#and then kills him in his moment of shock

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Prologue

Your mother was a beautiful kind and dangerous woman. In short. She was a Falcone. And for young Bruce, being with her was a thrill. Being Batman gave him a thrill, but your mother was a different kind of thrill.

Till she got pregnant. And the thrill was gone.

Your mother kept you of course. Counting the days till she gets to hold you in her arms. And when she finally got to hold you, to feel you close and hear your sweet little voice. The rest of the Falcone men decided that your mother wasn't ready to take care of you. So, they forced you out of her arms and sent you to Bruce.

Bruce held you once. And immediately passed you to Alfred. He was too young to become a father. (Never mind the fact he was already acting as a father to two boys)

He didn't have time to play daddy. Deep down Bruce did come to care for you over the years and attempted to try and hold you. But then Jason died, Dick distanced himself. Holding you, an innocent little thing, felt wrong.

When you were eight. You had tantrums. Night terrors. terribly scared of the dark. Thunderstorms especially. Gotham famous for its long dark nights and loud thunderstorms. Bruce, too busy with his new sidekick, Tim. Didn't have time to comfort you. No matter how heartbreaking your scrams for him were. Crying for him, so he can save you from whatever nightmare you have woken from.

But only Alfred occasionally Dick, would come and save you.

Bruce would give you toys, new dresses as a form of apology. He wouldn't give it to you directly. But have Alfred give it to you or leave it in your room when asleep. But no matter how many new toys he gives you. Those nightmares just never stopped.

Due to the neglect. Your mother was able to meet with you secretly. As years passed, she was able to steal you away when Alfred wasn't hovering around you. Take you to shop and give you whatever you wanted. Holding you in her arms and not wanting to let go.

Slowly, your mother was gaining the favor of some of the Falcones. To let her have you back. To welcome you back into the Falcone family. Once she gets the whole family to agree. She can make a case of child neglect against Bruce Wayne and take her sweet Babygirl back.

But when you were ten. Your powers began to kick in. You told Bruce, hoping your father would help you. Help you understand. Bruce, told you to keep it a secret. And to tell no one else.

Having a kid who was a meta was the last thing he needed at the moment. Trying to re-connect with Jason who still had deep hate for him instead focusing on his first-born child who was struggling to understand.

You felt like a freak.

And it wasn't long till you lost control of your powers. To keep it short. You accidently killed a few other kids with your powers. It was an accident. You swore. You see you would have just been left off. Your a kid. It was an accident. But most of all your a Wayne. But one of the kids you killed was a Falcone.

And Bruce couldn't risk you getting killed. He cared about you. Just not as much as he should. So, to avoid the wrath of the Falcone's. Bruce had to claim you were mentally ill. Sending you to Arkham. Only for a few months. That's what he said to you. That's what he promised.

You did your six months in Arkham. Six months turned to eight. Eight months turned to ten. Ten months turned to two years. Then finally, you were taken out from your cell. Lead by two prison guards. They said you had a visitor. You assumed it was another reporter. But was proven wrong when you see Bruce on the other side of the thick glass. You were shocked but happy to see your father.

"Daddy." You spoke softly as you slowly smile, putting your hand on the glass. Bruce hesitates to put his hand on the glass, once he does, he focused back to you. Your eyes stared at him with so much love and hope.

". . . Your case. . . the court decided you're, too unstable to attend court, so. . ." Bruce didn't look at you as he spoke. So, he couldn't see the smile on your face fade. Confusion taking over.

"But. . . I did my six months. . . I-I've been here for a year! Daddy, please I didn't do it on purpose!" You were on the edge of crying.

"I promise. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can." Bruce wanted to try and console you. But that was harder due to the glass between you two. He reaches out his hand to the glass once more. But the loud buzz that queued it was time for you to get back to your cell.

"Please Daddy don't let them take me!" You cried, putting both hands on the glass. You were in full despair. Bruce didn't know what to do. He can take the risk from the Falcones and get you out with a snap of his fingers. Or he can make it easy for everyone but you and wait till you serve your time.

". . . I'm sorry" Bruce can see you falling deeper and deeper into dispare.

Guards burst from the doors and had to forcefully take you away.

"No- No! Daddy please! DADDY!" Your screamed louder as the guards took you away, reaching out to Bruce who just stood there. And did nothing. As always.

Seven years later.

No one ever visited you again. Well, no one from the Waynes. But your mother visited you every week. Her visits where the only reason you kept saine.

Arkham isn't all fun and games. Obviously. You were immitted into Arkham's fucked version of rehabilitation. You started hearing things after your first month in Arkham.

. . .

You sent letters almost every day to the Wayne manor. But never got any back. None from Bruce. None from Dick. You and Tim weren't close. So, you didn't expect anything from him. Alfred prefers to call you. Wanting to hear your voice to make sure you were not lying to him when he asks of your wellbeing.

You stopped sending letters to Bruce a few months ago. Not like he'll respond anyway. You don't need Bruce. You have your mother. And she's all you'll need. She's your world now, your reason to keep living this pointless life. And once you're out, Mama promised to give you a big hug. Which you so desperately needed.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢. . . 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎?"

[the-winter-spider]

I Cant Lose You | One Shot

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: Angst, happy ending

A/N: So i decided not to post the next part to invisible buuut i found this in my docs so ENJOY! Next part to invisible will be tomorroooooow 🫶🏻

------

The mission had been tense from the start, the kind where every breath feels weighted, every sound sharper and more hostile. You were deep in the enemy’s territory, with Bucky and Steve moving in coordinated silence beside you. The plan was simple, clean: get in, retrieve the intel, and get out without raising an alarm. But simplicity has a way of unraveling in the field.

It happened as you were crossing a narrow bridge suspended over a steep drop in the facility. Bucky was a few steps ahead, his steps purposeful and focused, eyes scanning for movement in the dimly lit corridors. You were behind him, keeping an eye on your surroundings, and that’s when you saw it—the faint red dot creeping along Bucky’s shoulder, inching its way toward his head.

In a split-second, adrenaline took over. You didn’t have time to shout or warn him; instinct propelled you forward, reaching out to shove him out of the path of the sniper’s aim. Your hands collided with Bucky’s shoulder, and he stumbled to the side, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the laser at the last moment.

The bullet whizzed past, so close that you felt the heat of it graze the top of your head, ruffling your hair and leaving your skin tingling. Everything blurred into chaos after that.

“Sniper!” Steve’s voice rang out, his shield already up, glancing off another shot that was fired from a different direction. Bucky, having steadied himself, immediately spun back toward you, his face stricken with shock and anger.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice raw with a mixture of fear, panic and fury. But there was no time for a response.

You, Steve, and Bucky sprang into action, Steve moving to cover you both as more gunfire erupted. Bucky’s eyes kept darting back to you, though, his brows knitted in frustration and worry, even as he returned fire at the enemy agents now pouring in.

After a series of quick movements—ducking, dodging, and retaliating against your attackers—you finally managed to escape the sniper’s line of sight, though the firefight was far from over. Bucky was on edge, barely speaking, his glances sharp and laced with anger, even as he fought to keep you both alive.

The three of you pressed forward, securing the intel and making your way back toward the extraction point with the enemies hot on your heels. When you finally boarded the jet and the door sealed shut behind you, the adrenaline drained, leaving silence and the weight of what had just happened between you and Bucky.

As soon as you sat down, Bucky whirled around to face you, his eyes dark with a storm of emotions he’d kept at bay during the fight.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped. “You could’ve been killed! Do you even understand that?”

His voice was loud, filled with a mix of anger and hurt, and all you could do was stare back, breathless, still reeling from everything that had happened. You wanted to tell him you’d do it again in a heartbeat, that protecting him was worth any risk to yourself. But your words fell silent, swallowed by the guilt and fear lingering between you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off. “Do you know how reckless that was? Running headfirst into a line of fire? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

You flinched, both from his tone and from the truth in his words, but all you could think about was the image of him out there, narrowly avoiding enemy fire, and the fact that you would have done anything to make sure he was safe—even if it meant putting yourself in danger. The silence that followed throughout the jet, the rest of the way home was antagonizing. Bucky steered clear of you the entire time, keeping myself stationed at the front of the jet while you were at the back. Steve made is way over to you, handing you a water before double checking you werent injured and the top of tour head really was okay, he sighed "You got lucky" before he stepped away taking a seat by Bucky. 

Your mind was blank the rest of the flight till you landed and he got up, surely the 3 hour flight of pure silence was enough for him to have calmed down, right? “Bucky, I—”

“No!" He shot back instantly whipping around "You don’t get to justify it, We’re a team, and you don’t get to put yourself at risk like that. Not for me, not for anyone!” He screamed

“Enough,” Steve interjected, his tone sharp but even. He glanced between the two of you, then fixed his gaze on Bucky. “You need to cool off.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, fists clenching as he looked away, clearly fighting to hold back words he’d regret. Without another word, he stormed off the jet, the sound of his boots heavy against the metal floor.

You sat back, the sting of his words lingering. Steve watched Bucky disappear down the ramp, then sighed, glancing back at you. “Give him some time. He’s… he’s not wrong, though. What you did was reckless, it was stupid…Bucky could have taken that bullet, you couldn't have. Were going to have to talk about it in the morning”

The knot in your stomach tightened, a mixture of anger and guilt settling there. “Are you telling me this as a friend or as my captain?” you asked, looking at Steve with a heavy heart.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he let out a long sigh. “As both.”

You nodded, the weight of his words hitting you hard. Steve gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he exited, leaving you alone in the silence of the jet.

The reality of what happened started to replay in your mind, each moment sharper than the last. The risks you took, the decisions you made—they all came rushing back with a clarity that made your heart pound faster.

You weren’t reckless, you told yourself. You’d do it all over again if it meant protecting Bucky. His life, his safety… it felt like they mattered more than your own. And yet, you couldn’t shake the memory of the anger in his eyes, the frustration in his voice.

The thoughts spiralled, it had to be you, it could never be him. You couldn't possibly live your life without him, he could hate you all he wanted but as long as he was still breathing you would do it again Oh god what if he hated you? What if he requested for you to no longer be on missions with you? What if….your chest tightened as the weight of everything sank in. Your breathing hitched as the fear you’d pushed aside for the mission came crashing down on you all at once. It was too much, too fast. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the feeling that you’d done something irreparably wrong.

Your hands began to tremble, and the walls of the jet seemed to close in around you. Panic clawed its way up your throat, your heart hammering as you struggled to ground yourself, to calm down, but the storm in your mind only grew louder.

It was as if all the emotions you’d held back—fear, guilt, anger—were suffocating you. The jet felt smaller and smaller, and you pressed a hand to your chest, desperate to find some relief, some way to breathe again.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, caught in the throes of panic, your mind racing in an endless loop of fear and self-doubt. But the thought that kept resurfacing, the one that hurt the most, was that maybe Bucky was right.

Maybe you had been reckless. And maybe, just maybe, you deserved the anger he’d shown.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the jet. The silence around you felt thick, pressing down, wrapping around you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You stood up, needing movement, air, something to break through the crushing feeling in your chest.

As soon as you were on your feet, your legs felt unsteady, but you started pacing, hoping the movement would help you breathe. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding faster with every loop around the narrow space. Your breaths came quicker, shorter, until you could barely catch them at all.

A cold sweat broke out across your skin as the room seemed to close in, the walls shifting, blurring at the edges. You tried to take a deep breath, but it was like swallowing glass. Your chest tightened, clenching inwards with each failed attempt to fill your lungs. Panic clawed up your throat, relentless and raw, choking you with every passing second.

Your hands began to shake, fingers tingling with numbness. You pressed them to your sides, hoping the pressure would help, but it only made the sensation sharper, like a warning that something inside was breaking.

You leaned against the wall, your forehead pressed to the cool metal as you fought to ground yourself. But every thought spun out of control, everything a mess in your mind. Bucky’s anger, Steve’s disappointment, the mission replaying in fragments—each one tearing through you, louder and more chaotic.

A small sound escaped your lips, half a gasp, half a whimper, and you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle it, but it only made you feel more trapped. You couldn’t stop the spiral, the way every breath was too shallow, too desperate, your vision tunnelling as the edges went dark.

Your legs gave out, and you slumped down to the floor, your back against the cold wall. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rocking slightly, trying to find something steady to hold on to. The air in your lungs felt thin, useless, and every inhale felt like it barely reached your throat.

You were unravelling, losing control, and you couldn’t stop it. The realisation made the panic surge all over again, until you could barely see, barely hear, barely feel anything but the racing of your own heart and the suffocating silence surrounding you.

Each passing second seemed to stretch out, leaving you alone with your spiralling thoughts and the overwhelming weight pressing down on your chest. You’d never felt so trapped in your own body, fighting for breath, for calm, for anything that felt real.

-------

Bucky paced furiously across his room, the soles of his boots nearly grinding into the floor as he replayed the mission in his mind. He was still in his tactical gear, smeared with dust and the faint marks of their close call. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he thought of you—sweet, kind, beautiful you—throwing yourself in harm’s way to shield him, risking everything in an instant. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would you do that? Why would you ever take that risk for him?

A knock at the door broke him from his spiraling thoughts. It was Steve, fresh out of the shower, no longer in his gear, looking calm and collected—everything Bucky wasn’t. Steve’s eyes flicked to Bucky’s uniform. “You’re still in your gear?”

Bucky shrugged, jaw tightening. He wasn’t ready to let it go, still too on edge, too frustrated. Steve watched him with a steady gaze. “You didn’t have to yell at her.”

Bucky turned, exasperation clear in his expression. “You were there, Steve. You saw what she did. She pushed me out of the goddamn way when that sniper had his sight on me!”

Steve sighed, leaning against the doorway. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor pacing like that. And you know, you would’ve done the same for her.”

“Yes, so?” Bucky snapped, his voice sharp and defensive.

“Come on, pal,” Steve said, his voice softening as he looked at Bucky knowingly. “You would’ve done the same for her.” His eyes lingered on Bucky, an unspoken understanding passing between them, the implication of his words sinking in.

Bucky’s eyes glistened “Stevie it barely missed her head” Bucky took in a shaky breath “She was almost gone, I almost lost her, that bullet would have hit me in the shoulder i could have taken it, but one hair lower it would have….”

Steve uncrossed his arms, sighing he reached out squeezing Bucky’s shoulder “I know”

Bucky faltered, his chest tightening, his anger softening for a moment as both hope and doubt flickered across his mind. His voice was barely a whisper. “Where is she?”

Steve’s face softened further. “Probably in her room. She was the last one off the jet.” Steve turned his head up slightly to speak to the A.I. “Friday? Where’s Y/N?”

The AI’s calm voice filled the room. “Agent Y/N is still aboard the jet.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a confused look. It had been over an hour since they’d returned. Without a word, they both headed toward the hangar, quickening their pace as unease filled the air.

“She didn’t get hurt, did she?” Bucky asked, worry clear in his voice.

“No,” Steve assured him, “I checked her over myself.” He paused, noticing Bucky’s skeptical look. “Thoroughly.”

They picked up the pace, concern edging into panic as they approached the jet. When they entered, they found you there, huddled in the corner of the seating area, arms wrapped around yourself, breathing fast and shallow, eyes unfocused and filled with panic. Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight.

“Doll?,” he called softly, rushing to your side, dropping down to his knees in front of you. His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes met his, wide and tearful, and a soft, choked gasp escaped your lips as you gripped onto his shirt, holding on like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Steve’s voice broke through the silence. “Friday, what’s going on?”

Friday’s response was calm, but the words made Bucky’s stomach drop. “It appears Agent Y/N is experiencing a panic attack.”

Bucky’s face softened with worry, his hands steady as he stroked your cheeks, trying to draw you back to him. “It’s okay. I’m here. Breathe with me, alright?” His voice was soft, a gentle anchor in the chaos of your mind.

He inhaled deeply, exaggerating each breath, trying to guide you with him. His fingers ran through your hair, his touch steady, comforting. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re here with me. Just breathe.”

Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt as you tried to match his breaths, each one a struggle, but his presence steadied you, grounding you little by little. He held you close, whispering soft reassurances, repeating, “I got you…..you’re safe….I’m right here.”

Slowly, the panic began to ebb, your breaths evening out, the warmth of his voice and touch anchoring you in the present.

When you finally manage to catch your breath, it’s still jagged, still shaky, but enough to force words out.

“I can’t lose you,” you say, voice barely a whisper, each word choked and strained. “I couldn’t lose you. I can’t live without you.” Your hand clenches tighter in Bucky’s shirt as you stammer, “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.”

Steve glances between you two, understanding dawning on his face. With a quiet nod, he steps back, offering you both a moment of privacy. “I’m gonna get you some water,” he murmurs, but you barely register his voice. All your focus is on Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, his gaze locked on yours.

“You’ll never lose me,” he says softly, his hands holding your face with a gentleness that tugs at your heart. His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tremor, his eyes dark with something that goes deeper than fear, deeper than anger.

“I almost did, I could have” you murmur, and his face shifts, guilt flashing across his features.

Bucky’s thumb sweeps over your cheek. “I can’t lose you either, i could have lost you, I -I, You… you can’t be doing that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His voice cracks, his own vulnerability laid bare. “I know that’s not saying a lot, but my life… it’s been hell. And you—you’re everything to me.”

Your heart pounds as his words sink in, the warmth of his hands on your face grounding you, drawing you closer. You reach for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him in until there’s barely any space between you.

And then, as if pulled by an unbreakable force, his lips find yours, a soft, tender kiss that feels like the culmination of everything unsaid between you. His hands slide from your cheeks to cradle you closer, his touch delicate, reverent, as if you’re something precious—something he’s finally allowed to hold.

When you part, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. He looks at you with a softness that makes you ache, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, “I love you.”

In that moment, nothing else exists. Just you and him, finally admitting the truth you’ve both known all along.

[obxsummer]

loml (loss of my life) // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: jj up and leaves in search of his dad after receiving a weird letter and kiara witnesses a showdown between you and rafe that reveals more about what happened between the two of you than you wanted to share.

warnings: angsty angst angst, ptsd, rafe cameron muahaha, szn 4 spoilers

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Let’s do a little recap, okay?

In the last 48-72 hours, a lot of shit had gone down. And now, the seven of you were rehashing the details, so, might as well share them. JJ bid off the last of the gold, Wes Genrette gave y’all five grand to find a necklace, you and JJ found the necklace but managed to land in the hospital, Wes ended up dead somehow, Topper’s girlfriend almost killed you all, Cleo got kidnapped, JJ got interrogated by Shoupe because Kooks take no threat lightly, and now Terrance was dead in your living room.

Yeah, dead. In the living room.

So, that’s what everyone had been up to. For the most part, anyway.

You slept. You slept for 14 hours with no interruption and no intent of doing anything else as rain battered against the windows. The last few days didn’t feel real and you were terrified the moment you tried to get going again, something else would go wrong.

The rest of the Pogues handled things while leaving you to rest, to which you were extremely grateful. Cleo climbed in bed with you at some point, sobbing into your chest as you held her tightly, allowing her the space to let out all emotions.

After laying Terrance to rest, the lot of you were heading to Charleston in hopes of figuring out what exactly the amulet inscription said. There was of course the matter of the property tax and zoning change lingering over your heads while all of this was decided.

You hung back with JJ while he fixed the Twinkie, agreeing to prep the store for your departure and handle business until you had to leave. It wasn’t anything too heavy on your brain but it kept you occupied enough to prevent thinking about worse things.

“Babe.” JJ came flying into the covered dock with a rush, practically tripping on his own feet to get to you.

“What’s wrong?”

The instant concern on your face made him feel guilty. You’d been jumpy, rightly so, after everything happened. Especially now that the cops were aware of JJ’s threat, it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for you in retaliation.

He held a piece of paper in front of your face, waving it around chaotically where you couldn’t catch a glimpse of the writing. “I gotta go. I gotta- look.”

“Breathe.” You put your hands on his shoulders to keep him upright. “What is it?”

“A letter, from Wes Genrette. Said my dad would know, I gotta find him.”

“Your dad?!” You repeated in shock, hoping he was lying or at least misspeaking. “Jayj, your dad left.”

He shook his head, jumping forward to kiss you like his life depended on it. Fingers slipping into your hair, he repeated his action before pulling away. “Gotta trust me, baby. Be careful, alright? Go to Charleston, stay with John B. I’ll be back.”

You nodded in response, holding on to his fingers as long as you could before he pulled away and ran down the dock to the HMS Pogue. You hated not know what he intended on doing, but like he said, you had to trust him. No matter what, you trusted him. And maybe it would bite you in the ass, but you had to try.

Not long after, the remainder of the group returned from their ceremony for Terrance and found you in the shop. You sat on the counter where you’d been in a daze while watching the water.

“What’s up?” John B asked as he tapped the counter surface and climbed up next to you, recognizing the look in your eyes enough to know you weren’t fully present. The group piled in the area, taking their own spots.

“JJ left,” You explained directly. “Came running in here spewing all this shit about his dad, took the HMS, and left.”

Pope frowned at the news and grabbed a bag of chips to munch on. “Ohhkay. Are we supposed to wait on him or?”

You shook your head. “He said go. He’d catch up later.”

“Are you okay with that?” John B watched you carefully, knowing last time you’d left JJ in Kildare with no way to get ahold of him had terrified you. He promised to never do that to you again, to make sure you were comfortable and in the right state of mind to make those decisions yourself.

You looked over at your brother and shrugged honestly. “He said it had to do with his dad, John B. I don’t like that.”

“He said to go,” Cleo repeated as she dug her knife into the wood of the support post. “We should go.”

You licked your lips and took a deep breath. She was right. JJ was fully capable of handling himself, and with the dirt bikes here, he could catch up easily if he wanted. Nodding, you looked at John B. “She’s right, we need to go.”

John B nodded when you didn’t budge. “Alright, we’ll go load up the Twinkie. Meet us up there, when you’re ready.”

The group followed your brother up to the house, giving you some space and time to wrap up the shop and get your things together.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Kiara standing a few feet away from you, her fingers tangled together in nervousness.

“Hi,” You returned the greeting and climbed off the counter, shifting behind the register to collect the cash from today and lock up.

Kie walked a little closer and cleared her throat. “I just…um. I wanted to say I’m sorry, for the other day on the beach. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that when you had a good point.”

Your hands moved absentmindedly to band together the few bills you’d collected for the day before tucking them in the lockbox and hiding it in the safe. Kiara continued to try and explain herself, which you appreciated, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Kie,” You interrupted her softly with a small laugh, “It’s okay, girl. I promise.”

“I just got really scared,” She admitted sheepishly and tugged on her curly hair. “I saw us getting attacked, again, and someone going to jail. And I… I can’t do that again. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“I get it Kie, really. I mean, at first, I was upset because why were you mad that I was trying to defend us but to be honest, there’s so much more going on right now that my mind is clouded with.” You weren’t trying to come off rude, but the way she immediately switched on you as if she wouldn’t have lost her mind over dead baby turtles…

“Are y’all done?” Your heart dropped at the all too familiar voice and you looked up to meet Rafe Cameron’s eyes. He smirked at your shocked expression and he took a step closer making you take one back.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was shaky and you refused to break eye-contact with him. The pocket knife slipped between your fingers as Kiara moved to stand behind you.

Rafe scratched his head as if his presence was a normal thing and he wandered around the shop, running his fingers across the shelves. “Uh, yeah. Do you—what you don’t think I’m just a customer coming to shop?”

“Rafe,” You snapped, your tone having a bite to it to let him know you weren’t down for games.

He fiddled with random items as he crossed the wooden floor to get closer to you and Kie. “I’m just looking for my sister.”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Kiara answered as her fingers wrapped around your elbow. How Rafe managed to get in here without any of your friends noticing, you weren’t sure.

“Well, she’s my sister, okay? I can come have a little chat with her if I want,” He dismissed with a scoff. He grabbed a snow globe in his hands and your mind suddenly went to the ways he would probably kill you with it. “That was a really nice performance yesterday at the break. Really fun to watch, it was awesome. You know this place is on the chopping block, right?”

“Let me guess, you’re behind that or something?” You sneered at his nonchalant attitude. “I don’t know why Sofia puts up with you.”

Rafe flipped around pretty quick at the mention of the girl’s name. “You really ran your mouth to her huh? Took me a while to convince her that things had changed.”

“Did you drug her too?”

He was quick to close the gap between you, hands pressing against the counter that barely separated the two of you. “No, no. She uh, told me about your little problem, though.” Rafe motioned toward your abdomen with a hint of a smirk on his face.

Your eyes burned with tears as you realized what he was referring to, and you’d never felt betrayal like this in your life. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

He groaned and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes like his brain had flipped a switch. “Fuck, that’s not- no. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You did!” You spat as tears fell down your cheeks. Kiara’s gaze was burning into the side of your head as she watched the two of you argue, no words coming to mind as she watched you cry. “You always mean it!”

Pope clocked your distance immediately. He knew you wouldn’t be super warm and energetic after coming back from the Camerons’, even less so with John B in prison. He knew that, but there was something off about it. You weren’t just hiding away to cope, you were hiding in pain.

From the subtle wincing, the paleness in your skin, and slow movements, something was wrong. At first he chalked it up to getting your nutrition back and sleeping properly, but when it didn’t improve, Pope knew he needed to step in. 

It didn’t come to that, though. You’d pulled him away from plotting on how to catch Ward and Rafe and into the hushed space of your room. As much as you wanted to handle it all on your own, you knew if any of your friends could keep things down low and quiet, it would be Pope. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soothing and concerned as you paced in front of your bed. 

The darkness in your eyes was so sad, and so terrified that Pope was worried you were too far past where he could help. You stopped in front of him, hands shaking as you laid out the details of your concern..

“I need your help, Pope. Please, I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe paced a few steps and shook his head. “You know, I came here to try and do you a solid, a-and you just push my buttons every time that-“ He paused and let out a deep breath. “I want to be better. I want to try and be a good brother, and fix what happened but,” He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes and you stumbled back. “You guys always wonder why you end up at the bottom of the food chain, it’s…it’s sad.”

You almost choked on your tears and attempted to give him the most menacing glare but it was useless. Stabbing you in the heart would’ve been less painful than this.

He walked around the counter to face you directly and you decided then you had nothing to lose. If he killed you, it would be welcomed at this point. He’d shredded you down to bones and still couldn’t stop taking digs at the scars left behind.

Every movement of his body screamed addiction withdrawal, and while you hoped he could be better for Sofia, you didn’t believe he could change. You wished the light in his eyes would fucking burn, that you didn’t have the empathy to hope for him to get better but God, you did. You wished Rafe Cameron would’ve been a better person. And you wish the world wouldn’t have been so cruel to him that he could’ve been better to you.

Rafe’s hand was shaking as he placed it on your arm gently. His face contorted when you gasped like he’d burned you and he pulled back. Instead, he reached into his pocket and held out a small card between his fingers. “I… this is my business card. Tell Sarah to call me, I think I can help. Or… or if you need anything to help, okay? I’m not your enemy.”

Silence hovered the three of you, Kiara’s fingers in your back pocket as you stood eye to eye with the person who ruined your entire past and most of your future. He must’ve realized you had nothing to say and dismissed himself from the store without another word.

The second the bell rang with his exit, your knees gave out and hit the floor. You gasped and heaved for air, threatening to throw up the breakfast JJ had made you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Kiara reassured as you sobbed. “He’s gone.”

You forced a deep breath in your lungs and held it as long as possible. You were so sick of crying and feeling useless when everyone else seemed to take it all in strides and you were left a broken piece at the starting line. Life was so cruel to you, and now, more than ever, you wanted to give up on trying to run from the impending reminder that Rafe Cameron scarred you in more ways than one.

“Breathe,” Kiara reminded you as she scanned your eyes for any sign of pain. “John B!”

The yell for your brother had you clamming up as you jumped to stop her. There were so many tears on your face and you looked so scared. “No, don’t call John B.”

Kie shook her head, utterly confused and concerned by your actions. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

You whimpered and laid back on the floor with a shaky breath. “I will, but you have to swear on your life not to tell anyone. Not John B, none of them, okay?

If Kiara wasn’t so rattled by the last twenty minutes, she would’ve probably agreed with crossed fingers for your safety. But seeing you like this, so raw in front of her after she’d yelled at you for expressing your feelings, she nodded. “Yeah, okay. Okay. I swear.”

It took a few more deep breaths to settle enough to speak without hiccuped sobs seeping in your words. And so you told her. You told her what happened in the Camerons’ house, how Rafe had left you with more than surface level scars and how you’d never forgiven yourself for giving up, for letting him win.

Because some people only got one chance at family, and Rafe Cameron had taken that from you before you even had the slightest idea what life would mean without it.

--

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

a/n: broke this chap into two parts to give you more original content in the next one! more insight into the reader's time at the cameron house ;)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You sense movement, you hear scuffing, and feel the air shift. Yet all you can focus on is each breath. Your chest throbs with the effort it takes to just keep going. To just keep living. 

The smell of gunpowder clogs your nose and the taste of bile stains your tongue. The adrenaline seeps from you, leaving you weak and wilting. Your arms tremble as you barely keep yourself from crumpling into a heap. 

Your legs are bent to one side and your head hangs under an invisible veil. He’s dead. Your father is dead. You killed him. But why aren’t you sad? 

You’re afraid. Anxious. Addled. But you’re not sad. You have no remorse for the life lost. That is what hurts. Your own callousness stabs you in the heart. 

You shudder and heave again. Barnes’ shadow looms over you and slowly, he bends his knees to come to level with you. He has his gun in his hand. He holds it without intent. 

“You got what you asked for. My end is done,” he says. 

You raise your head slowly and look at him. You blink. His end... what about yours? 

“It’s late. You’re tired,” he reaches to slide the gun into his holster. “You’re gonna go home and you’re going to sleep. And in the morning, when my man comes to hand you that black envelope, you’re going to cry and act shocked.” 

You push your lip out and shake your head. You search his expression. He is stoic and unbothered. 

“That’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it, doll?” He prompts. 

You swallow, “what do you want--” 

“I just told you what I want you to do,” he interjects. “Don’t you worry, I always collect my debts.” 

He stands and tugs on his cuffs. He faces the chair and you slowly follow his gaze to the corpse. Your father’s face is slack and lifeless. You’re horrified at the sight of death, that it’s his, doesn’t affect you as much. 

You sit and stare and try to feel. That’s your father. That’s the man who is responsible for your very being. You share blood. He has been there every moment of your life. His is a constant.  

Not anymore and that just doesn’t matter to you. It should. Shouldn’t it? 

Well, what is there to miss about him? 

“Stand up and walk out of here. There’s a light pole by the gate. Wait there.” Barnes instructs without looking back. 

He pushes his arms back and slides off his jacket. He folds it and places it on the bare metal table by the wall. He turns back and unbuttons his sleeves. He rolls them as he nears your father’s body. 

“I’m being patient because I know you’re in shock, so I’ll tell you one my time to go,” he says, focus on the dead man. “You and your sisters are under my protection. Go and be with them.” 

You take a breath and steady yourself as best you can. You stand and hug yourself. You look at your father one last time and turn away. You walk out stiffly. Now that you’re on your feet, you don’t ever want to stop.  

You pass through the door and trod across the tarmac. You come into the yellow cone of light cast beneath the tall pole and stop. You wait. Not long before Rogers appears in his black cadillac. 

That woman is gone. You don’t wonder who she is. If she’s with him, she must be one of them. You are too. You were born into that life, but now, you really do belong. 

Neither of you say a word as he drives you home. You don’t look back as you get out of the car and go inside. Your sisters aren’t home yet. You don’t expect them to be. You can never go to The Reel without stopping at the milkshake place after and they stay open late for the movie goers. 

Those little details are so meaningless now. Nothing really makes a difference. Life is a fraying thread and it will snap. You just don’t know which tug will be the one that breaks it. 

You go upstairs and undress. You pull on a pajama set and take your clothes downstairs to the bin. You lay down on the couch and wait for your sisters. 

When they get home, you quietly listen to them jabber. They talk about the movie. Kitty loves how good it looked. It must have been remastered and Adrienne got the last bag of caramel corn. You force a smile but it doesn’t feel believable. It must be. They give you your box of chocolate-covered raisins and wish you a good night. 

You follow them upstairs. As you get to your door, Adrienne says your name. Both you and Kitty stop and look at her. 

“I wish every day could be like this,” she says. 

Kitty nods, “yeah, I hope he never comes home.” 

Your heart feels like it’s stopped. You don’t know how you’re doing it. You don’t know how you’re not shrieking and pulling your hair out. Any sane person would be a puddle. He's not coming back. Your father is dead and you killed him. 

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” You say at last. “Good night.” 

“Night,” Adrienne chimes back and Kitty echoes her. 

You all go into your rooms and shut the doors. You put the raisins on the dresser and ignore your bed. You go to the closet where you used to hide and listen to your father yell. You sit on the floor and lean into the wall. You hug your legs and stare into the static darkness. 

The night is long and sleepless. Your head dips now and again but you start as the echo of a gunshot brings you back before you can succumb to the depths. The morning light peers in from the other side of the slatted door. 

You climb out of the closet and listen to the house. You stay in your room. You hear Kitty’s door first, then Adrienne’s a few minutes later. You stand by your door and argue with yourself. Just go. Go out and act like everything is normal. Go and enjoy your new life free of that tyrant. 

It’s only the doorbell that makes you go out. You hear footsteps below and you open your door. You come to the top of the stairs as Kitty stands at the door. Adrienne appears just behind her. 

“Courtesy of the boss,” Rogers deep voice is crisp in the early hours. 

Kitty thanks him in a whisper. She shuts the door as he goes. She doesn’t move until you hear his car engine. 

“What is it?” Adrienne asks. 

Kitty turns. You sit on the top stair as she holds the black envelope. Her eyes are stuck to it. Adrienne stumbles and catches herself on the wall. You languish in the silence. All three of you. 

Kitty looks up at you and you look between her and Adrienne. Your eyes search each other, taking turns, frozen, frightened. Now that your father is gone, what happens to you? 

[slut4bill]

All For You - B.Kaulitz

𝜗𝜚 - bill kaulitz x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 - horror

𝜗𝜚 - mentions of blood, murder, just gore in general

ღ - a/n: decided to try my hand at writing horror while I work on some smut fics...

"Baby" he cooed in your ear, putting on his sweet innocent facade as if he hadn't just brutally murdered your best friend right in front of your eyes. You felt sick to your stomach looking at the bloody scene in front of you, almost gagging when you saw what looked like a chunk of brain next to what used to be a head.

It wasn't always like this of course. When you first met him, he seemed like a sweet, decent guy, much different from the losers you were used to going out with, those men always used to getting praise for doing the bare minimum. Bill, however, would buy you gifts and shower you with love and affection, and in your eyes, he was the best boyfriend you had ever had. Perfect even. But of course, like all good things it had to come to an end, this whole 'perfect boyfriend' act becoming too good to be true. It started slow, as you noticed the way he started to become more protective of you but that was only natural right? He was just being a good boyfriend and it seemed like a sweet gesture. But then he started to get weirdly clingy, never leaving your side, always begging to spend every moment of every day with you which was a bit odd but hey you can't exactly say you hated the attention. Next came the small bit of obsession, it seemed normal at first just a few small mumbled I need yous or a random moment where he accidently blurted out something you swore you had never told him. And then came the killings, almost like a real life scream movie except the murders were never random, always someone you knew, someone you had just talked to the day before you saw their disfigured bloody body on the news. You were terrified when your boyfriend, the guy you loved so much, the guy who you swore would never hurt a fly, came crawling in through your bedroom window covered in blood with a toothy grin on his face as if he had just accomplished the greatest thing in the world. You were frozen in fear, eyes wide open as you tried to wrap your head around the sight in front of you. He trapped you in a warm embrace kissing all over your face assuring you that everything was fine and trying to convince you that all the people he killed had a reason to die.

Bullshit

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the feeling of lips pressing against your neck and the warmth of a pair of arms tightening around your waist. The only sounds filling the atmosphere were the soft clicks of Bills lips leaving your neck with a small 'tch' sound, not seeming to be stopping anytime soon. "Did you like my surprise?" he asked in a hushed tone breaking the silence. What? "What?" I ask more rhetorically than literally as tears brimmed at my waterline threatening to spill at any second. "Did you like my surprise?" he repeats again emphasizing every word this time. "I did this all for you baby, for us" he whispered in my ear as he continued trailing soft kisses down my neck. "Did I like it?" I laughed, "Did I fucking like it are you fucking insane you psycho piece of shit??" I yell as my voice shakes in anger, fear and shock. He looked down at me with a small hint of hurt in his eyes. "Don't yell love I was doing something nice for us" he frowns as if you getting upset about this was unnatural. you look up at him in disbelief. How is he failing to see what exactly is wrong about this? "How is this nice Bill you killed my best friend what is wrong with you-" you cut yourself off as your voice began to crack signaling that you were about to start crying. You sob looking at the lifeless being on the bathroom floor, the tiles already smeared with blood. "My best friend- h-how could you Bill" you asked in a hoarse voice, body still shaking from the breakdown you were having. He just hugged you tighter against his chest leaning down to kiss your cheek. We both stood in silence for a moment before he spoke up again. "She was trying to take you away from me I couldn't have that love you have to understand" he explained trying to reason with you. You were speechless and scared. More scared of your own feelings than the gruesome scene that had just unfolded in front of your eyes. Scared because despite everything he's done, what he just did, a part of you still loved him. And you couldn't bring yourself to push him away. "Let's go get you cleaned up, yeah baby?" he says referring to the small splatters of blood on your face and clothes sure to leave a stain later. You just nod still in shock and not able to properly speak as your mind tries to process everything that just happened. "Arms up" he hums as he lifts your shirt up over your head tossing it on the bloodied ground somewhere. He unclips your bra tossing it near the shirt and bends down to do the same with your jeans and underwear. He helps you step over the body and turns on the shower waiting for the water to heat up. Once it started to get warm, he carefully helped you in the bathtub squirting some shampoo in his hand and lathering it on your head, making sure not to get any in your eyes.

"I love you baby, I always will" he hummed in an affectionate voice, looking at you with nothing but genuine love in his eyes.

and you loved him too.

You were trapped in a living nightmare.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1100

Chapter 28:

Evanora's ghost might have left Agatha's body and be defeated, but it was not over yet. For Alice's power kept being absorbed by Agatha.

At first, Agatha did try to pull more; a subconscious need to get some magic into her system like someone that had been thirsty for too long and was finally given water.

However, hearing the shouts of the coven and seeing Aice weakening face; Agatha realized she was killing her. She did try to stop, but her body kept absorbing the magic, draining Alice with each passing second.

"Y/N! Do something!" Alice shouted, turning to the frozen you.

"I can't! My magic will kill her!" You confessed amongst the ongoing panic.

The nature of your magic was special, pure one might say it. You could blast Agatha, but she would subconsciously draw your power, too. The only issue is the fact that if she dared to absorb a lot of your power; she would die.

"Do something!" Jen insisted, and yet you remained where you were.

You knew she could not be stopped, for you had never seen her do that. Once she got even tackled and body slammed and yet she kept absorbing; ending only when knocked unconscious or all the magic had been absorbed.

And you could not harm Agatha, not to that degree to make her stop. All you could do was watch helpless as Alice's skins started to wrinkle and dry; literally being suck alive.

During the chaos, Teen took notice that the Ouija board thrown to the side was alive, or at least the pendulum was moving. He wasted no time rushing towards it, hoping it would offer some help...any kind of help before it was too late.

"Who are you?" He asked, and immediately, the pendulum started to spell letters. "N, I, C, H, O, L, A, S, S, C, R, A, T, C, H. Nicholas Scratch." The time on the watches beeped, as if accepting the answer. "Nicholas Scratch!" Teen shouted.

Suddenly, the familiar voice of a young boy echoed across the room. "Mama! Stop."

Your eyes grew wide, and the shock was big enough to make you lose concentration on your magic and let it die. "Little Nicky?" You questioned, desperately looking around for any signs of his ghost self.

You were not the only one affected by it, though.

The boy's voice and his nickname that you dared to say out loud bypass all the defences of Agatha and shock her to the core; resulting in her stop absorbing Alice magic and life force.

Wounded and emotionally hurt, Agatha looked around with hope of seeing her son; who had left her one night, and she never gotten to truly say her goodbye.

Yet she saw nothing for the timers on the wrist watches reached its end, the beeping sound unlocking the exit and also signalling the end of the trial.

"...no..." Agatha whispered faintly.

"Alice. Alice. Wake up." Teen shouted as he rushed to the fallen witch. "Alice, please wake up. Alice!"

His voice was filled with fear, and everyone focused on him, seeing Alice dead on the floor. She had been sucked dry, her skin parched and white; eyes wide open.

Agatha had not been interrupted fast enough, and now one more coven member was dead.

The magicless witch tried to approach, to check in case Alice was weakened but not dead.

Teen did not let her. His grief slowly turned into anger. "Don't touch her!" He shouted at Agatha. "She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it."

Agatha looked hurt, and she cast her eyes on the ground faintly. "I didn't,"

Yet her words fell on deaf ears as the boy was too focused on the dead coven member to even spare her a glance.

Seeing the looks from the other coven members and considering all the emotions running through her heart and mind... Agatha chose to leave first, needing a moment alone to control herself.

She had shown too many emotions with her mother's ghost, and she needed to mask it, to mask her weakness and not let the sudden change of Teen's attitude towards her affect her at all.

While she was out, Teen looked with desperation at the other witches until his eyes fell on you.

"Please, Y/N!" He begged, eyes glowing misty. Alice had been from the few good witches to him, and she did not deserve to die, not like this. "You saved me. Save her, too!"

Your heart ached at his desperation, but even you knew there was a limit to the miracles you could pull.

"I am sorry... this is beyond my magic, " you explained softly, glancing at Rio, who nodded her head in approval; a silent signal that Alice was beyond saving.

You looked back at Teen, who eventually let defeat and grief settle in; along with anger. Furious, he marched towards the exit, and it did not take long for Jen and Lilia to follow.

They left you behind with Rio, and you knew you had to leave as well. But first, you had to pay your respects to the witch; who should not have died.

You knelt by her body and gently closed her eyes, whispering a faint prayer as a sign of respect. There was no need to pray for her soul, for she would be collected any moment now.

Yet even then, after you finished everything, you did not move. Somehow, you did not wish to let Alice soul be taken; leave her all alone to realize she had died... just after she had broken that damn generational curse.

Rio remained standing close by, patiently waiting for you to get up. "It is done. She is beyond saving, " she reminded you, sensing your hesitation.

"I know," you replied dryly, no need for any reminders.

You knew damn well she was beyond saving. That did not make it any easier for you to just leave her behind.

Rio let a small silent sigh, her face softening. "Timor Mortis Morte Pejor," she spoke in Latin.

Those four words were familiar to you, not only cause you had mastered the language centuries ago and spoke it fluently... but because they had been told to you before.

"Fear of death is worse than death," you translated, and as you leaned back on the balls of your feet, you could not help but remember.

Remember the first time you heard those words... the first time you felt the blood of someone on your hands... the first time you met Rio...

The beginning of your complicated relationship.

Chapter 29

[altocat]

Srry if this is weird but do you think Sephiroth has a praise kink?

......hokay let's do this lol

Yes. Very much so.

Sephiroth has lived a life more than often being degraded and dehumanized, praised only when he physically contributes to violence or sliding things in Shinra's favor. And even then, it's all hollow. Meaningless. He gets no actual satisfaction from it. It's just empty words.

So imagine his shock when his partner praises him in a moment of intimacy, calling him good, telling him how beautiful and wonderful and amazing he is. And not because he had to kill someone. Not even because he's the best in bed--Sephiroth was an inexperience turbo virgin at the beginning of this. But because they see something of value in him as a person, a man. They see him as something desirable, pure and perfect just as he is. Worthy. HUMAN.

Sephiroth melts. He has to hear that again. It makes him shiver, ignites him in all the best ways. He has to hear it. He has to earn it. He WANTS to. So, so badly.

It's his desire and understanding for that feeling that influences his treatment of Cloud later on. He knows Cloud craves it too. And he will praise and love bomb the shit out of Cloud's mind controlled mind to get what he wants.

[keikakudori]

              HOW MANY TIMES OVER THE YEARS HAD AIZEN ALLOWED THE KIDO TO PLAY ITS POWER OVER GIN, choosing to end some evenings when his partner was ill and being a particular brat by using the influence of that particular one to send him into rest? Too many times to count, really; there had been days when the younger man would refuse the care and doting that surfaced in him, echoes of a boy who had been unable to do anything for his mother spending time and effort and will dealing with someone who was utterly stubborn about refusing the care that was needed. There were wounds in him that had healed crooked, that would never be unknit without a truly tremendous force to override what had come before and not even this new sweeping expanse of a pinnacle in his power and strength had been enough to overcome such wounds and scars. The snarl was met with a pool of brown that was world-weary, a sorrow and new depth of understanding of things in evidence -- and with the eye that had been stained evermore by that day into a depth of silver against amethyst. He was raw, stripped of illusion and hubris, but no less himself. Perhaps, instead, he was more himself than he had ever been at any time past -- or at least far more himself than he had been for the last two years. Now he was exposed beneath the live-wire of those blue eyes that had become able to cut through every layer and every illusion, aware of how exposed he was to him now..

              ❝ Fair is fair, Gin, ❞ came the soft murmur of his words to ease the younger man down into his slumber, the honeyed tone of that rich bass seeking to chase the viper down into unconsciousness that awaited him. ❝ Sleep. ❞ It was not the first time that Aizen had ever said that in reply to the younger man when using what Gin named one of his own tricks and he hoped that it would not be the last time either. Of course, the viper might decide to throw a punch at him later for doing this. But Aizen would accept any punches hurled at him by his partner in crime, especially since he knew he deserved that and worse.

              Yet how easily he slipped beneath the blankets, the fire flaring a little with a touch of his power to ensure that it would remain warm throughout the night and be unlikely to go out; coals were fine but rebuilding a fire that had gone out was annoying even, even with kido and such abilities at play. Despite the exhaustion that burrowed throughout his body, Aizen was not able to find his own sleep immediately. No, his own mind was a turbulent mess, cascading through the shock of revelation that had hammered at him without his having a few moments of respite. The knowledge that Gin had not only survived but was here had been the largest shock of them all, something that he had not truly stopped reeling from until now, it felt. Even with everything that had happened, it all felt a fever dream, a heated rush of knowledge that had only finally begun to settle the way mud or silt stirred up in water took time to settle back into place before those waters could become clear again. Then the first death since their reunion, Gin cutting his head off, himself still trapped in the cage, Gin being wounded, Gin being killed, droplets of his blood arcing in a fluid drapery in the air as they prescribed a comma with a long tail ---

              A shudder shook his body at that memory, something that saw those limbs tighten gently around the svelte figure that meant so much to him. Bastard that he was, Aizen could only greedily drink in the contact now as his mind decided to pipe up, a demented little whisper in the back of his head that said how well he knew Gin could remain asleep, especially with Hakufuku. Punching his own brain was impossible, but he chased down a few pleasant seconds of reverie by imagining himself strangling that voice in particular at this point in time with a hint of a smile upon his face even as his eyes closed and he relaxed with a low sigh of sound -- or perhaps it was better to say he mostly relaxed, a contrast to what that brief whisper of an almost forgotten hunger echoing somewhere in the depths of mind and body alike.

              But he was not able to slumber as of yet as his arms cradled Gin close, face tucked in against his throat the way that they would often lay together in first his quarters at the Fifth's barracks and then furthermore those shared nights in the chambers which belonged to them both, and he found himself thinking even as his eyelids drooped shut. It might have been called overthinking and it would not be entirely incorrect to make such a statement. His mind was not able to stop working despite the exhaustion that weighed his bones down like a coating of lead, not able to stop from turning everything that had unfolded in the last -- what was it? Two days? Three? He had lost track of time --- over and over on themselves even as power hummed beneath his skin. It was as if something vastly misaligned had suddenly somehow been set to its proper place within his body -- perhaps in his very soul. He could never go back from this point, he knew.

              The power, now that he had touched it, was always going to be there with him. A stark difference underlined the differences of the last few days and the prior events of his own life, though -- this time, Aizen did not shy away from the power that he bore the way he had used to, the way he had turned himself away from the lion's share of what he contained The air was warm, not just from the fire, but from what rolled off of him in gentle waves that wrapped around the unconscious silver-haired man in a cocoon of protective weave, his senses racing outwards. Nothing would be able to cross that subconscious perimeter that would not immediately have him on alert. For now, the worlds were held together by the presence of the thing that he understood on a level deeper than thought. It was etched into his bones, aware of it just as he was of the malign star upon the horizon that was the presence which marked Yhwach's own power and presence alike.

              This was the heritage he had never asked for.

              A heritage that had destroyed the life of the only woman he had ever truly loved and had slowly twisted through him, growing, thriving as it ever had and not something he had thought of. He did not know of what Kyoka Suigetsu had done when Aizen Sousuke had been driven to break the chains of his own self-restraint and to embrace the full depths of the power that he was endowed with when Gin had witnessed her. Aizen had allowed Gin to behold that inner world more than once and she had always been a delighted hostess, elegant and graceful, her smile calling to mind legends of fox-faced women. Obviously, Aizen had been influenced well before Gin had ever come into his life, for she had been formed long ago and had guided him along to understanding her. He was not aware of the gratitude that she had displayed in response for the fact that he had, at last, finally stepped into the fullness of his power. Always and ever from the moments of their first meeting had Ichimaru Gin become a catalyst for Aizen Sousuke and his evolution. First had come that monstrous Hollow at the height of the events within Karakura Town, where Aizen had been felled by the divine spear that had cut through his body and destroyed his heart.

              And now his bloodline had awakened within him, quickened, and he was nothing more than the product of that heritage in a true sense of the word -- but he was also what that heritage had always been meant to become, perhaps. Just as Yhwach's abilities had returned in full to him, so did the Shinigami parallel him with the refulgence of his abilities having surged to the forefront. It was not the events of the past day and a half that Aizen dreamt of, however; it was of a memory of an event that had come to him well over a hundred years ago, long before he had ever met the viper that his weary arms held against himself now, unknowing of the turmoil that Gin's soul was undergoing, of the discussion about redemption and forgiveness. His mind sank back to what had been a dream that had surged through him following the one time before these recent catastrophic events when he had nearly unlocked the power of his Bankai before. When he had laid fingers upon the golden thread that danced within the depths of his soul.

              It had been mere chance, him slipping without thought to the depths of his own soul and beholding what laid beneath the waters where the moon shone bright and the night sky above was speckled with stars, where the flowers glowed with fireflies dancing across the lotus blossoms that floated upon the water, a mirroring of the moonless skies above. Down below the water he had sunk, guided by his own meditation and feeling out something he had never noticed before, something that stirred the depths of his soul and a brightness that dwelt below, pulsing, brilliant, blinding as he drew closer and closer to it. It was like how they described the stars in this modern age; not just pinpricks of light, but giant gaseous balls of flame held condensed by their own gravity. He had shrunk away from it, fearful, even as he was drawn towards it. It was laced over with dark chains, so many that only thin shafts of light spilled out from between the links that held back so much of that power that he knew was his own He was already immensely strong, enough that he tried to conceal it, aware of how much it would only isolate him and make others fearful of him if he were to show it off.

              Yet, for one moment, his hand had found a spot between those chains, drawn to touch without conscious thought and drawn close without his being aware of it, as if hypnotized to come closer. He had reached out and only one fingertip had brushed against that star's heart. The heat should have left him ashes, the density of power should have crushed him beneath its gravitational pull. But no - this was his own power, more than he would ever need, more than he ever wanted to know he possessed, at his fingertips.

              He had never wished for power like this. It had been his nascent power that had ruined the life of his mother and seen her withering away. It had been that power which had seen Hollow pursuing him when he had been but a boy, intent upon devouring him and instead taking the opportunity to devour those lesser souls who were ever kind enough to take him in. It had been because of power he had been isolated and it was power that he shunned and wished desperately to be parted from. But one fingertip found the boiling surface of this star and touched across it ----

              A flash. A room draped with dark curtains that hung from a circular dais mirrored by heavy architecture above in circumference. There was a power here and he was staring at a large block of blue crystal that bore a shadowy figure within it. Aizen Sousuke found cold sweat breaking across his back as he realized with a gutted sort of awe where he stood as more features resolved. A body, limbless, but for vague indentations where arms had been, where the legs had been hacked off above the knee. A face that was flawless and perfect, eyes that were open and -- and--- AND IT WAS LOOKING AT HIM. For one long, silent moment in which all of creation seemed to pause, his eyes met the strange ones of the entity that was known as the Soul King AND AIZEN SOUSUKE WAS LEFT FOREVER CHANGED BY THAT SIMPLE ACT. Here, in the presence of this being, he was left suddenly aware of his own body, of the power that waited to be called forth if he but attempted to use it in the way it was meant to be. He was suddenly aware that there was something that tied him to this -- THING.

              Cells bloomed suddenly with a new awareness and he found his legs trembling, lips parted, awareness suddenly spilling out from him in a cosmic web of possibilities as his mind raced down pathways that had never before been opened. Images were a blur, impressions of moments, of physical sensations that cut across his mind, flashes of moments that suddenly bloomed here and there into random coherency. He was suspended within a void and watching as this being stepped forth and spun the worlds into creation. It was with a resounding cascade of noise throughout the universe, three worlds spun into life and a fourth by design, a realm for the truly wicked to progress towards when the time came for them to perish. Stars burst into life and he was but one small figure in the vastness of the cosmos and once again, those eyes were turning towards him and a hand reached out. Despite himself, Aizen found his own hand lifting and reaching out as if to connect in the way that a plant would reach towards the heat of the sun itself ----

              And then he understood without knowing how he understood and rage ripped through him.

              ❝ -- you, ❞ he breathed, fury rising hot and fast within his breast. ❝ It's you--. I had never thought, never even guessed at who could have -- and now I know. I know it's your fault. It's because of you that she's gone. It's because of you that things are -- so wretched! Do you even care about us?! Do you feel anything at all for us?! I know you never cared about her so I won't ask you about that - but what of those of us who lived in the Rukongai?! What could you ever say for yourself! ❞

              There was, however, no answer. He doubted there would ever be one. Those strange, alien eyes continued to regard him even as that hand stretched out towards him. Was it benediction? Warning? Was it an offer to give him more than this? Aizen could not have said and he didn't

              ❝ You're the reason for all of it, aren't you?! You're the one responsible for my own And now you reach out to me?! Never-- I could never belong to something as uncaring and unfeeling as you are. Whatever you are -- you don't understand anything about those of us who live here! You took her from me! It was your fault! Whatever it was, it remains your fault! Because of you, I cursed her before I was ever born and because of you, she died when she didn't have to! I lost her because of you! I lost her because of what I am! A monster, just like you! ❞

              Words that made logic in the nearly forgotten piece of himself that would ever remain that boy that had watched in mute silence as his mother's body was wrapped in winding cloth of white in the wake of her passing, one of her combs clutched between his small hands. He had not wept then as she was laid in her final resting place. That comb had been one of her favorites -- and one of his. A beautiful piece of lacquered hardwood, painted with greens and golds, with mother-of-pearl songbirds nested in a group of leaves with golden berries picked out amongst the jade foliage. His aunties had been kind even as they'd descended upon her belongings to divide them up between themselves. He remembered his favorite one, the one who had snuck him sweets from the kitchens, had been the one to take it. Aizen had wanted to kill them all. That comb and those clothes had belonged to his mother. No, the owner of the brothel said, they belonged to him because her contract had been owned by him. And then he had thrown Aizen out.

              He had not wept for her. He had always hated himself for that moment, of being unable to cry for his mother's loss. The tears did come, eventually -- but not for years upon years and his shame at them when they had come had made him never want to weep again. But he had wept more than once in his life ---- and he had wept TEARS OF GOLD over Ichimaru Gin. But in those moments, with her wrapped in her shroud and being carried to the unmarked grave that a prostitute would be granted out there in the Rukongai. He had tried to remember where it was when he'd gone back, years later, had tried to know which of those sad little hints of raised earth had been hers. But his memory had failed him and he'd never known which one it had been. He had always hated himself for that too. A child should remember where their mother was buried, after all. He had never invited Gin out there with him though he would make brief, occasional forays out into that district, trying to piece together the location from foggy memory. Maybe he would change that, now. It had been too intensely personal back then. Just as Gin's own secret had been intensely personal. When this was over, when they were left to take their peace---...

              Silence continued to hover and then there was a flicker of something else that made his head turn as a motion at the corner of his eye drew his attention, Aizen beholding a man he did not recognize, a man with a prominent nose and a mustache that flowed across his cheeks in wings of black, with red eyes that met his own depths of brown. In that moment, there was a sense of recognition that seemed to blaze between them both. They were, the two of them, tied together in some way; they were both of them tied to the Soul King, a tether of blood that bounded between their forms. Three worlds. Three points to a triangle. This man represented one point and Aizen the other; they were divergent too in their own powers for Aizen's power was innately born and this man's was parasitical and that too was representation of their diverging paths. The Soul King was the third point. He understood that too as they stood equidistant from one another in that strange, colorless place that seemed washed through with static and whiteness that overwhelmed. Still, this man that Aizen met at a glance was somehow familiar, familiar on a level which was not to do with what they were but something further than that, deeper than that, a familiarity that was a reflection of their disparate origins.

              Brotherhood was not something they pursued, however - neither of them wanted it. They both understood that when their eyes met in this vision. In the true world, Aizen would turn him down with a quiet sneer decades later in the dark.

              Then the vision was shattering and the young Shinigami was suddenly coming back to his body, falling out of Jinzen so fast he nearly plummeted off of the rock he was seated upon and onto his very face as he shook with the exhaustion that came with barely touching upon his Bankai. It was the closest that he had ever come to it before the events of this war that saw the Quincy rising from their graves in an effort to follow their leader, their figurehead, their King of the Quincy. What had begun on that cool spring afternoon when he had sat in Jinzen and had descended more deeply into his own soul than he ever had before had been fulfilled now, when red had flashed through the air. He had thought, in Muken, that the vision that had come to him of Gin falling, bleeding, had been from that one singular moment during what had occurred in Karakura Town, in that alleyway. He had not realized the vision had involved him, back then, until after the fact. He had put those things out of mind.

              But no, even that vision that had made no sense back then had been fulfilled, now; whether it was divine premonition or it had been one of the few articles of power from the barest touch of his Bankai's power to him, a singular dewdrop imparted to a man plagued by thirst, he would never be able to say. He had seen Gin falling, blood fountaining into the air, and it had been enough to play the tumblers on those locks and then suddenly see that power being seized in his hands at last as Aizen had consumed that star in full beyond taking the merest sip of the sun's power as he had for so long within his life. How he had not feared it -- until it had come time to use it. To use his power in the most selfless act that he could ever do, to give everything he was and everything that he could become in the name of saving the only person who had ever matched him, the only person who could ever count as the other piece of his soul. And even then, the fear had not been the fear of that power -- it had been fear of it overwhelming himself and running out of his control.

              Still, he had chosen to persevere despite that fear and step forward into the realm of a power that had been something that had ever been a source of revilement for him before, a notion that probably would have been at odds with what others believed of him, if they thought he was naught more than a power hungry despot aiming at the Soul King's domain for his personal gain. More fools they. For Aizen, he had not hesitated at all in his readiness to use that power for the sake of this man that he cared for. Perhaps the traitor should have been used to the way his relationship with Gin evolved over the years but he doubted tha that he ever would be. And there was a peacefulnes that came with that. Aizen would rather have Gin at his side and enjoy the chaos that came with it than remain alone, suspended forever in a singular spot and ignoring the world as it passed him by, a swirling river of light and noise tha would never encroach upon his soul-deep pain and solitude.

              His dreams had him twitching, from time to time, curling tighter about Gin's body with his own, his legs tangling with Gin's even in their sleep. Comfort came from the fact that they were together, but emotional exhaustion had him feeling the depths of his own weariness. Of course, they were both suffering from similar exhaustion. Gin's came from a secret unearthed after a hundred years by the man who had been the instigator of such pain and Aizen's own came from a constant turbulence that had disrupted and shredded his otherwise inert placement in the world itself before there was the sudden return of Gin into his life, of being killed more than once, of discovering his Bankai and the power contained therein---… everything was strange now. Everything was different.

              Everything since he had come to awareness and seen Shunsui standing there, beckoning in Gin, had been so much. Only now, during sleep, did he begin to have a hope of processing anything that had come before -- processing the fact that Gin was alive. That he was here in his arms. That he had achieved Bankai at last all in the name of saving this man that he had damaged. There was also the moment of processing the knowledge that had spilled out of Gin, information that was not exactly something that Aizen could own but something that he could not deny - nor would he ever deny them again. Gin had been correct to call him out and he was left changed by this as much as he was changed by Gin's revival back into his life. He was changed by his own Bankai and his acceptance of the power that now echoed through him and showed itself in the simple weight of the air itself. He was changed and he would always remain changed from all of this - he would never be the man he was before and that knowledge did not pain him nor upset him. It was for the best. After all, the man he had been before had been something of a real asshole --- as he was sure Gin would say.

              This was for the best.

              Yet what had him waking suddenly, lifting himself upwards, was the sudden feeling that cascaded over him and left him gasping quietly. Gin's own awakening had him moving a hand towards Gin, unhesitating, fingers touching down upon the pale strands of hair without thought as if to soothe the younger man back into the depths of slumber. Weariness still hammered away at his body, but less so than before. Whatever he had dreamed, Aizen could not recall beyond a vague sense that something of monumental importance had been shifted into place while he had rested, something that saw him stroking that hand through Gin's hair. Somewhere within himself, he had acknowledged that he would never allow anything to happen to him again. He'd surrender his own body first, his own immortality, his own life, before he ever permitted Gin to fall once more. Between them both, he was the one that Aizen would always choose to live, to survive.

              For all of that sentiment, something about the way the air hummed and twitched against his skin had Aizen wanting to bare his teeth at nothing in particular. His reiatsu slivered into the air, a vibrato of a deep bass note that hung like a bell's peal, going on and on, hanging in the air like a sustained note of musical origin -- no, not a bell but an organ's groaning sustained press of a key, rippling with brassy richness of massive pipes. It played through the air as he moved, as if a shadow of his power clung to him in a phantom echo of his movements for but a second or two. Then it was fading away once more and he closed his eyes. Two individuals, perhaps three kilometers out, touching the first of those far-flung barriers -- unfolded even while he'd slept, natural instincts that had been absent for TWO YEARS due to his being entrapped within Muken; barriers to keep himself and Gin safe, barriers crafted to keep out even the strongest of his Espada --- yet those strongest had ever had certain permissions to enter, sometimes.

              Yet the Quincy did not. His head tilted and he brought his hand up towards his own face, the side of his finger touching to his own mouth for a second before he murmured quietly. ❝ --- two Quincy, both at least three kilometers out and away from here. There is plenty of distance that they'd need to cover to find this place and my veils will keep us concealed, but I'm certain there's a reason why they would be out here at all. Probably best if we were to take care of them both sooner rather than later. ❞ Doubtless, they were searching for the two traitors in hopes of accomplishing something. Of course, he'd need to be creative. He had a few suspicions about Yhwach that he didn't want to voice as of yet, but the memory of the vision he'd seen so long ago was lingering in the back of his head. He had willfully forgotten about it years ago, not wanting to entertain the notion that he was somehow different and apart back then. And now it turned out he always had been.

              Then, slowly, that visible brown eye edged towards Gin and Aizen offered a ghost of that old smirk as his fingertip touched to his lips for a few seconds longer, almost provocative, nearly flirtatious in how he regarded the younger man at his side and he lowered his hand slowly and down to his lap. ❝ … what would you say to the idea of a hunt, Gin? It's been so long since we've gone on a hunt at all with the freedom to do as we please. If you're feeling up for it, that is. I do understand things have been strenuous lately, but … ❞ How he left the invitation hanging open and allowed the one he named his viper to decide on whether or not he wanted to pursue the idea of a hunt -- but Aizen would be fine enough if the younger man decided to opt for the idea of a mere snipe instead. It wouldn't be the first time that he had aimed those shots and it wouldn't be the last time, Aizen was sure. Gin had fine senses, but given that Aizen had built those barriers, his understanding of where the two intruders were was even keener than the younger man's might be.

              But oh, it was many more things than just an idle suggestion of something like a hunt. It was a tentative olive branch and a subtle flirt, something that he offered almost shyly. Two years had been a long, long time -- and Aizen was suddenly and acutely aware of the nearness they shared, of how the air was warm from their shared body heat, of how near Gin as to him. It had his heart thumping a few harder beats in his chest, a warmth touching the pit of his stomach. It was such a silly offer but it was equally made in earnestness, in a quiet sort of hope that Gin would agree to the idea of going and having some simple fun, as if to get their feet beneath them both now. Aizen needed a little bit of a test run with this change in his power, he knew, and he was certain that Gin wouldn't mind too terribly, of course.

THE FAMILIAR SENSATION OF HAKUFUKU WAS DIFFICULT TO MISS, even amid his raging emotions and utter collapse inward. Gin detected that telltale bloom of blurred snow drifting down from the ceiling, hollowing out the cabin’s innards, blackness searing onto the edges of his vision. Hazy, he remembered gripping at Aizen’s front with rage and grief both still brewed potently inside of himself, a hunch of his shoulders as though contemplating one last vicious lashing of a felled predator. He was wounded, and being smothered – smothered enough that he jolted, briefly, in an instinctive recoil. A rejection. And in that rejection, those haze-filled eyes pierced into Aizen’s, his expression a snarl.

❝ That trick’s mine, you ass – ❞ More of a slurred growl than an actual curse and loathsome reaction to feeling the surge of slumber gripping at his awareness. The more Gin fought it, the taller the wave brimmed on the horizon. Eventually, as all things with him seemed to be doing as of late, it crashed down.

The snowfall continued lazily, absorbing the cabin into its whimsical winds. Out and beyond the frozen lake that took form within the great expanse of Gin’s inner mind stretched into view. The little shack was stable, albeit fragile, with roof panels disheveled upon its ragged top. They’d need fixing again. Something around here always needed fixing.

❝ I’ll become a Shinigami to fix things – ❞ an echo whispered, childlike in its hope, yet matured by the specks of blood that tainted that little pipe dream. There was no grand serpent here amongst the mountainous horizons to greet Gin – no, only himself, a boy, shrouded by blackened night draped over his too-small shoulders. Shinso did not always adorn himself with such theatrics, though Gin surmised the spirit was likely feeling a little… raw, just as he was. Scraped free of its scales, the hide of the beast hid within itself the anger of a boy who had only barely understood the gravity of a crime he briefly observed, peering down from the dirt pathway above.

❝ At least, that’s what I thought I’d do. But I didn’t. You didn’t. ❞ his voice was eerie, lacking the dialect his silver tongue typically wove its words with, a low hissed tone slithered its way between the breaths that puffed out from his smiling little mouth – the implication that at any moment the monstrous force of Kamishini No Yari could bring forth its forked tongue from his lips. Until then, vibrant eyes gazed up. There was raw emotion, but there was primarily… scrutiny.

❝ It’s been… decades, now, hasn’t it? A hundred years. She doesn’t know. You made sure she doesn’t know you haven’t fixed it. Seeing as you’re so… comfortable with him, now, letting him hold you like that… why not just move on? Why, you’re on the road to forgiveness at this rate. ❞ A slicing little smile reached practically ear-to-ear, devoid of any true reason to smile.

Gin received that smile akin to a spit in his face. The words were equally so vile. They were abhorrent. He knew the feeling well – this particular flavor of self-disgust.

❝ Move on from it? From what he did? That’s not my choice. It ain’t my trauma to bury, here – ❞ He edged towards reprimanding, an authority that matched Shinso’s hissing undertones; don’t challenge me.

❝ Then why carry it, why hold onto it all this time? ❞

The challenge was, apparently, unavoidable.

❝ She doesn’t remember what happened, she doesn’t know what was taken. If she knew, she wouldn’t try so hard to hide her failin’s behind th’ mask of alcohol ‘n laziness to excuse her lack of strength as a lack of drive. She wouldn’t keep everybody at a distance, she wouldn’t act like everythin’ was fine. ❞ Shallowly assessing the depths of what was done to his childhood friend felt criminal, but Gin supposed there was enough blood under his fingernails to excuse the cruel brevity for now. He was speaking to the only other person who knew that there was more than what was spoken, after all.

❝ You remember what happened, you know what was taken – and yet you still hide behind a mask, don’t you? You excuse your deeds as a necessity. You keep everyone at a distance. You act like everything’s fine. ❞ The child’s voice was low and methodical. A surgeon’s precision. Ill-fitting for the guise of a lanky young boy.

❝ Rangiku ain’t ever in a position where tellin’ the truth about herself could get her or her loved ones killed. ❞ Gin’s quip was equally precise, a reminder; I don’t have the luxury of drinking my nightmares away.

❝ Aizen Sousuke didn’t kill you. No, he might have tried, that day, but so did you. And in the end, when you were eventually killed and not by his own hand, he still brought you back to life. ❞

The child was unmoving, save for that wicked mouth. Gin narrowed his eyes, pacing to the side. The snowfall crunched beneath his steps, though he didn’t need to trudge through the accumulation quite yet. ❝ It almost sounds like you’re arguin’ in favor of Aizen. Where’d all that… divine righteousness of yours go, hm? ❞

❝ Forgiveness can be a righteous act. ❞ A calculated reply. The serpent was rather set on the matter. Gin bristled. Shinso remained steadfast, wearing his own skin, smiling.

❝ Do you forgive Aizen Sousuke for what he did to her, to all of those people? ❞ Now, Gin felt a sliding knife of betrayal place itself against his back. Not quite delving into his skin, but the prickling sense of the threat was there. His blade, his weapon, his one true reliable entity… was Shinso doubting him?

❝ Do you? Can you? Will you? ❞ The child watched, waiting, assessing Gin the same way Gin now sought to assess him.

❝ I ain’t one of his victims, I don’t get to decide whether or not he’s redeemed himself for what he’s done. I don’t get to decide that I’m done, that I wanna jus’… forget. ❞ The scrutiny Shinso gazed at him with seemed to intensify, and the winds of doubt ripped with more force against his frame.

❝ I can’t imagine Rangiku could hold the grudge that you have for over a century. ❞

❝ If you wanna plead with me to forgive him, then you gotta at least tell me why you’ve changed your tune. You wanted to eat his heart. ❞ Gin spoke slowly, measured, obscuring the tremor of emotions which still ran too high for his comfort. Too intense for his head to not pound, his ears ringing with the song of his heartbeat lodged somewhere in his throat.

❝ I only ever wanted what you wanted. ❞ The sincerity Shinso spoke with burned Gin. He returned the favor, almost akin to a plea for a ceasefire.

❝ I don’t want to forgive him. ❞ A tired confession, a hollow one.

❝ I think you do, you just don’t realize it. You want it over and done with. You want to wash your hands of it all. ❞ Shinso’s words felt… wrong.

❝ I can’t forgive him, it’ll never be over, and I’ll always have stained hands. ❞ Finality rang out and Gin despaired over the verdict he issued himself. This despair was something familiar to him, something he accepted long ago – it presented itself as an old ache, something belonging to a scar that sometimes grew sore or tight after already healing over.

❝ Can’t, or won’t? You won’t let yourself even try. ❞

❝ Do you think those men let Rangiku try to run away from'em before chasin’ her down? ❞ Gin snapped, a whirlwind of heavier snow swirled, the billowing bite of cold at their cheeks.

❝ That happened when she was a little girl, she’s a grown woman now, do you honestly think it needs to be held for this long – especially now, now that you’ve opened his eyes to it? Now that you can finally speak about it? ❞

❝ Would you tell that lil girl to swallow those negative feelin’s she’s havin’ – jus’ like you’re tellin’ me – because too much time’s passed 'n she needs to move on? I held a mangled girl’s soul in my hand, the one he ripped outta her. I had it, I had it. I can’t let it go. ❞

❝ Why hold on!? Why grit your teeth, the prey’s lost, you need to move on! ❞

In a blur, the naked blade of a wakizashi unearthed itself from the draped sleeve of Gin’s right arm. He struck the boy at his left, severing the limb in a clean cutting instant. The boy did not jolt nor did he wince, though his eyes veered toward a sort of mixture between confusion and hurt – a wound not of flesh, but of the soul. And Gin, with all of his snarling, did not restrain himself from spitting venom at the veiled serpent’s bloodied body still standing so small, there, before him.

❝ – move on from that. ❞ Another mutilating strike to the other side, lopping flesh from forearm and wrist, a hand dropping into fresh snow at their feet. The red bloomed outwards, a poison. ❝ Forgive that,❞ The blade plunged into the boy’s chest, twisting. ❝ – don’t hate that it happened. Don’t loathe th’ pain, the loss.❞ Gin yanked the blade free and swept the following ribbon of blood outwards in an arching strike away from himself. The billowing robes of white remained pristine, but the snow around them was bloodied. The boy was mauled, spurting, dripping crimson from that ever-smiling mouth. ❝ Is that what you want me to tell myself? ❞

❝ Forgiveness has to be earned, but yes. ❞ Bloody lips still spoke, though a shuddered heave hitched itself, wet, inside the boy’s throat.

❝ And he HASN’T EARNED IT! He won’t ever earn it. And neither will I! ❞ The winds howled but Gin’s rarely raised voice still carried past the tormented blizzarding air.

❝ Didn’t you just say you couldn’t decide whether or not he has redeemed himself… ❞

❝ Redemption 'n forgiveness ain’t the same. He might’ve redeemed himself, but he’ll never be forgiven. He’ll need to crawl on his hands'n knees in front of her, confessin’ everythin’… he’ll need to beg, he’ll need to unmake every piece of that rotten thing before I even consider that an option. ❞

❝ It seems we’ve found where my righteousness went. ❞

❝ It seems that, given your weak-willed backtrackin’… maybe I should’ve accepted Hollowfication. Maybe then you would’ve been good enough to defeat'im. ❞ Spiteful words spoken, ones that Gin internally recoiled back from after they left his mouth. Or maybe that was an indiscernible flinch from Shinso that he felt.

❝ Being stubborn is not synonymous with being right about something, Ichimaru-sama. ❞ A sadness, an exasperated tone. Gin was speaking to a child and yet he was not the elder here – the serpentine spirit was, and he was the boy. The boy he mutilated, the boy he left a crippled mess, a heap of bloodied questions; why, why, why, why –

❝ This was never about what’s right 'n what’s wrong. ❞ Tiredness exuded from him and Gin looked away, looked into the biting winds and shut his eyes to let the cold sink its teeth into him.

❝ Of course. It’s about… – ❞

The dream faded to the tip of Gin’s mind as it groggily emerged into wakefulness, a slow blink of his eyes hazily clearing the fog. Hakufuku draped over his senses like a warm and heavy blanket. Gin needed a minute to gather himself, the thickness in his throat residual from his dreamstate’s heightened emotions. Or perhaps he was sore from sobbing – either way, he swallowed and shifted. The bed was warm, and for a brief flickering moment the world seemed warless. Gin felt transported back to a time when waking to find himself accompanied in bed was normalcy.

It was only when Aizen’s body shot upright that Gin became aware of the fact that he’d been embraced by the older man whilst asleep. In the absence, he felt a chill roll its way toward his shoulders. But he could not dissect his current emotional stance on the act of cuddling – whatever stirred Aizen into that look of concern and alertness was enough to bring Gin to a sluggish ascension, too.

❝ Somethin’ comin’? ❞ It’d not surprise the Shinigami, at least. Aizen’s time spent in recovery also allowed their enemies time to recover and regroup, too. Out beyond their barriered-off safehouse were two scouting Quincy, set forth to seek the special threat of Aizen Sousuke. Scouting out in hopes of serving their struck-down lord – and perhaps, soon, leading Yhwach to their doorstep.

[autumnmobile12]

You know, when you get right down to it, I think the biggest reason fans were unsatisfied with My Hero's finale was the fact Horikoshi just completely blindsided everyone with a sad ending.

The series had its sad moments, sure, but the overall atmosphere was upbeat and hopeful. Classic 'we can do this' shonen, you know? But he didn't build up to the sad ending, mainly because, and to put it bluntly, he didn't kill off enough relevant characters.

Overall, the deaths that do occur in the series are minimal (not counting flashback deaths like Nana Shimura and the Shimura family as those are backstories to the main plot) and most of them don't leave a huge impact. Character deaths sadden me as much as the next person, but there's a reason they happen in fiction.

My Hero Academia had a conflict that ultimately evolved from a small disgruntled faction challenging hero society to an entire army challenging hero society. It was a war. Wars are messy and difficult and traumatic. You expect to lose people in a war.

So to analyze the few deaths that happen through the series...

Magne: I've said in a previous post her death was basically there to show Overhaul's abilities and willingness to kill, and sadly, I think that's the only reason Horikoshi didn't include her among the arrested villains of the Summer Camp Arc. All the other LoV members had an establishing moment when they first appeared, something that made them memorable. Magne did not get that kind of impact and sadly remains to be the least memorable character in the LoV. How many LoV related posts/fanarts have you seen that leave her out?

Snatch: Horikoshi created this guy for the sole purpose of killing him off. He had no further purpose and even Dabi forgot who he was immediately after the fact.

Sir Nighteye: A sad death because we did get a whole arc where he was adjacent enough to Deku to have development, but was Nighteye's death necessary or there for shock value? I say shock value because outside of Mirio bringing him up now and then, he's barely mentioned after his death. His Quirk wasn't regarded as a huge loss and his death didn't effect the outcome of the war all that much.

Midnight: A little closer to home since she was a teacher to the main cast, but she didn't have many interactions with the students that wasn't purely a student-teacher dynamic. She was more than the 'sex appeal comedy' character in that she's shown to be legitimately intelligent and levelheaded, but there are no scenes where she talks one on one with Deku or his classmates and provide a more meaningful dynamic. If Horikoshi was going for something that would really hurt the fanbase, he'd have killed off Aizawa in the Jaku City battle. Aizawa was the only one of the UA teachers who had the screen time and character development to be the 'surrogate parent' character supporting the main cast, so his death in the series would have been devastating, especially since his Quirk plays a key role in all the major fights. No hate to Midnight, but the little amount of screen time she had and the lack of relationships she formed with the main cast did not trigger much of an emotional response for me.

Twice: Twice is the only character death I can think of that really meant something to the series. He had impact, he was memorable, the fans got attached to him, and the reason he died was valid. Hawks kills him to prevent him from overwhelming the hero's side with a one man army. That threw a major wrench in the LoV's plans. Not a debilitating one, but it was a hit to the team and to a small degree, even Hawks regretted having to kill him. This is how you do a meaningful character death.

So compare that with other series.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Shit, a lot of characters die in FMA, major and minor. Nobody is over Nina and Alexander. Nobody is over Hughes. Nina was a little girl with her life ahead of her, and Alexander was her beloved dog. Hughes had a family. They both had things to live for.

D. Gray Man: Not as many core cast members, but the side characters that do die are memorable and it's heartbreaking. Even if they're only there for a brief time, the impact is there. All Suman wanted was to see his daughter again, even if it meant becoming a traitor. Chronically overworked Tapp's dying words are to say he would take on all the overtime in the world if he could keep living. Alma finally got to rest in peace after being non-consensually resurrected in a cruel science experiment.

Black Butler: Not very many character deaths, but the few that have happened hit hard. Not naming any names because I know there are anime-only peeps out there, but to my fellow manga-readers, you know who i'm talking about.

With My Hero Academia, Twice died for his friends. We see how much he cared about them. What did Magne die for? Her cause, sure, but she's not in the series long enough to leave that lasting impression. What did Snatch, Sir Nighteye, and Midnight have to live for? They didn't talk about their ambitions, their dreams, their families, their plans for retirement, none of that came up, and so we as the audience don't get that heartbreaking moment of, "No, they didn't get to _____!" Sure, I guess we can say Nighteye doesn't get to see Mirio become the greatest hero, but that's a pretty standard dream across all the teacher/mentor dynamics with their protégés, so it's not unique. Fuck, even Endeavor has that ambition for Shouto. AFO has that ambition for Shigaraki. So Nighteye’s dream is not unique enough to be its own matter of significance.

...

I saw someone's assessment on how the finale was realistic, that a social change wasn't going to happen overnight. And that's true, we couldn't realistically expect a social change happening overnight, but when you pair that against the unrealistic outcome where no major character deaths happened on the protagonists' side of things, it's off-putting and it actually made the fate of the main villains unbalanced.

Realistically, yes, with what the LoV did (mass murder, inciting violent radicals, terrorism), that would warrant life in prison, a death sentence, etc. But in a fictional sense, since they didn't do anything extreme to the main cast, thus eliciting an emotional response from the audience, we don't really have the satisfaction of justice served in this circumstance.

Dabi's crimes are background information. He says himself in his broadcast that he's killed 'up to thirty innocent people.' That's not insignificant, but from an audience's perspective...who were those thirty and why do we care? There were those protesters publicly shaming Endeavor by asking if he'd seen the families of Dabi's victims on the news. That's fine and well, but we as the audience didn't see that. We do see him kill Snatch, but no one cares because of the above reasons. Everyone else Dabi kills onscreen are either the PLF or those anti-heteromorph cult guys, both of whom were people the audience weren't going to miss because they were fellow antagonists and bigots.

The problem with all of this is we were told about Dabi's crimes, not shown.

Personally, I'd have been more comfortable with Dabi's fate had he actually made good on his threats to throw his family's charred remains at Endeavor's feet or if he'd managed to kill some of Shouto's friends and mocked their deaths to his face. That is horrific and would have more closely warranted what he was dealt in the end. There's being furious and in pain over a traumatic childhood, and then there's committing atrocities against people who weren't the sole cause of that trauma. Which is what the 'thirty innocent people' were supposed to represent, but again, who were they and why do we care? Instead, what we're left with is 'Dabi is an angry, traumatized child trying to enact a social change.' Not for the noble reason of preventing his fate from happening to another child but out of hatred for his abuser, but a valid cause all the same, and he was disproportionately punished for it. (From a reader's perspective.)

...

It's the same with Toga. We're told right away at her first appearance she's a serial murderer, but again, she doesn't kill any of the main cast. She killed Curious, but no one really cared. I don't even think Curious' allies cared.

Look at it this way: Imagine if Rock Lock's character had been given more screen time, had been part of the series longer, and he was built up as the new father and family man and he's genuinely looking out for younger heroes instead of being a roundabout asshole about it, and then Toga kills him the Shie Hassaikai raid. That could have invoked Maes Hughes levels of outrage in the fanbase.

Or a bit closer to home , she could have killed Aizawa in the Shie Hassaikai raid right in front of sweet, little Deku’s innocent eyes. If she, like Dabi, actually took out main cast members, characters the audience were emotionally invested in, then her ending might have been more appropriate.

We loved Envy as a villain, but he also killed Hughes, another beloved character, so damn were we satisfied to see him go out the way he did.

Toga didn't do anything onscreen that was half as bad as what Envy did and yet she died for it. Offscreen technically.

...

Spinner might be the only one of the group whose fate fit the crime. His reasons were an echo of Stain, but advocating for a change to a flawed government system is a worthy cause.

Where he went wrong is it wasn't a cause worth killing for. The Commission and hero society would have to be much worse canonically for that to happen. Like blatantly totalitarian policies. The PLF was put down because they were enacting a violent uprising, not necessarily because of their views.

Example: Destro's book wasn't a banned text and people were free to read it. When Hawks gave it to Endeavor, he wasn't scolded for carrying a banned book around. If the government placed those kinds of restrictions (imprisoning anyone who published it, owned a copy, quoted its teachings, etc.), that would be the worrying signs of censorship.

News stations throughout the series freely criticize hero society. In a true fascist government, that wouldn't happen.

The video of Stain's last stand being deleted over and over could be considered censorship, but one could also argue it was deleted in the interest of not causing a panic rather than blocking his message from reaching the public.

Now I'm not ignoring Nagant's story where corrupt heroes were being quietly dealt with because that is some shady cover-up bs, but it's also a brief blip in the series and not explored all that much, which really more so highlights Horikoshi's inconsistencies in just how corrupt the Commission actually was. (I mean, maybe they really were chewing their nails nervously when they found out what Hawks was doing with the Destro books. "We can't kill him! You have any idea how expensive training another one would be?")

So no, while Spinner's cause was right, the way he tried to achieve it wasn't the answer. Nothing of what the Commission was canonically doing was worth the level of violence reached. If he was writing articles that outed problematic heroes and flaws in the system and then was shut down/imprisoned for that, then we can revisit the violent uprising because if you can't solve a solution with words because those words are being forcefully silenced, then you have no choice but to either accept it or resort to other methods.

And Spinner lives in the end. Probably in prison for the rest of his life, but he lives and his closing message to the series is, "We lost our war, but I will tell our story. We won't be forgotten."

Notice I said at the beginning of his how his 'fate' fit the crime. Imprisoned, he can no longer fight his war with violence. But he can still fight his war, and possibly still win, with words. Since we can see it available for purchase, his book is not a banned text even though he is a convicted criminal.

...

As much as I loved the character, I think Shigaraki dying was the only way his story could definitively end given the parameters set down by the canon finale. His life wasn't saved, but what kind of life could he realistically hope to have after everything he did? Would a life in prison be better than what he got?

We could go into the fact he could have been rehabilitated, but given how the world barely changes after the fact...rehabilitated to suit the flawed system still doesn't seem like a great outcome for him either.

...

Then we have the main cast just...carrying on? A bunch of people Quirkless, scarred, crippled, unable to use their Quirks the way they had before, and essentially gave everything they had for a world that...ultimately changed very little?

Was this really where it was all going?

So yeah, for all the hope and upbeat attitudes that prevailed through the bulk of the series, I don't think any of that correlates particularly well with the ending. We went from 'we can do this' and slammed into 'we are physically and psychologically scarred for the rest of our lives' brutally fast.

And then we're just hit with, "And that's how we became the world's greatest heroes." Against the overall sadness of the finale, that hopeful line is a tasteless cop-out.

[dr-spectre]

I need to talk about this moment from Shadow Generations because this broke me beyond comprehension in the best way possible.

(SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!)

Shadow smiling, like giving an actual genuine smile and not a cocky smirk, got to me. This mother fucker has been through hell, he was so down on himself on the ark because he was made to cure Maria yet he couldn't. G.U.N came in and killed someone he loved and it drove his creator mad, making him alter his memories so that they would wake up angry and bitter… and i bet it didn't even take that much manipulation to piss off Shadow either… just a few tweaks to his memory… Shadow then finally remembered Maria's true wish thanks to the help of a pink hedgehog. He had to face his prototype, a ghost from the past... Shadow briefly died after saving the world with the help of Sonic, he then contemplated if he was an android or not, finds out he is part alien, spends 06 trying to prove that's he's gotten over Maria and stop Satan himself, and then finally... he got to the chance to see his family one more time and....

I think this game fully cemented that Shadow is my favourite character in the entire Sonic series. He always allured me as a kid, with his black and red colour scheme, his demeanour, his voice, the way he skated around and the way his quills looked...

He smiles. He smiles because he gets to see Maria and tell directly to her face, "I'm gonna keep fighting for you. I'm gonna protect the world you love." And he finally got the closure that he needed BADLY!

In Shadow 05, he wanted to say goodbye to his past self because thinking about the past and Maria probably gave him so much grief and pain... But now? He changes his mind, he wants to fight for the good that Maria stood for, instead of saying "naw fuck her." While also acknowledging that he can be more than just Maria's wish and fulfil his endless potential as said by his creator/father Gerald. Plus, growth is not linear, seeing Maria and Gerald must have been seriously shocking to him and revert some of that growth from Shadow 05 and Sonic 06…

Shadow has always interested me and it wasn't until recently where I not only replayed Sonic Adventure 2 with a retranslated mod but also Heroes, 06 and Shadow Generations that I've come to truly love and respect this character.

Shadow is surprisingly so fucking well written and the way his story and arc were explored in Sonic Adventure 2 was insanely well done. Even the music was muffled and confusing, just like his memory and his anger. THE MUSIC REFLECTED WHAT HE WAS FEELING AND THINKING!!! THEY PUT IN THAT EXTRA EFFORT IN HIS FIRST APPEARANCE!!!

Not everything they've done with this character after Sonic Adventure 2 was perfect, but some of the stuff they did felt like they gave the character justice.

I am so proud of Sonic Team and what they've done for Shadow Generations. Good on you guys... you've made a game that has emotionally affected a lot of people. I'm proud of you...

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff, worried reader

Summary → You and Ned found out that Peter's Spider-Man, but also you're really worried.

You and Ned sat on the edge of Peter’s bed, glancing around his room while waiting for him to return. Aunt May had welcomed you both inside, as she always did, with her warm smile. Sometimes, you wished she were your aunt—she had a way of making you feel at home.

You and Ned finally decided to start building the Death Star while waiting for Peter to return from his internship. As much as you admired Iron Man—just like Peter did—you were starting to really dislike him. He always kept your Peter busy with that internship.

Suddenly, the window of Peter's bedroom opened, and you and Ned exchanged confused glances. Then, Spider-Man crawled through the window and began climbing on the ceiling. You watched in complete shock.

Spider-Man made his way along the ceiling towards Peter's door, shutting it slowly before landing gracefully on the floor without a sound.

When he removed his mask and turned around, you were met with a familiar pair of brown eyes. Your jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Ned and you on the bed.

Ned’s LEGO figure crashed on the floor in pieces with a loud sound.

“What was that?!” May yelled from the kitchen.

“Uh- it's nothing! Nothing!” Peter yelled back.

“You’re—you’re the Spider-Man, from YouTube,” Ned said. Peter pressed the spider emblem on his chest, causing the suit to loosen and fall at his feet.

“No, I’m not. I’m not.”

“You were on the ceiling!” Ned exclaimed, and you didn’t say anything, still in shock.

“No, I wasn’t, Ned! What are you guys doing in my room?” Peter said, panic evident in his voice.

“Well, May let us in. You said we were gonna build the Death Star.”

“You can’t just bust into my room!” Peter exclaimed.

Suddenly, May opened the door, waving a rug in front of her. “That turkey meatloaf recipe is a disaster. Okay, let's go out for dinner. Thai? You guys want Thai?”

Before Ned could reply, Peter quickly interjected, “He has thing... to do after, but Y/n’s coming.”

“Alright, and Peter, maybe put on some clothes. Y/n’s cheeks are looking like tomatoes,” May added with a grin before closing the door.

Peter immediately grabbed the closest thing and pulled it on, avoiding your wide-eyed stare.

A heavy silence hung in the room before Peter spoke, his voice laced with concern. “Y/n, baby, please say something. You're freaking me out.”

“I just… I can't believe it’s really you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to process everything.

He tugged on the hem of his sweatshirt, glancing down nervously. “It’s me. I swear, it’s really me.”

“I’m gonna let you two talk. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Ned said before grabbing his things.

“Bye, buddy,” Peter said, and you gave Ned a hug from where you were sitting.

“Bye, Ned.” The door closed behind Ned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. He could tell you had a million things on your mind at the moment.

You looked up at him, eyes filled with worry. “Peter, you could have been killed doing this.”

His expression softened as he crouched down in front of you, taking your hands gently in his. “Hey, look at me. I’m okay, alright? I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

You shook your head, tears starting to well up. “But what if something happens? What if one day you don’t come back?”

Peter quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Don’t think like that, babe. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you.”

You buried your face into his neck, letting a few tears slip out. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

He pulled back slightly, brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. “You won’t. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

You nodded, feeling slightly reassured by his words. “Okay.”

He leaned in and kissed you softy, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Peter,” you replied, your voice steadying as you looked into his familiar brown eyes.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[cryptid-killjoy]

She hadn't even realized she was digging her talons in the same placement as her own pain as she gripped. But Frank always matched her pain. Pain relief was for the weak minded to Delta because everyone was weaker than Frank. Delta was never into religion, but if she believed in anything anymore it was who suffered for her the most was the one she'd turn to. That was Frank. He embodied pain, not just his own, but all of hers.

The moment his fingers touched her, spread her, relief and more need became all the more urgent. She shimmied back pushing into those fingers. She liked the rough feeling of the stone wall in front of her and the high winds that breezed through her hair over the tower.

It was getting colder out and there was mist on the water. The cold was constrasting the heat building up inside her body. As Frank was pushing in she was moaning out too, didn't hold back despite guests, not that she thought she was being watched. It wasn't on her mind. She asked Frank to take her out of her mind and it already working. The feeling of his cock so close, all up against her as he did only drove more into madness. The sound of his voice, his real voice out loud - my. Even someone like Delta wasn't immune to such monikers. She'd never be anything but the double headed dragon. His acid girl.

Moreso she loved the way he groaned it out, hungry, possessive.

Arthur had just left Maddy. Time was ticking. He just came running up the stairs. He was in such a hurry he didn't hear the noises. There was nothing to give him a clue of what was happening. He walked right up there and landed at the top of the stairs when Frank had groaned out her name.

Arthur stepped up. For a moment Arthur couldn't move. Eyed bugged. It was by far the hottest thing he'd ever seen in all his life or death. Delta's face bore absolute pleasure in way he'd never known. From her make-up to her hair she was absolutely stunning. He didn't even have to see skin to think it. Then there was this stark dark reminder looming over her of exactly who she belonged causing that look on her face, and causing those sounds to come from her mouth, saying those words right out loud. His heart started to pound in his ghostly chest.

Then the moment it dawned on him under normal circumstances Frank would want to kill him if he weren't already dead and that frozen feeling wobbled. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity Oodalalee-Fucking-A. Then he managed to move his feet and turned fast and hid back at the curve of the stairwell. It took his body a moment to catch up that he was somewhere he didn't belong he was so shocked. He made the move so clumsy fast his damn peg leg went clunking down the steps right out from under him. He held his breath for each clunk until the echos left the dwell.

Then he just sat there all crouched down listening to pair fuck from around the corner. Ever devoted Arthur, even in death, was trying to wait it out considering he'd been trying for the whole ball to see them. It took everything in him not to peek. He'd press his face against the stone tempted, but too nervous. The image of what he already saw was playing over in his head as he listened on the edge totally tuned in.

---

Every word Geppeto said was like a tuning fork right into Willem's heart. It was reminder of what he was losing himself the more life he gave. If was stark because he was seeing Geppeto did not regain it even in death. It was a gift to those lives forever it seemed. He regretted nothing and Willem knew by how joyous a man he was in death neither would he. He'd move forward carefully, but regret? Never. It made him admire the man even more and who knew that was possible?

Then old Gep was gone.

Sweaty eyeballs? Oh boy.

"Fucking sweaty eyeballs are the worst." He said as he wiped at his own and then said, "You're getting a moment of wifey treatment tonight like it or not. Do it for me. I need the treatment." Then he leaned in and gave his best friend, super specialist person the biggest hug. It was a big one that didn't want to let go because he was too busy holding onto all the feeling Geppeto just left them with and was squooshing them all inside them both.

When he did pull back he took the biggest breath. "Tell me what I can do for you tonight, Smalls? Stay with you till the last bus is out? You wanna come with to check on the dolls? Wanna ditch your duties tonight and go home? Make everyone stay at the inn? Fuck 'em. We got movies we could watch? They'll live until tomorrow. What are they gonna do about?" Asked the pirate mind with no fucks given. All he knew was after that he felt like it was all up to Figaro.

Frank couldn’t help the deep chuckle as she was already so needy, that she couldn’t make up her mind about anything. Not even in her thoughts, not in her words, nothing. This was the sort of thing that made him feel powerful, even more than bearing all of the pain that she could inflict made him feel. When her wings would break out from her skin and her talons would penetrate into his back at the same time, in the same places so that he could feel what she felt - oh, this connection was going to be the death of him, but it was the life of him also.

He almost wanted to go slow. To tease her. To enjoy her fully. Get down onto his knees and lift her dress and go underneath it, lick up every drop of her arousal while getting harder by the second -

But even he did not dare to tell Delta no, not when she had this tone.

He could feel his cock twitch, clearly aroused before he was even out of these annoyingly tight leather trousers. His plush lips parted, letting out a deep and lustful groan, just in the anticipation, his large eyes closing. One would think he was touchstarved with how he was reaction to just the simple act of the loosening of his pants. He opened his eyes again, just to see the panties fling over the walls. It was a pretty goddamn good thing that Diablo had flown around and grabbed them. The jealous rage that he would have been in if someone had come across them, someone like Arthur, someone like a Laveau. Those were theirs. No one elses.

God, she was sexy.

Especially when she was in the midst of her transformation like this. He shivered with the expectancy of the pain that she was going to put him through, to share. Even if she ripped through his costume, oh, those talons and leather together? Actually, that was such a delicious combination. His hands started to wander, over the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, up her back to the place where the wings had broken through, feeling the blood on his fingertips, spreading it.

And now, she said, and like an obedient little lover, he started. But not in the submissive way.

He quickly bent her over, large hands pushing, skirt lifting, exposing herself to him, while she looked out over the ramparts, towards the land that was all theirs. His fingers, still slick with blood, were his lubricant as he brought his fingers between her legs and began to delve in. He was a considerate lover, after all, and he knew that he was large. He had to make absolutely sure that he would fit.

“So wet-” He murmured, speaking outloud. He liked the way that the words sounded on the wind as he pumped them in and out of her. His own arousal fit snugly between her crack, growing harder until finally, he felt that she was ready. His fingers pulled out and his cock head went in, slow strokes turning to powerful and yet desperate ones, a long and satisfied groan escaping his lips. "That's my Acid Girl."

He heard the thoughts before he heard the footsteps. He almost rolled his eyes as his lip got snagged by his teeth. Arthur. The little runt, even bugging them after death. But was he about to stop? No, but he would pull Delta’s skirt back down to cover them as much as it could, protecting her modesty. No peeks for the aardvark.

--

Figaro and Gepetto had been talking long before Gep took Willem as his apprentice. Figaro had seen how Willem was really good at tinkering with things, how he was looking for a place to belong, a way to make a mark that wasn’t just following in his father’s footsteps. They weren’t the most dense person in the world, even if they were a bit emotionally stunted in ways. And they were the one that encouraged their father to take an apprentace, something that Gepetto hadn’t done since Hansel.

He definitely proved himself, he got the job with his own merit, and was clearly very talented, with how he was able to keep on getting clients, even outside of Gepetto’s. But Figaro still liked to think they helped.

No matter how long Willem would be gone, whether it’s to the fairy realm or New Zealand to hang out with their friends, or anywhere in this big wide world - Fig was going to keep a place for them in Funkytown. That hammock was staying up. Not to mention if anyone tried to bar him, Hansel would definitely come out and kick their asses.

“I hyuckin’ love you too,” Figaro said, and Gepetto joined in as well, but he went ahead with his own version, “I enormously love you both, my girl, my boy.”

Time passed. The ball was jumpin’ til the sun came up, though there was more than just the autumn sunshine behind these walls, what with Elsa’s busy hands. And then, unfortunately, it was time to say goodbye. Gepetto took one of Figaro’s hands in his wrinkled old one, calloused through years of work, scarred through smashing, cutting, splintering, burning, stabbing, all the tricks of the trade, and then Willem’s hand in his other.

“I have traveled a lot of places throughout my time, I have had a very good, very long, very adventurous life,” He said, his tone rich, like he was telling a story. He chuckled slightly. “Even if I cannot remember some of it because I gave those memories up to create lives. But I never forget what it is important, like people, like you two. People … have always known instinctively what places have power and that is where they build. Temples, shrines, cathedrals, castles,” He shrugged as to motion around him. “And I have seen some of these places but the best one, in my opinion, the one with the most power is home. Funkytown. And it’s because of you both. The landscape around it changes but because of you two, it stays the same, it stood the tests of time. Keep it safe, as you keep one another safe. Keep it fun, as you two are always having fun with each other. And keep it funky, as you two will always be.”

And after these words, he faded, going back to his new home, or to haunt the old, neither of them knew. But Figaro knew which one they were hoping for.

“Damn - sweaty - eyeballs,” Figaro said, turning for a second to wipe their eyes again, messily with the palm of their hand.

[gothamite-rambler]

"Yeah I'm not one the lazy cops, I got to be Commissioner for a reason," Jim Gordon said, casually.

Commissioner Gordon knows Batman's true identity and his as a friend. He values the trust between them and has chosen to protect that secret. Gordon understands that Bruce Wayne, in his dual role as Gotham's protector, will always put the city's safety first. He's no fool; he sees through the mask and recognizes the man behind it.

Moreover, Gordon eventually found out that Jason Todd is alive and has taken on the mantle of the Red Hood. In a city like Gotham, reality often blurs with the surreal. The extraordinary scenarios play out so frequently that they almost become mundane—a twisted part of everyday life. While keeping such secrets may contradict the law, Gordon knows that he's seen far worse things in his career. Some secrets are kept for the greater good, and he believes this is one of them. After all, in a city riddled with corruption and chaos, sometimes the lines between right and wrong become all too hazy.

Batman (uneasy): Commissioner Gordon... hey, the guy who sees us as friends.

Gordon turned around, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Gordon: Yes?

Batman (exhausted): You're expecting me to say something shocking?

Gordon nodded, leaning against the rooftop ledge.

Gordon: Yes. No worries, I’m the only one up here. Go ahead; I feel like I already have the correct guess.

Batman: Just stay calm. Remember when Jason Todd died and then that guy showed up years later, taking out criminals?

Gordon grinned leaning in slightly as if anticipating the big reveal.

Gordon: Red Hood, yes.

Batman: Yes, um, Red Hood is Jason Todd, and after many, many years of fighting him... we're on good terms. He doesn't live in Gotham... please don't arrest him.

Gordon crossed his arms, his expression one of mock-seriousness.

Gordon: Oh, good for you. I already knew who he was and that he moved out of Gotham.

Batman (upset the man knew already): You freaking didn't!

Gordon (quick answer, smirking): I figured it out when you were debating if he was Jason Todd.

Batman (twitching left eye, exhaling sharply as he leans back): I never said that in front of you! Who told you he might be Jason—Barbara?

Gordon (chuckling to himself, shaking his head in amusement): Yup, when I invited her over for tea two years ago. She said you guys were not on the best of terms and that you hadn't figured it out. I figured that meant you two were arguing back and forth. He tried to kill you; you tried to stop him. Am I wrong?

Batman (annoyed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away): Anyone would've guessed that.

Gordon (smiling because he's about to school this man, gesturing animatedly as he relishes the moment): Then you got kidnapped by Mr. Freeze at the gala.

Batman (not angry, just annoyed again, running a hand through his hair as he rolls his eyes): Can you not word it that way while we're on a public roof?

Gordon (waving a hand dismissively, still grinning): No worries. When Bruce Wayne—who isn't you—got frozen by Mr. Freeze and had to be saved by your Robins—not Bruce Wayne's sons. Was that better?

Gordon laughs, clearly enjoying himself, as he takes a step back, allowing the moment to sink in.

Batman sighed, shaking his head incredulously as he glanced at the sky.

Batman: Oh my God, this is my life. Can you not... arrest him?

Gordon (tilting his head, considering, his tone playful yet serious): Hm, I'm torn. On one hand, his vigilantism did get out of hand, and you know I don't agree with senseless murder. But on the other hand, I do need a donation for this upcoming policemen's ball.

Batman (raising an eyebrow, incredulous as he crosses his arms): You better be joking.

Gordon (smiling, a playful glint in his eye): Yeah, I'm joking. You're fine; I'm not going to arrest him. He doesn't live here, so that takes any suspicion off of him. Plus, Babs told me he changed his suit and is doing better mentally. I'm happy things worked out for you two.

Batman (angry, but beneath it all there's a hint of worry, tapping his foot impatiently): One minute; I have to talk to Oracle.

Batman pressed his comm device, a frown settling on his lips.

Batman: Oracle... Can you stop fucking telling him stuff!

Oracle (her voice calm and slightly exasperated, as if used to their banter): He's my dad; I trust him, dude. Get over it.

Batman (sighing, rubbing his temples as he glances at the ground): Yep, yep, yep, freaking yep. Even though I'm glad you’ll be keeping this secret—as you do with many aspects of my life at this point—I will donate something to that commissioner's police ball or whatever, and I can offer some protection if you want.

Gordon (smiling, his expression softening as he considers the offer): Thanks, buddy. It's a slow night tonight, do you want to grab something to eat or some coffee and then do your usual patrol?

Batman (exhausted, a small smile creeping in as he nods): I would like that. I am so freaking tired at this point. I'm getting too old for all of this.

Gordon (chuckling, nodding in agreement as he gestures toward the staircase): Yep, been there.

The two share a moment of camaraderie, gazing out over the city before Batman turns toward the staircase, a weary but grateful expression on his face.

Batman (with a feigned dramatic flair, lightening the mood): Lead the way, Commissioner.

Gordon shakes his head, laughing as they begin to walk down into the city together, ready for whatever the night might bring.

[whumpninja]

WOW this one was fun. Once I finally got meself off me duff and started writing it, anyway. This piece features OCs from my story The Angel of Death, and is set a few days before the main story.

The Angel of Death taglist:@i-eat-worlds @softvampirewhump @scoundrelwithboba @rainbowsandwhumperflies @octopus-reactivated @whumperfultime @pigeonwhumps @handsinmotion @starfields08000 @fleur-a-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby

Prompt used: AI-less Whumptober, removing body parts and “Don’t break down on me yet.”

Featuring: forced to fight, cage match, vampire whump, blood, gore, dismembering, THIS ONE IS GRAPHIC PLEASE WATCH YOUR STEP

Whumptober Day Fifteen: Break A Leg

Not a seat was occupied even though they had all been sold. The whole crowd was on their feet, roaring. Down at the betting boxes, money changed hands faster than any Las Vegas casino.

Mr. Moody leaned back in his chair and smiled. Business is good.

In the arena, just in front of him, two vampires fought viciously. One was using strategy, manuevering their opponent into facing the floodlights, hurling sawdust in his eyes, jumping and ducking and dodging. At one point they'd managed to scramble up the cage fencing surrounding the arena, out of reach of the other combatant. Mr. Moody had let that trick play out only a few moments before he'd sent Ronnie down with a stun cane to shock them back off and into the fight. Memo to me: electrify that fence. It was a good move, and had gotten the audience excited. But he wanted a fight, not an escape.

The other vampire had no thought for trickery or stratagem. He hurled himself at his enemy, over and over again, finding the scent and charging at them with no regard for the danger. It had been a long battle, nearly eight minutes already. Brute strength could only last so long.

"Come on, Angel," Mr. Moody muttered. "Show 'em what you've got."

He'd gone heavier than usual on the drugs. There had been complaints that it was always over too quickly when it was the champion versus one of the regular fighters. He'd decided that a heavier dose would help- it would make Angel slower, clumsier, more unsteady.

It would not make him less dangerous. And it would not save his opponent.

Angel charged again, claws catching at the meat of his enemy's side. The other vampire howled with pain and turned, driving an elbow into Angel's chest. The impact knocked him back hard. He fell, snarling and shaking his head. The second vampire crouched, tensed to strike.

Angel didn't let him. He rebounded up from the arena floor, pouncing on his enemy- his prey. An inhuman cry of agony set the stadium ringing, followed by a sharp crack as the second vampire kneed Angel in the face. The champion of the Colosseum Club stumbled back, bleeding from his nose.

The other vampire retreated, too, bleeding from much worse. Their hand clutched uselessly at where their arm had once been, thick blood trickling between their fingers.

"Finish it, Angel," Mr. Moody said under his breath.

As if he heard his master, Angel went in for the kill.

They tumbled down together, grappling with each other- the other vampire was on defense now, desperately trying to keep themselves away from the vicious claws. Angel wouldn't let up, maddened with pain now as well as the smell of blood. The crowd was electric. It had been a good fight, but they wanted to see it end, and end bloody.

Angel obliged. The other vampire managed to pin him, and Angel tore an arm free and sank claws deep into his enemy's neck. The vampire's gurgling scream ended abruptly as Angel ripped their throat out, the sounds of tearing flesh and seeping blood lost in the frenzy of the crowd.

They were so excited that they didn't notice what happened next.

Mr. Moody did. He always noticed when something went wrong.

The blood of his victim doing nothing to sate him, Angel dropped the shredded corpse. He shook his head, dazed, confused- almost seeming frightened, if a creature like him could be frightened.

Then he crawled away from the body, leaving smears of blood in the sand. He swayed, collapsed, and lay still.

Mr. Moody bolted out of his chair, fumbling for the walkie-talkie at his belt. "Get someone down there. Now. I'm on my way."

He took the stairs down underneath the arena two at a time.

Two of the security guys had gotten Angel out by now, although they'd dispensed with most of the usual restraints. They'd cuffed his hands, but not done anything else.

Mr. Moody saw the problem immediately. "How the hell does he have a broken leg?" he roared.

"That vamp put up a good fight, must have done it during that last clash," one of the guards suggested.

"When that one regenerates, stake it," Mr. Moody ordered. "It was too smart anyway. And get that fence electrified." He crouched down beside his wounded vampire, feeling clumsily along the bone. Angel thrashed wildly and tried to bite him through the wires that held his fangs, his eyes wide with panic and pain. "All right, all right, calm down." Mr. Moody snapped his fingers at the guards. "Get a tranquilizer and get him put away for the night. Keep him off that leg. I'm gonna make some calls in the morning, see if I can find a vet that'll help."

The guards ran off to do his bidding. Mr. Moody rummaged around until he found the bag of blood on the shelf- he let Angel have more than usual, hoping it might help. "You did good, boy, real good. We'll get that leg fixed up and you'll be right back to it, huh?"

Angel ignored him, entirely focused on the food. His leg was at a bad angle, and Mr. Moody knew it was going to need attention sooner rather than later. "Come on," he muttered. "Don't break down on me yet, champ. I still need you."

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ MOUTHWASHING ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P5

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

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Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

(continued)

You stared in shock at the sight in front of you. Jimmy had opened one of the shipping boxes, hoping for something useful. You were all disappointed after he flipped the flaps to reveal mouthwash.

“It’s.. this is..” Jimmy muttered softly, at a loss for words. “Mouthwash?” Anya finished for him, her voice squeaky, sounding like she was about to cry. “Is this the only thing in here?” You whispered through the tense air, let down by what the boxes contained.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Swansea murmured, ignoring your question. You couldn’t blame him though. You probably would’ve ignored yourself as well, due to the shock. “There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here! This room looks freaking endless!” Daisuke exclaimed, waving his arms around.

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy asked. Daisuke and Swansea looked up towards him while you and Anya continued staring down at the liquid. “All of this.. for mouthwash?!” He shouted, getting frustrated.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant.” Anya said, looking at the back of the bottle. “Disinfectant? What are you.. let me see that!” Swansea snatched the item out of her hand, taking a look at it himself.

He stayed silent for a moment, taking his time to read it. “14% Ethanol!” He laughed, causing Daisuke to turn to him and chuckle awkwardly. “I suppose we’ll smell good at least?” He tilted his head in confusion, not understanding why the older male was grinning.

“That’s right, kiddo! You can bet your ass on that.” The older man nodded, a smirk replacing his usual frown. “W-What are you doing?!” Anya worriedly asked, hands shaking. “Stop that!” She demanded.

Swansea took the cap off the bottle before drinking the mouthwash, causing you to softly gasp. “Whew! Ohh.. shut up. I’m just an old codger taking care of his dental hygiene.” He excused. You press your lips together, brows creasing.

“You hear that? That’s the sound of 15 years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst!” Swansea shouted before cheering for Captain Curly, pumping the mouthwash into the air.

“Doesn’t that burn your throat?” You asked him, eyes squinting. He chuckled before nodding slowly, already feeling the kick of the blue liquid. “Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff.” Daisuke muttered, staring at Swansea.

“Yeah, and kill you in the process.” Jimmy added. You kept your hand on your forearm, feeling nothing but concern for the drunken man by you. You looked towards Jimmy, your face filled with curiosity.

“Could it really kill someone? Just from drinking mouthwash?” Your brows furrowed. Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, it could.” He confirmed.

“This can’t be real.. I-.. there’s no way.” Anya held her face in the palm of her hands, voice muffled by them. “Now we can go out in style!” Swansea joked before turning his head towards the boy beside you.

“Daisuke..” He sang. “Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?” He asked, raising the mouthwash from his hand, handing it towards the young brunette.

You couldn’t help but watch, knowing that if you tried to do anything, you’d just be labeled as a “loser” or a “party pooper” by Swansea. So, you stayed silent, not trying anything to ruin their small bonding time.

————

6 DAYS BEFORE THE CRASH

You, Swansea, Jimmy, Daisuke and Anya stood in front of the main lounge door, waiting for the captain to arrive and be surprised. You all had on party hats, yours being yellow with red spots around it.

A smile was plastered on your face, excited to do your first surprise-birthday. Swansea had informed you that every year, they do these surprises for one person per trip. You were quickly on board, happy to help set everything up.

Suddenly, the automatic door opened, revealing the blonde. The five of you started clapping as he stepped through the door. “Surprise!” Jimmy chuckled as everyone calmed down.

“Suuurpriiusee!” Daisuke shouted, a dorky grin running along his mouth. “Look at your face!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, almost smacking you in the face. “Gotcha!” Anya chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Did we get you?” You asked, tilting your head as you held your hands behind your back. Curly’s face already answered your question. “Cheers.” Swansea mutters behind you, his hands on his hips.

“Wow..” Curly murmured. “What’s the.. uh.. occasion?” He asked, his facial expression still slightly shocked. “We only get one communal birthday party per trip, right? So we can have it whenever.” Anya explained, a small smile glazing her lips.

“Only one person can really be surprise birthday’ed per trip. We did Swansea last hall, remember?” Jimmy reminded, causing Daisuke to turn towards him, his mouth open in disbelief.

“No way. I can’t believe I missed that!” He pouted as Jimmy ignored him. “You were next on the list. So, congratulations.” He continued.

“Hate to say it though, your duties have to extend to even your own birthday party.” He hesitated, chuckling. On the fridge, there’s a recipe notebook for food and beverages. Sadly enough, the cake in the book has a code to make it. And the only one who has the code scanner is the captain.

“You’re the only one with clearance to make the cake.” Anya disappointingly said, her voice soft before raising again. “The recipe is there by the machine. Hop to it, captain!” She smiled.

Curly chuckled lowly before stepping to the side and walking towards the fridge. Grabbing the code scanner, he flipped to the page the code was on before scanning it.

2341

He quickly memorized it and stepped over to the food dispenser, sweetener in hand. He set it in the machine, pushing the buttons. After a few quick seconds, it was done. He grabbed it from the dispenser before rushing to finish it, placing it in the machine and making the cake.

After only a short while, he was done. The five of you quickly sat down, ready to eat. Curly grabbed the cake and walked to the table, setting it down in the middle of you all. He then sat on the end of the table, Jimmy across from him.

“You gotta make a speech.” Daisuke started, getting hyper once again. “Speech, speech, speech!” He chanted, pumping his fists into the air. You chuckled at his actions, your mouth watering at the sight of the cake in front of you. “Go on!” Anya encouraged. Curly hesitated for a moment, causing Jimmy to interfere.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows furrowing. Curly sighed before explaining that Pony Express finally shut down, and that this would be the crews final mission together. You glanced at him, brows creasing as you felt your heartbeat get faster.

“We’ll still be paid, right? They can’t just.. send us into space and expect us not to get a paycheck, can they?” You muttered, feeing your leg bounce with anxiety.

Curly turned his head towards you, confidently nodding. “Of course. We will receive the paycheck for this delivery. I don’t know anymore than that.” He stated.

“Pony Express finally kicking the bucket, huh?” Swansea mumbled. “What a joke. And we’re the punchline.” Anya felt tears in her eyes and didn’t try to keep them in. She placed her hand to her mouth, voice muffled. “I don’t have any savings. The can’t do this.. there’s no way!” She sniffled.

“Pony Express was one of the last manned crew freighter companies. The writings been on the wall for a long time.” Swansea explained before Jimmy started getting upset, surprising nobody. “When did they tell you?” He demanded, his voice low.

“Earlier this week. I was instructed to wait until we’re closer to the haul destination, but I can’t keep something like this from you all.” Curly didn’t hesitate to reply, remaining calm as he spoke. You couldn’t say the same for Jimmy, though.

“So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt.” He whispered, almost growling. “Jim.. if I had known-..” The captain gets cut off as the brunette continued. You watched carefully between the two men, not wanting it to escalate.

Suddenly, Jimmy went around the table, exposing everyone’s struggles. “Anya never got into medical school because she’s, well, let’s be real.” He trailed off before turning to Swansea. “And how many employment years Swansea got left in him?” He asked.

“Y/N’s only in this because they need the money for a new place to stay, so they’re screwed.” You glanced down at your empty plate, feeling tears prick out of the corner of your eyes. “Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered, so there’s that at least.”

Jimmy then stared at Curly, his eyes filled with hatred. “But you.. headed for bigger and better, right?” He asked. “I’m just.. I’m just working on my life being a place I don’t have to fucking escape!” He shouted, losing his patience. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, nothing m-..” Jimmy cut him off by slamming his hands down on the table.

“We’re the ones you’re trying to escape!” He yelled back, motioning to the five of you. “Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean.” You bit back a sob, not wanting them to yell anymore. You swallowed before breathing out through your mouth, your breath shaking with fear.

Daisuke seemed to have noticed because he took his eyes off of the two men arguing and glanced at you, eyes filled with worry. He placed his hand on your head before guiding you to lay down on his shoulder. The two of you stayed silent, letting them fight it out. “Let’s have some fucking cake, hm?” Jimmy muttered, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms.

“Props to the twilight cruise of the Tulpar. Props to our captain and his new prospects.” He sarcastically said, sounding like he was about to lash out once again. Curly silently grabbed the knife and cut the first slice.

————

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

You laid beside Daisuke in your own medical sleeping bag, holding his hand. Your makeshift beds were placed next to each other, leaving no space between the two of you. Jimmy was next to you two as well, his sleeping bag not too far away.

It made you a little uneasy knowing that he’d be sleeping next to you, but it calmed you down when Daisuke offered to put his bed next to yours.

Your eyes were closed, but you weren’t asleep like he was. You heard Jimmy grumble and stand up before walking out of the lounge area. You shuffled a little and opened your eyes, scooting closer to Daisuke. You kept his hand in yours as you stared at his features.

You yawn, a strange croaking sound coming from your mouth. You chuckle silently to yourself, making sure to keep quiet for your boyfriend lying beside you. You made a risky decision to touch him, trailing your fingers against his cheek.

You felt as if you’ve fallen in love all over again. His peaceful face still filled with energy, his brunette hair as dark as caramel. You didn’t understand how he could ever pick someone like you to be his partner.

Suddenly, he stirred in his sleep, causing you to softly gasp. You take your hand away in fear of him awakening. As you did so, he frowned. He shifted closer to you, his eyes still shut as he wrapped his arms around your torso, his face smushed into your neck, breathing in your scent.

You gently embraced him, your lips to his forehead. Your lips kiss his temple before settling down. You felt your eyelids become heavy, feeling at peace. You didn’t fight it, making you fall asleep tangled in his arms, his in yours.

Just before you fell into a deep slumber, you heard the lounge door open once again. You felt eyes on the back of your head, and you couldn’t help but glance behind you. There stood Jimmy, a grim expression written on his face.

You didn’t say anything and lowered your head onto the thin pillow once again, supporting Daisuke’s head by resting your hand on his hair. You finally reached the edge of slumber, your body going limp as soft snores come from your mouth.

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authors note

suddenly feeling the urge to just kill off reader for angst.. yeahh I won’t though😭😭 I couldn’t do that to yall <33 (maybe someday.. but not now 🫶🏻)

anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!! part 6 will be up soon<3

[benefactordreams]

“Do you think we'd be lovers in every universe?”

“But of course, McCoy my love.”

but that was simply a lie coated in sugar to hide his motives from McCoy. Of course he didn't think so, and he'd hate if they were.