner, so Striker had no trouble claiming the safest seat in the room even on a night like tonight.

“‘One bottle of Infernal Black and a shotglass, do not spare the gin,’” recited the pretty spider demon assigned to his table, setting Striker’s drink in front of him.

“Much obliged, sugar.” Striker passed them a sizable tip and winked when they blew him a kiss. He was considering asking when their break was when he saw a familiar pair of horns step through the door.

Blitzo’s eyes predictably scanned the corner seats. When they fell on Striker, Blitzo looked like he’d been struck by a lead pipe. This was quickly followed up with a look that said he wanted to hit Striker with a lead pipe, and wanted to do it now.

“Oooh. Ex-boyfriend?” lilted the spider, their black-painted lips twisting into a puckish smirk.

“Ex-somethin’,” said Striker as Blitzo marched his way across the floor. The server wisely made themselves scarce, and Striker subtly undid the strap of the holster on his hip.

“Evenin’, stranger,” Striker drawled, even going so far as to tip his hat. He didn’t blink when Blitzo’s flintlock was pointed at his nose without so much as a by-your-leave. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your dick,” demanded Blitzo.

Striker tapped his chin, pretending to think about it. “Well…you’d regret it, for one thing.”

“HA!” Blitzo’s head tilted upward then snapped back so fast to Striker that he was surprised he didn’t hear something crack. “Get over yourself, cowbitch. Your dick’s not that impressive.”

Striker smirked, and poured himself a drink. “That’s ‘cause you haven’t seen my dick yet, partner.”

“NEVER, you mean,” snapped Blitzo. Then he paused, thinking. Striker wondered what sort of mental image Blitzo was crafting – he just hoped Blitzo didn’t think he had two cocks like an actual snake. The folks who did were always disappointed.

But only at first.

“...Ever,” Blitzo said, after a minute.

“Mmhm…” Striker grinned at Blitzo’s scowl. He couldn’t see a blush under the dark lights, but he knew it was there. He leaned forward, feeling the familiar spike of thrill he always got when he played with fire, and laced his fingers under his chin. “Do I at least get a say in my execution method?”

Blitzo’s vicious grin was more teeth than smile. “Oh, this oughta be good.”

“Keep talkin’.”

Misunderstanding the sentence, Blitzo cocked his gun. “Just wait, shitbag. When I’m done with—”

“Nah, I mean, keep talking.” Striker slid the glass of gin over to Blitzo’s side, and pressed his forehead against the flintlock’s gold barrel. Blitzo tried to take a step back, but Striker grabbed his wrist, keeping the pistol where it was.

“Talk me to death,” he purred. “I wouldn’t mind dyin’ if the last thing I got to hear was a pretty voice like yours.”

Blitzo swallowed. The rings around Striker’s eyes grew thick with want as he watched Blitzo’s own pupils dilate. Blitzo opened his mouth—

--and the world exploded.

________________

“….on you useless bastard….wake….—on’t you dare do this to me…”

Striker could barely make out the words over the ringing in his ears. His body felt like it was made up of patches, some on fire and some he was unable to feel at all. Muffled fireworks were being launched overhead, and there was a stinging not-quite-scent in the air that made his nose twitch.

Absurdly, the first coherent thought he could muster was: I didn’t even get to have my drink, you assholes.

“STRIKER!”

Blitzo slapped Striker across the face and he came to with a gasp, followed immediately by an agonized scream when a thousand waves of pain crashed down on him all at once. Blitzo hurriedly covered Striker’s mouth and threw his entire body over the other imp’s to keep him from moving.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiot!” Blitzo hissed. He took a furtive glance at the sky—which Striker could now see, because the roof had been blown off the building. Blinding silver stars streaked across the sky, and the pentagram had turned white.

Not stars, Striker realized. A cold terror stilled his tongue. Not fireworks.

Gunfire.

Angels.

Blitzo slowly removed his hand. His voice was shaking. “Yeah…” he whispered. “It’s them.”

“They’re early.” Striker stared at the sky in horror, listening to demons being slaughtered in the streets. “Why the fuck are they early?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” muttered Blitzo. Once he deemed the coast was clear, he scrambled off of Striker and returned to pushing against the giant piece of wall that had pinned Striker’s leg. “We’re more exposed than a hooker’s tits out here. We gotta go.”

“The hell d’you think are you doing?” Striker demanded. He tried to pull his leg out every time Blitzo pushed, but the rock barely moved enough to give him the space. “Get outta here!”

“And leave your ass to get skewered? Fuck that!” Blitzo’s boots scrambled to find purchase in the rubble. “I’m not getting haunted by your hillbilly ass for the rest of my life.”

“Blitzo, those fuckers could circle back any second. You ain’t got time to be playin’ hero like this!”

“Oh shut up,” Blitzo snapped. He abandoned his efforts in favor of looking for something long and heavy enough to use as leverage. “I’m an asshole, but I’m not an asshole.”

“You’re a father, you stupid fuck!” Striker pushed his other foot against the rock. “You’ve got people who need you to come back alive. Your kid and your crew and even that stuck-up ponce of an owl!”

“What, and you don’t?” Blitzo jogged back over with a long piece of rebar. He shoved one end under the rock and actually climbed on top of the other, trying to use every bit of weight his small body had. “You’re insane if you think I’m gonna make that unfairly gorgeous horse an orphan.”

Caught off guard, Striker could only laugh, helpless and hysterical. “You are insane,” he said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Blitzo looked Striker in the eye, and it all came rushing back: the resolution, the strength, the grit and the promise and the passion, everything that Striker had seen in Blitzo during the festival, everything that had made him alter his plans just for the chance to have that prideful fire in his life as long as possible…it was all there, and it stole Striker’s breath just like before.

“But I’m also not letting you die here,” Blitzo added.

Striker swallowed…then bared his bloody teeth. He shifted his hips as best he could until he could get his tail out from under him and wrap it next to Blitzo on the rebar.

“On three?” he grunted.

Blitzo’s body slumped in relief before immediately straightening with new purpose. “On three,” he agreed.

It took five tries, and one more time playing dead when an Exterminator flew over them, before Striker’s leg was freed. He raised his arm, and in seconds Blitzo had it looped around his shoulders, not complaining when Striker’s claws dug into Blitzo’s skin in pain as they staggered upright.

“How’s your gun?” asked Blitzo.

Striker pulled his pistol out of its holster and took a second to examine it. “Miraculously unscathed,” he said.

Blitzo groaned like he’d actually been shot. “Did you have to use that word?”

Striker laughed, feeling strangely giddy. “What’re gonna do, leave my ass?” he teased.

“Hell no,” said Blitzo with a mirroring expression. “You’re not getting out of an ass kicking that easy, cowboy.” He pointed them away from the massacre in the street and took one more look at the searchlight in the sky.

“Okay. I’ll steer, you shoot.”

Striker cocked his gun. “You’re the boss.”