#he is freed from tiny jail

[mawsilent]

Well THAT had been a wild ride. At least he learned some stuff!

It's hard being so short. Poor Teal has it rough.

Oh, to be 5'10" again, thank goodness.

( Note: You can still engage with Body-Swapped N for a week after the 4th of January, just as a separated ""event""! )

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 2 - Spring: Three Meetings and a Proposal

Masterpost Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Somehow, you keep running into Neuvillette. When something unexpected happens, he offers you an unexpected proposal. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please go over there if you'd like to read it faster

Have a picture of neuvillette standing next to the skull of Oroboshi

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A month had passed since that unexpected encounter. You hadn’t told anyone about it, because it felt unreal even to you. Maybe you really had drank too much champagne.

In any case, the events of the ball were quickly forgotten amidst the immense preparations you had to do to obtain your governess license. It was a long, grueling process that involved leaving your hometown and moving all the way to the city, but it was about to bear fruit at last. After one last history exam, you would finally obtain your license and be able to advertise your services in the newspapers and bulletin boards.

And then, you would finally be blissfully freed from all those marriage-hunting obligations. No more balls, no more disappointments...

It was those thoughts that kept you going as you stared at the tiny words in your history textbook while being surrounded by people who seemed determined to scream their lungs out today.

“Get him, get him!” your sweet, adorable sister shouted next to you.

“Send him to jail!” her new beau also shouted from next to her. I’m pretty sure one can’t be sent to jail for hoarding ashtrays, you thought, but said nothing. He probably couldn’t even hear you, anyways.

Today, you were forced to chaperone your sister and the viscount’s son on their “romantic engagement.” Said “romantic engagement” happened to be attending a trial at the Opera Epiclese. Apparently, this was a popular date spot for young couples. It was things like these that made you feel dreadfully old and out of touch sometimes.

The seats were packed for today’s trial, for good reason. This trial was just one part of a lengthy divorce proceeding between a celebrity couple, in which they were trying to figure out how to divide their many, many assets. It was akin to a serial and even had its own dedicated column in the newspapers.

You glanced over at your sister and the young lord. They were whispering together and giggling. Even though the viscount’s son seemed a bit, for the lack of a better word, dopey, from your short interactions with him you could tell that he was a good-hearted and generous young man. Plus, there was a certain charm in watching him and your sister getting closer, the same feeling one would get from observing two cute puppies playing together. Perhaps your mother would live to see one of her daughters get married after all.

You looked back down at your book. You were on the chapter about Remuria, one of your favorite subjects. You loved reading about that long-deceased God King and his drowned empire of music. You knew that there were extensive ruins from that period near the town of Petrichor, but it was much too far and dangerous (without shelling out the exorbitant amounts of money for protection) to go there from the Court of Fontaine, so you could only ever dream of visiting there.

The cacophony faded into the background as you became engrossed in the topic.

It felt like no time had passed before you felt your sister shake your arm. “Sister, Sister! The trial’s over! Let’s go.”

You looked up to see people walking past you towards the exit. Judging from their chatter, the wife seemed to have won. What she was going to do with a vault of ashtrays, you had no idea.

You snapped your book closed and followed everyone else out. “I don’t know how you can read that boring book when there’s such an exciting show going on,” the viscount’s son commented, eyeing the thick textbook.

“Oh, that’s one of Sister’s special powers! The ability to read anywhere, no matter how loud or unsuitable the place is. I don’t know how she does it,” your sister chimed in.

“You can learn it too, you know, if you apply yourself to it,” you informed her.

“Ugh, you’re already talking like a governess,” your sister pouted.

“A governess? You want to be that?” the viscount’s son said, sounding incredulous. Seriously, why does everyone sound so shocked when they hear about it? “I had a governess once. She was always alone and wasn’t even allowed to eat with the family. Seems like a rather miserable job if you asked me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told her, but she won’t change her mind! She kept talking about how it’s ‘her role in life’ and her ‘fate.’”

You tuned the two out. You had heard variations of this conversation too many times over the years.

Once the three of you reached the main hall, the darling couple decided to go get some refreshments while waiting for the rain to subside. You decided to sit on one of the comfy stuffed couches under the stairs and resume your studying.

The words on the pages flowed into your brain. Remus...Sybilla...harmosts... what would it be like to live in that era? Or at least, to walk the places where these words were once part of everyday life? To touch the artifacts—the once-cherished, once-used items—of the people from back then?

You shook your head. Sometimes, your mind would drift to things that weren’t anywhere on the horizon of your life, just like how you would sometimes indulge yourself by reading romance novels and light novels from Inazuma. No, you needed to hone your mind and focus on your reality. You were in no position to move off your pre-determined path. You needed to think about how you were going to teach these concepts to children—

“Good day to you, Miss [Name].”

You nearly jumped at that voice. A very familiar voice. Knowing who you were going to see, you stood up with your head bowed.

“Good day to you, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

You lifted your head. The man himself was standing in front of you. You had only ever seen his face in the papers and only met him once (in the dark, no less), but you thought he seemed a bit fatigued. You couldn’t blame him, though. You were sure you would feel the same if you had to preside over such a ridiculous series of trials.

“I do apologize for disturbing you,” Neuvillette immediately said upon seeing your face. Maybe your poker face wasn’t as good as you thought.

“It’s alright, Monsieur. I don’t mind.” You tried your best to sound like you meant it.

“May I sit down?” Neuvillette said after a pause. You nodded, and he proceeded to sit next to you. You moved all the way to the other end of the couch. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed you two, considering how this couch was somewhat hidden away from sight, but you couldn’t take any chances. A governess’s job prospects hinged on having a spotless reputation, after all.

“Are you here with someone?” Neuvillette asked.

“Yes, Monsieur. I’m chaperoning my sister, who has been invited on a date here.”

Speaking of your sister, you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see how the two lovebirds were faring. They were currently in the process of choosing from a large menu, giggling and nudging each other as they did so. They probably weren’t going to be finished any time soon.

“Date...” Neuvillette mused. “Yes, I’ve heard that it has become quite a trend among young people to have romantic engagements at the Opera. I must admit, I don’t quite approve of having the sanctity of trials be used for such purposes.”

“I agree,” you nodded. “Although since trials are already spectacles, I suppose this isn’t so preposterous.”

“You certainly don’t mince words, Miss [Name].” there was an amused note in his voice. All you could do was shrug and smile. It wasn’t like you could refute him.

Another awkward silence. Maybe you had offended him with your comment? You didn’t really know why he would be offended though, considering that trials in Fontaine were like performances.

“What did you think of the trial, Miss [Name]?”

You had to think about it for a minute. It felt like you were being quizzed on something you hadn’t studied for. “I think they are both idiots, Monsieur. They would save everyone’s time by dueling it out between themselves.”

Neuvillette blinked for a minute, and then a small laugh slipped out his mouth. You took that to mean that he agreed with you.

His lilac eyes moved to the thick textbook in your hand, seeing it closely for the first time. His brow furrowed. “Were you reading that during the trial?”

Under his puzzled gaze, you felt like you had done something wrong. “Um, yes. Not out of disrespect for the proceedings, I assure you, Monsieur. But I have an important exam for my governess license coming up, so I need to grab any chance I have to study for it.”

“Studying in such a chaotic environment... you’re very dedicated to your goal. I can think of a few people who might be able to learn from you.”

You didn’t hear any sarcasm in his voice. He sounded genuinely impressed. You felt your shoulders relax. It had become an unfortunate tendency of yours to become defensive when you talked about these things. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

“What are you studying?” He leaned closer to you. How long is he going to stay here?

“History, Monsieur. I was reading about the older periods of Fontainian history like the Remurian Dynasty,” you opened your book and flipped to the chapter.

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at all the underlined passages and marginal notes on the pages. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that the subject of Remuria would make up such a large portion of the exam that it would warrant all these notes. Is it a personal interest of yours?”

The idea that Neuvillette knew what was on the exam was surprising. You didn’t think it was something he would have much knowledge of, but since he was the head of the Maison Gestion, which administered the governess exams, maybe it wasn’t so surprising?

“...I suppose it is,” you said at last.

"What do you like about it?”

That question caught you off guard. "I just...do,” you said at last. “The story of that civilization is very fascinating to me, so I couldn’t help but read more about it.”

No one had ever asked you about this, so you didn’t know how to answer it.

Neuvillette looked down at your notes again. Was he reading them? You had the urge to close your book. Somehow, it felt like a violation of privacy, like he was reading your diary.

You were saved by the footsteps running up to you. “Sister! Sorry we took so long! We got the—oh Archons, is that Monsieur Neuvillette!?”

Your sister and the young master were both holding boxes of Conch Madeleines in their hands, staring at the Chief Justice with identical expressions of shock. You might have laughed if the atmosphere ’t so serious.

Neuvillette stood up. “Good day to you both,” he nodded towards them, then to you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

The three of you watched as he left. Once he was out of earshot, your sister turned to you excitedly. “Sister! You know the Chief Justice?”

“I don’t,” you said, which was a half-truth. You really didn’t know him. “He just came up to me and started chatting.”

“Really?” she lifted an eyebrow. “The Chief Justice, who is so notoriously private that he rarely even does interviews, just randomly struck up a conversation with a stranger?”

“Look, I wish I could give you a good reason, but I can’t.”

Your sister continued to stare at you with narrowed eyes. You were usually pretty good at lying to people thanks to your excellent poker face, but your sister was one of the few people who could see right through you.

“Hey, it stopped raining!” Luckily, you were saved by the viscount’s son’s shout. “That was quicker than I expected.”

With snacks in hand, the three of you left the opera house and headed towards the aquabus station.

The exam day came, and in your honest opinion, you performed excellently. The questions were so easy that you could answer them in your sleep. The results would be finalized next week, and you knew for certain that you had qualified with flying colors. You handed the exam to the invigilator and left the Palais Mermonia with a spring in your step.

Now that you had the rest of the day free, whatever shall you do? Well, since the weather was so nice out, you thought you’d go to the Café Lucerne and get some Conch Madeleines as a celebratory snack. You had brought along your treasured copy of The History of the Decline and Fall of Remuria Volume 1 as well. Just the thought of spending the day eating sweets and reading your favorite book in the warm sunshine brought a smile to your face as you walked towards the elevator.

The thought distracted you so much that you didn’t notice the other occupant in the elevator until they cleared their throat. You spun around. It was as though fate was playing some kind of sick joke on you, since it was Neuvillette—who else could it be—standing in the tiny elevator space with you.

You thought about excusing yourself and leaving the elevator, but it was already descending.

“We do seem to meet quite often, Miss [Name],” he said. “My apologies.”

“Yes, we do indeed, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said, resigning yourself to your fate. Why did he apologize just now?

“Did you have business at the Palais Mermonia today?” he asked.

“Yes. I had to write a history exam for my governess license.”

“Ah, I see. I wish you luck in passing.”

“Thank you, Monsieur,” you smiled and nodded.

An all-too-familiar silence fell. Couldn’t this elevator go any faster? It felt as though this shaft was going on forever.

You racked your brain for something to say but came up empty. You and Neuvillette simply lived in two completely different worlds. In situations like these, it was better to stay silent and pretend to be invisible, in your experience.

“So, Miss [Name], what do you think of the fall of Remuria? Do you believe it was truly predestined?”

“Huh?” That was the last thing you expected to hear.

Neuvillette repeated his question.

“I heard you the first time, Monsieur...I was just confused as to why you asked me that.”

“I simply want to know what a scholar of history like yourself thinks about it. I’ve asked this question to several others, and I’ve always received different answers. It’s very fascinating.”

A scholar of history? You felt embarrassed at how your heart lifted at hearing yourself described as such.

“Well, if you don’t mind listening to the opinions of an untrained layman like me, Monsieur...”

You cleared your throat and began to launch into the theory you had been brewing inside your head for several years. As you talked, the two of you walked out of the elevator and into the main hall, where people gawked at the Chief Justice listening attentively to a plain-looking woman prattling on about Remus and Boethius.

You noticed none of these things, for you had gotten too carried away with the excitement of finally having the opportunity to express your opinion on things that you actually cared about. You also didn’t notice the soft amusement in Neuvillette’s eyes as he observed you.

“...And so, I believe that Remuria might have lasted for much longer if those in power didn’t covet the things that weren’t meant for them, and instead focused their energies on preparing for their inevitable fate,” you concluded as the two of you neared the Café, then smiled up at him triumphantly. It was then that you realized that you had been the only one talking for the past fifteen minutes. “Oh, my apologies, Monsieur. I got carried away. It must have been dreadfully boring to hear me talk on and on.”

“Not at all. I was the one who asked, and it’s fascinating to hear such long-ago events from the perspective of a modern young lady. Have you ever considered becoming a historian or an archaeologist?”

Your good mood immediately faded upon hearing that. “No, Monsieur,” you said, sounding curter than you meant to. “I have not. Being a governess is my sole goal in life.”

Neuvillette seemed to sense your shift in mood, and the corners of his eyes lowered in regret. “My apologies. I have overstepped my bounds. But still, I do believe that the academic world is missing a brilliant mind like yours.”

You knew he was just being kind, but you still couldn’t help but feel a bit proud. And guilty. Your personal issues weren’t his problem. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

“I must admit, I had a very different impression of you from when we first met.”

“You did?” What he said baffled you. You always considered yourself to be a straightforward, “what you see is what you get” kind of person.

“Yes. I assumed you to be much more somber and cynical, but you’re nothing of that sort. You’re much livelier and passionate than you seem.”

“No, I’d say you were right the first time, Monsieur,” you said, amused. Lively and passionate were not words you had ever heard yourself associated with. “I think everyone acts different when they’re talking about the things they like, because they’re really talking about themselves. For instance, my sister loves to tease most of the time, but she gets deathly serious when it comes to shoes. I’m sure even you have moments like that, Monsieur.”

“No, I’m afraid not. My emotions are not so mutable or varied as yours.”

“Hmm…” you stared at him. It was true that his face wasn’t very expressive, but many people had said the same thing of you and assumed that you were unfeeling, which you knew wasn’t true. Perhaps it was the same for him.

The scent of coffee caught your attention as you realized that you were standing in front of the Café. ��Ah, this is where I was heading, Monsieur. Would you like to, ah, join me?” you said awkwardly.

“I would be delighted to, but I am in fact invited to the opera house for a special performance, so unfortunately, I must decline.”

“A performance, huh. That sounds wonderful. Well, I mustn’t keep you then. Goodbye, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

“Goodbye, Miss [Name]. Have a lovely day.”

You watched him as he left. You had been looking forward to your reading time, but now you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely.

“Congratulations, Miss [Name], you are successfully qualified as a Court of Fontaine-licensed governess.”

The Gestionnaire’s monotone voice did little to dampen your excitement! You did it! After all your hard work and perseverance, you had finally obtained what you longed for.

“Now, you will be placed on the waiting list.”

You felt your smile drop off your face. “Waiting list?”

“There is a large volume of applicants whose applications are waiting to be processed before yours. Not to mention, there is currently a surplus of governesses in Fontaine. You need to wait for the older ones to retire before taking their spots,” the Gestionnaire dropped their voice to a whisper. “I would advise you to reconsider your career aspirations. If you want, you can also be placed on the waiting list for schoolteacher licenses.”

You frowned. School teachers were a somewhat less respectable profession for noble ladies than governess. It wasn’t as bad as laborer or factory worker, but it was still cause for other nobles to gossip about your family behind their backs.

For poor, low-ranking nobles, a spotless reputation was as valuable as gold. Any perceived blemish could attach undesirable labels that would take generations to erase. You thought of your beautiful, angelic sister, smiling so happily with that viscount’s son. That fragile relationship could be so easily snuffed out by a single bad rumor.

There were other jobs open to you, such as lady’s companion. However, you knew yourself well enough to know that you wouldn’t last very long in a role like that.

But on the other hand, you were desperate. You needed to fulfill your role for the sake of your family’s future and your own.

“Okay, put me on that list too,” you nodded tightly. “How long is it?”

“For both lists, it would take at least a year before we reach your application.”

“A year!?” you said. You hadn’t intended to sound angry, but the Gestionnaire recoiled. You forced yourself to calm down. Getting angry wouldn’t help your case.

A year was far too long. You lived in a boarding house in the centre of the city, and your savings were running out quickly. You didn’t even know if you would be able to pay next month’s rent. As a governess, you were supposed to receive a stipend for the first few months after obtaining your license as you searched for work, but those hopes were now dashed.

You thanked the Gestionnaire and left the Palais Mermonia with heavy steps, eventually ending up at the Café Lucerne. You considered going to a tavern to drown your sorrows in drink but decided against it. You were angry and frustrated, yes, but not to the point of doing something so foolish.

So, instead of a nice bottle of alcohol, you ordered five bottles of Fonta. Maybe you could drown your sorrows with their refreshing taste instead.

You slumped in your chair as you guzzled down the first bottle. You didn’t get it. You had worked so hard to fulfill the role granted to you by fate, and yet an obstacle was inexplicably placed on your path. It was such an inoffensive, unassuming role, so why...?

And what were you going to do from now on?

You could go home. Your family lived in a small town that was some distance away from the Court of Fontaine. But you would rather not. You had moved out in the first place to alleviate the financial burden on your family, and if you did move back, you would have to endure your mother’s tireless attempts to find you a husband.

You tilted your head back and stared up at the sky. It was a clear blue, not a single cloud in sight. It felt like it was mocking you.

Just then, a pale face framed with long silver hair blocked your sight. Lilac eyes looked down into your own.

Of course he would be the one to witness your current state. You wouldn’t be surprised if you went home and found him in your sitting room at this point.

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you stood up and curtseyed half-heartedly. “As you can see, I’m no state to keep you company today. Please feel free to converse with someone else."

Neuvillette did not leave, but instead surveyed your surroundings. His brow furrowed at the bottles of Fonta.

He sat down across from you.

“My apologies for being so presumptuous, but I simply cannot stand by and watch you in such a state. Please, tell me what is distressing you.”

You stared at him. He was leaning forward, his eyes brimming with concern. Even though you barely knew him and was still considering just excusing yourself and leaving...

You sat back down and told him what just happened and your current circumstances. As you did so, you felt hot tears building up at the back of your eyes. You squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop them from coming out. You prided yourself on never crying, on taking what life threw at you without complaint. But there was also another reason, something you were surprised to admit even to yourself.

You didn’t want Neuvillette to see you cry.

It was a pathetic wish, but you wanted to show your best side to him. You wanted him to keep being impressed by you.

You didn’t know if Neuvillette picked up on your feelings. You hoped not. If he tried to comfort you, you would really lose control.

It felt colder than it did a few seconds ago. The area darkened; the shadows of clouds casted onto the ground. You could hear the people around you discussing if it was going to rain. Perfect. You would welcome rain at this point.

Neuvillette didn’t say anything for a while after you finished talking. You wondered if he understood what you told him. Surely the Iudex, the highest authority figure in the land next to the Hydro Archon, would find the concept of financial issues foreign?

You decided to grab another bottle of Fonta. But just as you reached for it, Neuvillette’s hand blocked yours and gently placed it down on the table.

Unaware of your reeling, he spoke in a quiet voice. “I can see that you’re in an extremely difficult situation, Miss [Name]. It troubles me greatly.”

You simply nodded. What else was there to say.

“I would like to propose an... unorthodox solution to your problems. One that would be beneficial for both of us.”

You looked up at him at that. You had expected him to tell you to go back home and tell your parents what happened and obey their wishes. But Neuvillette himself was offering a solution? What could it be?

Every nerve in your body was telling you that this could lead to nothing good. You usually trusted your instincts, as they were always right, but currently you were desperate enough to listen to anything.

“What do you propose, Monsieur?”

“Marry me.”

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[reality-detective]

"Marines Were Freed from a Secret Jail That Were Brutally Tortured by Feds"

The six U.S. Marines freed from a secret federal jail said their captors—a mix of FBI agents and private security—tortured them relentlessly, deprived them of food and water, and forced them to defecate in 5-gallon buckets that got emptied only once a week.

As reported previously, U.S. Special Forces on March 8 liberated six Marines the federal government held without trial at a clandestine warehouse-turned-prison in suburban Long Island, New York. The feds had arrested the six for protesting peacefully outside the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Once freed, they were taken to Womack Army Medical Center, Fort Bragg, and treated for maladies and injuries sustained in captivity. This included dehydration, lacerations, puncture wounds, and burns. Alas, one Marine’s wounds were so severe that he went into septic shock and had a leg amputated below the knee.

When debriefed at the hospital, he said their jailors kept them on permanent lockdown in separate cells spaced far enough apart so they couldn’t communicate with one another. He recounted the harrowing ordeal of his arrest. Feds, he said, arrested him off-post near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, then handcuffed and blindfolded him before driving him to a nearby airport or airstrip. He knew this because the feds put him aboard a small turboprop aircraft. During his debrief, he said he could hear propellers spin up minutes before the plane took off. His abductors shackled his ankles and fastened him to a seat. He was punched in the face several times and called a “traitor” during what he guessed was a two-hour flight. When the plane landed, he was struck a few more times, then, still blindfolded, put in a vehicle and driven to an unknown destination. He tasted blood in his mouth from being pummeled so hard and often and eventually lost consciousness.

He awoke in a decrepit cell that smelled like shit, its only furnishings a urine-stained cot and a 5-gallon bucket in the center of the cell. The guards, he said, beat the living daylights out of him every day—sometimes more than once a day—coming at him three at a time so he couldn’t adequately defend himself. One Morning four guards burst into the cell and tied his arms and legs to the cot, spread eagle, and they took turns stabbing him in the right leg with rusty pieces of metal, then cauterizing the wounds with an iron to prevent exsanguination. He guessed he’d been stabbed 20 or 30 times while the guards taunted him, saying other Marines in custody would share his fate. He said one guard urinated on his open wounds prior to them being cauterized.

The other five Marines told comparable stories, though their wounds were far less severe. They said they were fed only twice a week—stale bread, a few ounces of water, or a red liquid that looked like Kool-Aid but with bugs floating in it. One said the guard tried to feed him mashed potatoes with congealed gravy and tiny glass shards.

“These Marines survived the unsurvivable,” our source said. “There are more service members still in federal custody, not to mention the hundreds of civilians who could be dealing with the same torture. This is how the Biden regime treats combat veterans, as criminals, as domestic terrorists. We are working to free more of them.”

I'm sure we will hear about other experiences like this as the turmoil continues to unravel in our country. These sick fμcks think they are untouchable. I got news for you the deplorables will get the last say.🤔 I did not get any information about the perpetrators involved in these horrendous acts. My gut feeling is, they were executed on the spot.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hello! Anon here who requested the Negan father/ daughter request. “Freed” as in after the whole whispers thing. He walking Alexandria freely?

I love this but it's so hard for me to write dad!negan since I think he's so hot LMAO. I also don't remember the original request so I went with just a day in the life fic lmao I'm so sorry it's been rough over here.

"Have you been acclimating?" I ask, handing my jug of water to my dad who sits down beside me on the bench with a huff. We've been working all day, trying to repair what the Whisperers had taken from us, slowly restoring our community to what it was before them and before the storms that have passed through within the winter months.

My breath fogs in the cold air as my dad thinks for a moment, eyes flickering around to look at our work before giving me a stern shrug.

"You mean have people finally stopped trying to kill my ass?" He teases, bumping me with his shoulder with a smirk which only pulls an eye roll from me.

It took him nearly killing everyone good in the world and me finally finding my first group of civilization since the world has ended for us to be reunited and, though I didn't imagine it being from behind bars, it was relieving to be reunited with him.

It was heartbreaking to learn of all the havoc he created with the assumed knowledge that I was dead and it was even harder to find out that my mom had died and that it wasn't from cancer. He ended up working on himself, from within the tiny cell, just to be able to gain the trust of Michonne and others on the council.

Though, I know a lot of it had to do with my presence.

"Lydia's taken a liking to you." I wave at the brunette from across the yard, sending her a small smile as she sucks in a breath, giving my dad a nod of acknowledgement.

I can only imagine how losing her mom has effected her, especially given the fact that she was a murderous bitch and would've rather seen Lydia dead than in the hands of people who actually cared for her. Maybe, down the line, her and I will bond over our loss of a parent and the unfortunate villain arc of another.

"Yeah well, I do sort of have father figure energy don't I?" He chuckles, shoving his shovel into the ground before sucking down the rest of my water.

"Judith thinks so too." She's not easy to sway, that one. She's hard to trust people, especially since it seems that everyone close to her has just seemed to evaporate as time goes on but there's some comfort that my dad was able to offer her, even when he was teaching her math from within his jail cell. "Which is kind of ironic given her dad literally dedicated years to hating you." He reaches out to immediately shove me, eyes rolling at my teasing but, even though I'm taunting him and he loves it, he knows it's true.

"That was before I was the hero a few times, kid. Gotta cut me some slack." He blows into his hands, desperately trying to warm them up as I send him a soft smile, knowing that he's slowly trying to redeem himself after all of the years of pain and torment that he's caused- pain and torment my ten year old self would never imagine he'd be capable of.

"I'm really surprised it took the world ending for you to serve hard time, old man."

"Oh shut up."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Day 10 - Collar

Hehehe this is a sequel to day 5!!

Ping list: @ailesswhumptober, @whumperofworlds, @whump-captain

TWs: Collars, electrocution, dehumanization, kidnapping

As soon as the car was stopped, the door opened and Mariano was hauled up and out into the whispering fall breeze. A little house surrounded by quiet, empty land greeted him. The once-cheery yellow paint had faded long ago, and the shingles of the roof had gotten jostled by time and wind and storms.

Tommy tugged Mariano along, a hand gripping his bicep just too hard. "Okay. If you don't try any stupid shit, we'll let you go when everything dies down." Tommy's keys jingled as he got the door open.

Mariano didn't quite believe him.

The living room was in shambles. The wallpaper was peeling and the windows were filmy. The lights were off, and the carpet was torn and stained with what had to be blood. A tattered couch sat against a wall, with a rusted dog kennel next to it that served as a side table.

That had to be what they'd been discussing in the car. Jasper and Darrel entered after them, breathing a sigh of relief as the front door shut behind them. "We'll hide the car in a little bit," Jasper said, flopping down onto the couch. "Darrel, go get the collar. We need to get everything set now before we get tired."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Darrel grumbled, wandering down a dark hallway.

Mariano swallowed. "I won't try to make an escape." He tried. "You can just keep an eye on me."

Jasper rolled his eyes, standing back up to get in Mariano's face. "You think we're idiots?"

Yes, he did. "No--no. I just...I don't want to cause trouble. I saw your guns. I can behave."

"Then we won't have a problem." Jasper accepted a collar from Darrel, reaching up to snap it closed around Mariano's neck. "This way, we can make sure you won't actually go anywhere." He took the remote from Darrel next, holding it up for Mariano to see as he turned it up to the highest strength. "Now. Give us your hands so we can cuff you properly."

Mariano raised his hands, still secured palm-to-palm by the leather belt. He watched as Jasper unwound it, gripping his wrists once he was freed. Mariano could tell that Jasper didn’t really work out. He could probably get free, could probably take the remote. 

It didn’t seem like the best idea, though. They hadn’t hurt him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t tense, didn’t struggle as his wrists were brought behind him and the belt was wound them again. “Good.” Jasper said, fastening the buckle. “Now, on your knees.”

Mariano felt dread crawling through his chest as he obeyed and two fingers hooked under the collar at the back of his neck. “Good.” Jasper almost purred this time as he started leading Mariano to the cage. “Maybe you’ll get out of this without us having to be too rough. Remember: we don’t wanna kill you if we don’t have to, so just behave.”

Mariano knew the stakes. Maybe he could make a break for it later that night--he'd run a marathon before, it wouldn't be terrible. Mariano nodded. Jasper shoved him forward. “Good, get in.” 

Mariano crawled forward on his knees, lowering himself down to get into the tiny space. It was large enough for something like a collie, Mariano thought as he tried to find a comfortable way to exist in the cage. It was not large enough for someone six feet tall with shoulders like his. He’d be lucky to even be able to lie down properly on the hard plastic liner. 

He watched as Jasper and Darrel and Tommy worked through the next steps of their…plan? They brought the money they’d gotten inside, starting to count up their spoils. He didn’t want to tell them to be careful of dye packs in the money–they’d find out about that themselves.

He knelt on the floor of the cage, shoulders already starting to ache, as the thousands were counted up between Jasper and Tommy. He almost hoped they took something in the six figure range–the jail sentence for armed robbery and kidnapping wouldn’t be worth it otherwise. Jasper just started looking more and more frustrated as they started to run out of bundles of bills. 

“What do you mean we only got thirty grand?” He snarled at Tommy. 

Tommy didn’t back down, growling back. “Well maybe we would’ve gotten more if someone hadn’t decided to take a hostage!” He motioned violently towards Mariano. “You’d barely gotten anything when you grabbed him.”

“Well what are we gonna do about it?” Jasper barked back. “We can’t just let him go.”

Darrel thought for a moment. “What about a ransom?”

Tommy and Jasper paused. They looked at each other, then Darrel, then all three looked at Mariano. He didn’t like that. 

“We just need to send a ransom video, right? Some sorta demand?” Tommy asked. “We could do that, yeah.” 

The collar felt even heavier around Mariano’s neck as Jasper picked up the remote. “Yeah,” Jasper said. “We can do that. Rough him up, get some footage of him being shocked. Just look at him. Someone’s gonna be willing to pay to get him back.”

The three pairs of eyes roamed over Mariano. It was almost flattering. He supposed his sweater and bright jeans and glasses chain really sold the "normal guy" look. Mariano wanted to laugh anyway.

Someone would pay to get him back, yes, but it wouldn’t work out how they wanted. If they were lucky, the police would get involved. If they weren’t, Bastian would decide to show up. And if they were even unluckier, the war mages would be pulled into the situation. For their sake, he hoped the police showed up to negotiate--maybe a SWAT team barging in would be nostalgic.

Tommy pulled out his phone, though, and glanced around the room at the lighting. “Yeah, we can work with this. Let’s go downstairs though, the concrete will be easier to clean up and look scarier.” Mariano’s stomach dropped. 

“I think we still have those extension cables around here somewhere.” Jasper said. “Those’d make a decent whip. Let’s see how bad this collar is, too. See if it’ll be good for the camera.” 

Mariano swallowed hard, barely able to take a breath before Jasper pressed the button, watching him curiously. Heat raced through Mariano’s neck and a strangled noise was wrenched from him. He jolted, head knocking against the rusted bars of the cage. 

Mariano dropped to the floor of the cage as he writhed, struggling to take a breath. It kept ripping through him, threatening to dislocate his shoulders from how it forced his biceps to flex and twist. Across the room, he heard Jasper laugh as the collar turned off again.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s perfect. C'mon, help me haul the cage to the basement.”

[beardedmrbean]

Here's some interesting news for you : https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-69008577.amp

What's a bit chilling is that it happened literally ten minutes after I went through that exact toll booth on my way to work. It's not every day that your very tiny city of a thousand people makes international news, sucks that it had to be for something like this though.

Maybe if the fucking toll booths worked properly this wouldn't have happened

Two French prison officers have been killed in an ambush on a prison van near Rouen in Normandy.

Prisoner Mohamed Amra - known as "The Fly" - was being taken from court to a prison when a car rammed the prison van at a toll booth.

Gunmen then opened fire at prison officers, with two officers killed and two critically injured.

Several hundred police officers and gendarmes have been deployed to carry out a manhunt.

French President Emmanuel Macron wrote on X that "everything is being done to find the perpetrators".

Prosecutors identified the inmate who was freed as Mohamed Amra, born in 1994.

Amra was convicted of burglary on 10 May and had been indicted by prosecutors in Marseille for a kidnapping that led to a death.

Who is escaped French prisoner Mohamed Amra?

The 30-year-old inmate is said to have ties to a gang in the southern city of Marseille, which has been plagued by drug-related gang violence.

At the time of the ambush which led to his escape he was being transported back to jail in the town of Évreux after attending a morning court hearing in Rouen.

The ambush took place around 11:00 (09:00 GMT) near a toll booth on the A154 motorway.

The officers were shot with "heavy weapons" by the prisoner's accomplices, according to French Justice Minister Eric Dupond-Moretti.

The attackers escaped in a car which police believe they have now recovered, abandoned near the toll gate where the attack happened.

Roadblocks have been set up across north-west France, with police following up on every tip-off.

Speaking to the media following a crisis unit meeting, Mr Dupond-Moretti confirmed that two officers had died.

"One leaves behind a wife and two children who were meant to celebrate their 21st birthday in two days. The other leaves a wife who is five months pregnant," he said.

"Everything - and I mean everything - will be put in place to find the perpetrators of this vile crime," Mr Dupond-Moretti said, adding that the perpetrators were "people for whom life has no value".

They would be found and punished "in a way that is proportionate to the crime", he said. ____________________

>punished "in a way that is proportionate to the crime"

y'all don't have capital punishment, so not sure what that would be at this point, I do hope they get them though

[thecrimecrypt]

Crimes That Shook Britain (Wales)

Murder of Rebecca Aylward On 25 October 2010, Rebecca Aylward, 15, awoke on 6am, did her make-up, put on new clothes. She was excited about meeting ex-boyfriend Joshua Davies, 16, hoping they'd rekindle their relationship.

But Davies hated Rebecca. With mates he met on Sundays for breakfast, he'd discussed ways to kill her - poisoning, drowning, pushing her off a cliff.

In the end, that rainy morning, Davies lured her to secluded woods near Aberkenfig, Bridgend, and hit her over the head with a rock. Rebecca's distraught family reported her missing and her body was found the next day.

And Joshua Davies was arrested. His murder trial heard he'd killed Rebecca over a bet for a free breakfast. A mate had said he'd buy him a 'Full English' if he carried out his threats. Davies was convicted, jailed for life to serve a minimum term of 14 years in prison.

In 2018, Davies finally admitted to the murder to prison officers.

Murder of Karen Price In 1989, workmen found a rolled-up carpet while digging up a garden in Cardiff's Riverside area. Inside were the remains of a girl. Forensic experts made a clay reconstruction of the girl's head, identifying her as Karen Price, 15, who'd disappeared from a children's home in July 1981.

Back then, the basement flat where her body had been found was occupied by Alan Charlton. In 1991, Charlton and another man, Idris Ali - accused of being Karen's pimp - were convicted of her murder.

The trial heard that Charlton had killed Karen when she refused to perform sex acts, while Ali helped bury her body. In 1994, Ali successfully appealed, pleaded guilty to manslaughter at his retrial, and was freed. Charlton has made several appeals against his conviction. All have been dismissed and he remains in jail.

Ian Watkins In December 2012, Ian Watkins - lead singer of award-winning band Lostprophets, with 3.5m album sales worldwide - was arrested on charges of child abuse.

As the case unfolded, horrifying details emerged Watkins seduced female fans he met online and manipulated them until they allowed him to use their children to fulfil his depraved sex fantasies.

In November 2013, Watkins was jailed for 35 years after admitting a string of child sex offenses, including attempted rape of a baby and sexually abusing children His two co-defendants - the two mothers of children he abused - were jailed for 14 and 17 years. The judge Mr Justice Royce, said the case 'plunged into new depths of depravity.'

Murder of April Jones April Jones, just 5 years old, disappeared on 1 October 2012, while playing on her bike near her home in Machynlleth, Wales.

April's friend said she'd willingly got into a car with a man. Her hysterical parents Coral and Paul called the police, sparking the largest search in UK policing history. Within hours, media appeals were made and April's photo hit global news.

Police set up roadblocks, hundreds of volunteers searched and, the next evening, local Mark Bridger, 46, was arrested. The desperate search for April continued. After five days, Bridger was charged with April's abduction and murder. Her body was never found.

At Bridger's April 2013 trial, it emerged that tiny burnt bone pieces were found in his fireplace, and that blood in his cottage living room matched April's DNA. Bridger was convicted of abducting and murdering April and jailed for life.

Murder of Ffion Wyn Roberts Ffion Wyn Roberts' body was found in a drainage ditch behind her Porthmadog home in April 2010. She'd last been seen alive enjoying a night out with family and friends.

Detectives launched a massive murder hunt and, eight weeks later, arrested local lestyn Davies at his workplace, a wool factory close to Ffion's home. Davies was known to Ffion's family.

Davies' murder trial heard he'd attacked Ffion, 22, as she made her way home. He'd beaten her, strangled her with her own scarf and left the care worker to drown in the ditch. DNA traces were found on the scarf and Davies was captured on CCTV in the area at the time she was killed. He was found guilty, jailed for life, with a minimum 25-year term.

John Cooper In December 1985, farmer Richard Thomas, 58, and his sister Helen, 56, were shot dead, and their home near Milford Haven set alight. In June 1989, couple Peter and Gwenda Dixon, 51 and 52, were shot dead on a coastal path. They'd been tied up and robber, Gwenda sexually assaulted.

Then, in March 1996, five Milford Haven teens were held at gunpoint. One girl, 16, was raped at knifepoint, another, 15, indecently assaulted. Police long suspected a local convicted burglar, John Cooper, who was finally charged in 2011 on a review of DNA evidence.

Convicted of four murders, five attempted robberies, rape and indecent assault, he was given a whole-life sentence. An appeal against the conviction was rejected in 2012.

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 6 - Ring

This gave me Dragonsong War thoughts, and this is a scene I've actually wanted to write out for awhile. Twintania, sorry your mom has decided to stay in jail.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

Following Midgardsormr’s directions, Kito carefully crossed the the latest island on Azys Lla. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see, but he knew it the moment he saw it. Or rather her, for a deep green great wyrm sat ahead of him bound in Allagan chains.

At the very same moment he gasped, a voice cried out in his mind causing him to stumble.

Mother!

Kito had almost forgotten about Twintania. He’d freed the ancient wyvern from allagan control, but his poorly channeled magic has caused their souls to bind together. She had immediately expressed her distaste at the situation and disappeared, sequestering herself in her own corner of their shared mind space, only offering the occasional remark on the Dragonsong War. Mostly to call Kito’s quest to end it futile.

The sight of the great wyrm had drawn Twintania’s attention though, and for the first time since they’d met her feelings were exposed to him. A chaotic mix of worry and anger that wasn’t his own swirled into Kito’s mind so intensely it took him a moment to separate out his own thoughts.

He hadn’t realized until this moment, but Twintania was actually nearby. Even as he approached the bound wyrm, the ancient wyvern came soaring up from beneath the island to land nearby.

“You were here?” he asked her.

She did not answer out loud, but rather projected her thoughts to him again.

I told thee after the death of Nidhogg. I have been watching thee. Thy words may yet be more than idle hope if thou canst withstand thy final trial.

Out loud, this wasn’t acknowledged at all. Instead Twintania cried out to the green dragon in Dravanian.

“Mother! Canst thou not break thy chains? Thy children still soar these skies without purpose, awaiting thy call!”

The great wyrm - Tiamat, Kito somehow knew without knowing - stared at the two of them for a long moment.

“Twintania, my child…” Tiamat mused. 

Before she could finish whatever thought she had, Midgardsormr revealed himself as well, pulling Tiamat’s attention entirely.

“Father? Can it truly be you?” she asked in surprise, looking at the tiny form the father of dragons had taken.

“None other. My form is such that I might journey with Hydaelyn’s chosen. A mortal who desireth to end the war between man and dragon” Midgardsormr assured her.

“A fool’s errand” Twintania grumbled, pointedly looking away.

But Tiamat mused on the idea, mulling over the tragedy of how they still fought so long after her war with Allag. Resolved, the great wyrm decided to tell her tale. And so she told Kito the tale of dragonkind. How Migardsormr had crossed the great expanse with only his seven eggs. How her and the six other great wyrms would hatch from those eggs and spread out across the world. How she and Bahamut had settled south in Meracydia, and had their own brood.

“Of which I am one of the eldest remaining” Twintania offered.

Kito wasn’t sure if she’d decided to join out of a genuine desire to tell him, or out of respect for the older dragons with them.

The story continued into the war against Allag, how Bahamut was slain along with thousands of their children. Memories from Twintania’s mind flashed unbidden into Kito’s thoughts, moments full of violence and bloodshed, moments where dragons fell from the sky never to fly again. 

And of course, the summoning of the elder primal in Bahamut’s image. Summoned by a grief stricken Tiamat convinced by the Ascians he could be brought back. It was the Ascians that were the real threat after all. Tiamat was adamant the conflict wouldn’t end unless the Ascians were vanquished.

A depressing silence covered the group until Midgardsormr broke it.

“It hath been five thousand years my child. Wilt thou not forgive thyself?”

“Please mother. Our kin wish to fly with thee again” Twintania pleaded.

Kito could sense her desperation. Her mind showed him a lack of purpose. Dragons that flew the skies aimlessly, a sadness ringing in their songs. 

But Tiamat’s guilt was too great. She didn’t want to be freed.

Kito wanted to comfort Twintania, but before he could, he was pulled into a vision.

At last, Hydaelyn restored his blessing of light.

Twintania knew what had occurred instantly, recognizing it from the strange way they were connected.

“Father’s wall hath been shattered. Hydaelyn is with thee once more” she noted with a curious tilt of her head.

“Strong art thou mortal - stronger than any other of thy kind. Thou art worthy to bear her light” Midgardsormr nodded in agreement.

“Thou art certain?” Twintania asked.

“Decide for thyself. Thou art bound to his heart and mind. Cast away thine own suffering and see him as he is” Midgardsormr advised.

Twintania stared at Kito for a long moment, shifting through his emotions and thoughts curiously. He let her do so, wanting her to see he really meant what he said about ending the war. He wanted to break this cycle that had killed so many.

Dost thou understand the burden thou beareth? The hope of my kin and thine? And thou still art convinced thou canst break this circle? Twintania asked him privately in their shared thoughts.

I’m the Warrior of Light. It’s what I do. This has to end here. Kito answered her back.

“I shalt offer thee my wings. Put thy conviction to the proof, and thou mayest yet earn my claws” Twintania decided.

Migardsormr disappeared with an approving nod. Twintania crouched down and allowed Kito to climb on her back. The two of them took flight towards the center of Azys Lla, where Thordan awaited them.

They flew as one, burning with hope that maybe this cycle can finally be broken.

[jdgo51]

DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR JUNE 23, 2023

A New Man

By Christopher King (Delaware, USA)

READ 2 CORINTHIANS 5:16-21

If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature.

2 CORINTHIANS 5:17 (KJV)

"In the spring of 2009 I hit rock bottom. Many times in my years of alcohol and drug abuse I thought that I had reached my lowest point, but they paled in comparison. This time I found myself in a tiny jail cell with no one left to turn to. With nothing to lose, I sank to my knees and prayed in total desperation. I begged God to forgive me for the way I had lived my life and asked God to show me a better way.

Soon after that prayer, God’s love became real for me. I received treatment I had desperately needed for years and finally was delivered from the desire to use alcohol and drugs. People I had hurt despite their love for me began to return to my life. God started to open new doors for me, and I was able to see how I could use my experiences to help others who were suffering as I once had.

Today I am a new man in Christ. Although I am still serving time for crimes I committed while on drugs, my relationship with God is unwavering. I go to God each day, asking God to use me as a vessel of divine love. Through me God has been able to change lives. I remain a witness to God’s amazing grace."' Draw close to God and allow Him to use your life to benefit others. He will gladly take you up on the deal and begin using you daily.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"For your forgiveness, my God, I thank you. For the new life you are always ready to give, I thank you. For your love that never leaves me alone, I thank you." Amen.

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

"16 So then, from this point on we won’t recognize people by human standards. Even though we used to know Christ by human standards, that isn’t how we know him now. 17 So then, if anyone is in Christ, that person is part of the new creation. The old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived! 18 All of these new things are from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and who gave us the ministry of reconciliation. 19 In other words, God was reconciling the world to himself through Christ, by not counting people’s sins against them. He has trusted us with this message of reconciliation. 20 So we are ambassadors who represent Christ. God is negotiating with you through us. We beg you as Christ’s representatives, “Be reconciled to God!” 21 God caused the one who didn’t know sin to be sin for our sake so that through him we could become the righteousness of God." Were are reconciled to God through Christ the son. His act of love has freed us to be a part of the kingdom. Step ahead today and make a huge difference. Bless you! Joe

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Two: The Perfect Partner Project

Warning!: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing. Please keep scrolling if that’s not for you. 💜

Summary: After you’re freed from Dreykov’s control you team up with Yelena and Natasha to take down the red room.

Chapter One : Chemical Subjugation

“I thought you had a jet?” Yelena cocks her head to the side, as you approach the decrepit helicopter.

“I asked for one.” Natasha mutters, under her breath.

“This isn’t a jet.” You add, the closer you get, the worse it becomes.

“I realize that!” The man who’d been standing with his back to you whips around to defend himself. This must be Natasha’s friend. “But you know what you didn’t give me? Time. Or money. I’m not made of jets.”

“Aww, he’s sensitive.” Yelena coos, “I see why you keep him around.”

“I’m not sensitive.” He protests.

“Of course not,” you smirk.

“Listen you-“ he breaks off. “Who are you again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Yelena introduces you, climbing aboard. “She’s my partner….” She shrugs, “you name it really.”

“Partner works.” You chuckle, joining her in the cockpit.

“If you say so,” Yelena waves a dismissive hand. Getting a feel for the controls.

“Wonderful,” the man acknowledges your title.

“Thanks for the ride, Dick.” You salute him through the front window.

“It’s Rick,” he calls back.

“I know.” You give him a thumbs up. Waiting until he turns back to his conversation with Natasha. Taking the opportunity to lean down, kissing the top of Yelena’s head.

She cranes her head back to see you.

You nuzzle your nose against hers, until an exaggeration throat clearing tears you apart.

“We don’t have time for this.” Natasha, of course.

Yelena scowls at her, “yeah, yeah.”

Breaking Alexei out of a maximum security prison using only an earpiece, stowed inside of an action figure is a terrible plan. Nearly as bad as using him for information on how to locate a facility that’s impossible to find, run by a man who’s too slippery to kill.

That doesn’t stop you though. Generally speaking it’s going well. Until one of Yelena’s shots triggers an avalanche.

“Woah.” She marvels at the scene before you, her masterpiece. “Now this would be a cool way to die.”

“Yeah,” you holler back, sarcastically, over the chaos.

“You were getting no where with your tiny guns.” Yelena points out.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” you remind her.

“Fast is better. Solves problems.”

“And clearly creates new ones.” You jerk your chin toward the mountain.

“Get us out of here!” Natasha’s voice blares through the headset.

“I’m on it.” Yelena assures her. Moving into a better position for extraction. “Watch the side window.”

At her request you shuffle to the main ship. The prison guards are still putting up a fight. Inmates running in every direction.

“Alright, Natasha’s with us.” You confirm, once she’s secured her place on the black hanging rope. “Circle between the walls on your left to grab Alexei.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Yelena snarks, steering the plane away from another explosion.

“You’re doing a great job.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Fine,” you huff. “The spot is tight and the angle is bad. I don’t know how you’re gonna pull this off.”

Yelena is silent, processing the information. “Lie to me a little.” She amends.

“You got this.” The blinding wall of white threatens to swallow Alexei whole. You’re holding your breath too as the rope moves past the metal bridge he’s standing on.

“Well?” She yelps, impatiently.

“I don’t know. I can’t see.” Once the snow and ice clears, you spot two figures carefully scaling the rope. “Yelena?”

“Hmm.” She hums, expecting the worst.

“I knew you had it.”

“Yes,” Yelena sighs, before falling into easy laughter. More invested in this than she will ever admit.

————————————————————-

Unfortunately, entertaining as Alexei may be, he has next to no information about Dreykov.

Instead he drawls on and on about how the man wronged him. Stuck him on that “boring mission” in Ohio. Then tossed him in jail and threw away the key because of…hair? A party?

You weren’t entirely sure. You excuse yourself to the vacant seat beside Yelena. Giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Full lips twitch up into a grin.

“Tell us where the red room is.” Natasha grumbles.

“I have no idea!” He shouts, and then in Russian. “Why don’t you ask Melina?”

“Mom Melina?” Yelena whips her head around.

“We thought she was dead.”

“You cannot kill a fox that swift,” Alexei sucks in a breath.

You choke on your own saliva.

“Ew.” Natasha winces.

“What?” The man shrugs. “She was the master mind. His architect.”

“Are you telling me that Melina works for the red room present day?” Natasha leans closer.

“Yes,” he nods. “Remotely, outside Saint Petersburg.”

“I don’t think we have enough fuel for Saint Petersburg.” Yelena decides, after checking the needle on the gauge.

“We’ll make it.” Alexei waves away her concern.

“Ok,” Yelena mutters.

You look over at her.

“We’re not going to make it.” She mouths, with a shake of her head.

You smirk, closing your eyes and relaxing into the seat. It’ll be nice while it lasts.

Before long you’re falling into a controlled crash, at the Saint Petersburg city limit.

“So,” Yelena jumps out onto the dirt. “Are we there yet?”

“No, you will know when we are there.” Alexei begins snorting like a pig.

——————————————————————-

You take a seat in the chair opposite Yelena inside Melina’s humble abode. Her pigs can be heard carrying on out in the yard and Alexei’s early snorting makes perfect sense now.

Your eyes dart around the three women at the table uncomfortably as noises continue erupting from the bathroom. “Everything alright in there?” You bellow, loud enough for your voice to carry down the hallway.

Another groan is the only response.

“Let’s drink,” Melina’s voice breaks the tension. She fills each of your shot glasses in turn.

“Thanks,” you raise the clear liquid and toss it back. Feeling it burn it’s way down your throat before going back for another.

After a moment a clunking from the doorway calls your attention.

“It still fits.” Alexei announces, having stuffed himself into his old costume.

Melina whistles, with a slow clasp as he approaches the seat at the head of the table. “I never washed it once. Come eat.”

He hums a tune under his breath, reliving days gone by. “Look at us, family back together again.” If you didn’t know better you’d think it was sweet, he seems…happy.

“Well,” Melina swallows, dishing mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Seeing as our family construct was just a calculated ruse that only lasted three years, I’m not sure we can use this term anymore.”

“Agreed,” Natasha perks up. “So here’s what’s going to happen-“

“Reunion then.” Alexei offers instead. “I want to say something right off the bat.” He says to the woman who’d once been his wife. “You haven’t aged a day. Just as beautiful and supple as the day they staged our marriage.”

Melina moves closer, “you got fat, but still good.”

“I just got out of prison,” he confesses, “I have a lot of energy.”

“Ooohooo.” The older woman exhales.

You can’t help the bubble of laughter that forces its way from your chest. Covering your mouth with your hand as Yelena takes another shot.

“Please don’t do that.” Beside you Natasha looks physically ill as she protests. Swallowing down her disgust she begins again. “So listen. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

“Natasha don’t slouch. You’re going to get a back hunch.” Melina flicks her fork in Natasha’s direction.

“What? I’m not slouching? I don’t slouch.”

“Eh, listen to your mother. Up! Up!” Alexei joins in.

“I told you, I don’t want any food.” Yelena pushes her plate away.

“Eat a little something Yelena, for God’s sake.” Melina says, piling food onto her plate.

Yelena groans.

“Are you kidding me? Stop it all of you. This is ridiculous.” Natasha bites out.

“Me? I didn’t do anything. That’s not fair!” Yelena argues.

“It’s true, she’s just sitting there.” You shrug.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Natasha roars, effectively silencing the room. “You’re going to give us the location of the red room.”

Melina purses her lips, avoiding the topic. “It’s like when you told them they could stay up to catch Santa Claus.”

“That was fun!” Alexei recalls. “Look out girls, he comes down the chimney. And when the cookies are gone you know he is there.”

Melina clicks her tongue.

“What? I want them to follow their dreams, shoot for the stars girls.”

“No good.” Melina disagreed.

“Killing Dreykov isn’t a fantasy. It’s unfinished business.” Natasha looks between the two of them.

“You cannot defeat someone who commands the very will of others.” Melina says, softly. “You never got to see the culmination of what we started in America. After the perfect partner project was rejected, we took a different route.”

“The perfect partner project?” You repeat, racking your brain. You’ve heard that somewhere before.

“Why’d Dreykov scrap the project?” Natasha’s voice cracks like a whip.

“I don’t know.” Melina’s eyes dart down to her plate.

You can see that she’s lying.

“That’s when we turned our focus to chemical subjugation.” Melina continues, “the control is so profound that when the subject is instructed to stop breathing. They have no choice but to obey.”

Yelena shakes her head. Perfect lips turned into a frown. Hazel eyes glistening with tears as they meet your own.

“That’s enough.” You warn the older woman, seeing the expression. The last thing you want to do is cause her anymore pain.

“No.” The blonde insists. “Tell me more about the partner project.”

“Yelena, we don’t have to do this.” You shake your head.

“Yes, we do.” Yelena slams her fist against the table in frustration.

“The extraction was messy to start. A high profile missing children’s case in North America. But the bond was very strong. Enhanced through targeted conditioning and subliminal messages. Until something happened that Dreykov did not anticipate.”

“What happened?” Natasha wonders.

“The girls became…attached.” Melina’s mouth twitches, “so they were separated.”

“Do you know who they tested on?”

Melina’s guilty eyes land on you. “I am sorry.”

“No,” you suspected, maybe. Somewhere in the back of your mind. You spent the first six months in the red room under solitary confinement. Rapidly and rigorously conditioned in a matter of weeks instead of years. Preparing you…for her. The teenager girl you couldn’t stand, the woman you eventually came to love.

“You,” Yelena laughs, although it’s not particularly funny. “Us.”

“Yelena-“ you reach for her hand across the table.

“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t tell me that it will be ok. They stole your life because of me. I never asked them to do that. I never asked for you!”

“I know.” You assure her. None of this was ever her fault.

“That’s right, because you know everything. Don’t you, Y/N?” Yelena scoffs, her hands balling into fists on either side of her dinner plate. “You know what I think. You know what I feel. Look at you. Ready to come out of your own skin because I am unhappy. Prepared to move mountains, prepared to start wars.”

“Like you’re any better.” You challenge, she knows you like the back of her hand.

“That is my point!”

“I’m sorry that this happened.” Alexei interrupts. Surely gearing up for a ‘father of the year’ speech. “But we are here now. All together! Wasn’t that worth a few years of-“

“Shut up!” Natasha growls at him. “You are an idiot.”

No response.

She moves her attention to Melina, “and you’re a coward. You’re a coward. And our family was never real. So there’s nothing to hold on to. We’re moving on.”

“Never family, huh?” Alexei throws up his hands. “In my heart I am simple man. For a couple deep undercover Russian agents I think we did pretty great as parents.”

“Yes,” Melina nods her agreement. “We had our orders and we played our roles to perfection.”

“Who cares? That wasn’t real.”

“What?” Yelena’s voice breaks.

“That wasn’t real.” Natasha repeats for emphasis. “Who cares?”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. It was real. It was real to me. You are my mother!” Yelena all but sobs. “You are my real mother, the closest thing I ever had to one. The best parts of my life were fake.” She pauses, drawing in a steadying breath. “And none of you told me.”

You swipe at the tear that escapes your eye. Traitorously running it’s way down your cheek. It was never fake. Perhaps arranged, but never fake. The way you want to wrap her up in your arms, protect her from her own sadness. The way your heart breaks in time with hers. That is real. It has to be.

She turns back to the woman who she considered a mother. “Those agents that you chemically subjugated around the globe…that was me too.”

Finally she addresses Natasha, “and you. You got out. It is impossible to escape. Are you going to say anything?” A pause. “No.”

She pushes her chair from the table, taking the bottle with her as she stands. Turning her back in the four of you.

“Yelena.” Natasha calls after her. Guilt eating away from the inside out.

“No.” Yelena dismisses her a second time. Moving into the next room and closing the glass doors behind her.

You look down at the plate of food in front of you, now lacking any appeal.

“I had no idea.” Melina whispers, wringing her hands.

“I’ll go to talk to her.” Alexei offers, rising to his feet.

“About what?” You hum, “how you handed her over to a life of pain and suffering at the age of six? How you experimented on her? How you didn’t come back for her? Yeah. I’m sure that’s just what she needs right now.”

With that you excuse yourself, back out to the front yard. Slowly circling the perimeter of Melina’s cottage. Not looking for anything in particular. Just killing time until someone produces information about how to get to Dreykov.

The blinding light that appears moments later catches you off guard. A team of men exit one of the three circling planes. Since you couldn’t find the red room, this is the next best thing.

—————————————————————

Waking up is disorienting, coming to from a tranquilizer always is. It’s bright, almost blindingly so. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You attempt to use your hands to cover them, only you can’t move your hands.

Leaning up as much as your restraints will allow you discover that you’re strapped to an operating table. And you’re not alone.

“Yelena?”

“Miss American Pie,” she drawls from a similar position. Neither of which gives you much chance to escape whatever fate awaits.

“You’re not allowed to die mad at me,” you grumble.

“I’m not mad at you.” She blinks slowly, as the surgeon marks a clean line at the perimeter of her hairline. “I’m just mad.”

“Yeah,” you let out a laugh, turning back to the light above the gurney. “Me too.”

“You are my perfect partner.” She murmurs, while gloved hands busy themselves with preparations. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Acceptance…peace. “I love you, you know.”

At this Yelena smiles. A genuine, happy, smile. “I know.”

Something to remember her by.

The syringe at your neck releases a sedative into your blood and you fall asleep. One last time.

—————————————————————

Dying is peaceful, gently rocking in the ocean. Then swaying more violently, giving you the urge to be seasick. Your body should move with the force of it. But something holds you steady, something warm.

“Yelena?” You croak.

“Not quite, but there is resemblance, huh?” A different voice greets you.

“Alexei?” You realize, pushing yourself into a sitting position.

“That’s a girl, up you go.” He says, clapping a hand against your back.

“What happened?” You ask, “where’s Yelena?”

“Still inside,” Melina confirms. “Brought you here so you’d be safe.”

“Natasha?”

“They’re coming.”

You sigh, ready to jump out the open door of the hovering chopper.

“What are you doing?” Alexei demands.

“Going to find them.”

“Wait! Y/N, wait.” He pleads. “There’s something I must tell you. I tried to tell Yelena but I don’t have earpiece.”

“What?” Your brows furrow.

“Never mind that.” He shakes his head. “The point, is you were right. What you said about Yelena. We complete our mission, we move on. But losing her, losing my girls is my biggest regret.”

“I’ll tell her, don’t worry.” You give his shoulder a squeeze.

“Please let me finish.” He stops you again. “She carried your unconscious body through burning building, through explosions. This is not easy, you are very heavy.”

“Oh, Alexei!” Melina scolds him.

“Not that.” He amends, “you know what I mean. It is dead weight.”

You nod, “sure.”

“I look at you together and I see true love and I am happy. You are family now, and this time…we are going to stay together. We’re not leaving without you.” The older man says, helping you onto the metal grate of the falling red room.

Not a second later an explosion rings through your ears, sending Melina, Alexei and your get away vehicle spiraling to the ground.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you’ll make a new plan.

You run toward the flames and gunfire. “Yelena!” You call out, searching the surrounding area.

“Y/N,” Natasha finds you. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t find Yelena.”

“I thought she was with you.” The woman frowns.

“Well she wasn’t!” You bite out, fear and frustration getting the best of you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. You go-“ the red head pauses. Her eyes focused on something behind your head.

You turn to follow Natasha’s gaze. Finding her. Yelena. The wild, unpredictable, firecracker of a woman. On the wing of the jet with Dreykov inside.

“Yelena! Stop!” You rush over, realizing what she’s about to do. Her staff poised at the propeller.

She pauses at the sound of your voice.

“He’s not worth it.” No one is worth it. Not when she is the cost.

Yelena smiles, eyes alight with mischief, “I love you, you know.”

“I know.”

Natasha tries to reason with her. “Don’t do it!”

“This was fun.” Yelena tells her sister, jamming the propeller and effectively destroying Dreykov’s jet. The force of the explosions sends her backwards, hurtling towards the ground with the remaining pieces of the red room.

“Put your pack on and jump.” Natasha tells you. Rushing for the nearest parachute. “I’m going to save my sister.” She dives head first over the edge, without putting on her harness.

“Not if I get there first,” you challenge. This would be a cool way to die.

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

[old-congratzams]

endeavor x fem reader with a Kitty Cheshire quirk (neko with ability to teleport) plot: reader super low Grade villain that love to start trouble and teleport away but endeavor catches her she can’t teleport away and endeavor teaches her a lesson nsfw 😺

aaa, i hope this is good! i feel like it’s a lil bit rushed but maybe it’s just my self criticism kicking in asdhaskfhsf thanks so much for requestingggg

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰. 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of blood, size difference, smutty smut, blowjob, cum eating, cat girl idk how to tag this one hadhsdhf

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓. I can’t control what you guys choose to read or not but I’d be way more comfortable if minors stayed away from my works. <3

Enji was annoyed. Doing rounds on a night market was always so monotonous because the presence of the number one hero quickly scared the villains and criminals away. But during that night in particular, things escalated quickly and Enji rushed towards the commotion.

"Endeavor, you're here! Do something!"

Chasing a delinquent that stole fish from a nearby stand was nowhere near the number one's ideal job. However, people gathering around and expecting him to do something so simple like going after a low criminal added enough fuel to his irritation and shook his ego.

"Watch this."

He followed the scent of raw fish down the streets and the trail ended in a dark alley. Enji thought he'd seen someone with cat ears and tail but didn't find anyone there, it was like they'd just disappeared right under his nose. And speaking of nose, the scent was back and it was-- behind him!

Enji was quick to grab the criminal by the arm — the first thing his gloved hand could reach. The criminal let out a squeal while in mid-air, a pair of strong hands holding her own behind her back.

"I see. A teleportation quirk, huh?"

Her cat ears twitched by the sound of his deep, dangerous voice. She tried to struggle her way out, free from the arms of the pro hero.

"There's no use, you won't be able to--"

She frenetically fluttered her tail, squirming as anxiety build up in her tummy. It was unfair that a low criminal as her would be caught by the number one himself.

"Tch."

The wiggling tail seemed to annoy Enji even further. Holding the tiny arms in one hand, the other reached for the tail in a firm grasp. The action caused the criminal to inhale deeply and freeze.

Tears gathered on the corner of her dolly eyes and red flushed her cheeks. The hero was oblivious to the fact her tail was very sensitive and any form of rough touch would send waves of warmth to her womb.

"L-Let me go..." Her voice sounded meek and bearing distress. "I'll pay for it-- I promise!!"

The grip on her tail tightened, the incoherent actions increasing Enji's suspicions. "What do you think you’re doing?!"

She gasped when Enji tugged on her tail by accident, instinctively rolling her hips and searching for friction while low moans left her mouth.

The sinful sounds put the hero in alert, his hand securing her arms now reaching for her mouth and his voice now low and threatening. "Do you want people to hear?"

The criminal shook her head even though her mind was clouded with sexual needs. Her nipples were hard as pebbles as seen from her vest.

"S-sir, it's that you're t-touching my tail..."

"Tch. I can't risk you running away."

She breathed heavily, pressed against his chest and her tail still on his hand. A sudden wave of pleasure hit the cat girl, sending shivers all over her body and a loud moan escaping her lips.

Enji pressed the girl against the wall, holding her by her face and squeezing her cheeks. "Are you insane?!? I told you to keep quiet--"

The look of pure lust, gaze lost in heaven and drool dripping from her chin made Enji realize what she meant before. It was impossible for him, a healthy man, to not go hard knowing that he caused that, even if accidentally.

Her tail fluttered, exposing the euphoria she was feeling. Although very embarassed by the situation and quite ashamed, the hero weighted his course of action.

"I'll give you what you want and then you'll turn yourself in," Enji proposed, grabbing the tail and putting it over the line of his cock, stroking both over his hero suit.

The way her eyes rolled to the back of the head and her sharp teeth drew blood from her lips encouraged Enji to continue taking advantage of the criminal. He licked her lips clean from the blood and then pushed his tongue into her small mouth, the size difference adding fuel to the fire.

"Lick it." He pressed the tip of her tail against her lips, to which she complied. "Now touch yourself with it while you suck me off."

She did everything she was told. The wetness from her previous orgasm coated her tail and both her tail and clit were very sensitive to any touch, which sent electrical shocks through her body every time she fluttered it against her small hardened bud.

While she moaned, Enji freed his cock from the suit, pushing it into her mouth. "Watch out for the teeth."

His cock was too big for her mouth so she had to open big and wide to accommodate it. Enji slowly fucked her mouth, not allowing any further than the tip to pass her lips. Her tongue worked hard around it, fluttering against the vein underneath his cock and giving it special attention.

"You probably like milk..." Enji pondered. "If you're a good girl until the end I might reward you with it."

By that suggestion, she licked and sucked eagerly. The tip of her tail fluttered faster on her clit, both sensitive from the filthy pleasure Enji was putting her through. Her tiny hands switched from massaging the base of his cock to toying with his sack.

A disappointed cry left the girl's mouth once Enji pulled his cock out of it. Precum glistened the tip and the girl probably had drunk loads of it. Enji's cock felt sensitive and was ready to shoot cum all over her face but he had other plans for her. It felt decades since he last fucked and the filthy, embarassing situation didn't help at all.

"On your hands and knees, girl."

Her legs were shaking from the heavy stimulus, the ending of her tail covered in her own wetness, but she promptly obeyed the command.

His hand grabbed the tail forcefully, getting it out of his way. The roughness he handled the tail caused the girl's pussy to tighten and dampen the suit even more. Weren't for the piece of clothing, she would be dripping on the alley like she had just wetted herself.

Enji gave each her butt cheeks a light slap, making them jiggle with the impact. He pushed aside the sopping fabric, sighing by the view of her dripping cunt and resisting the urge to plunge in one finger. Instead, he lined up his fat cock against her entrance, responding with a guttural moan by the feeling of her warm velvety pussy sucking him in.

Needless to say, his cock stretched her with ease, the wetness aiding the intrusion. She felt so full while his cock pressed just the right spots, she felt like bursting, she felt--

Enji thrusted in one rapid motion, burying his cock deep into her as soon as he felt her convulsing around him, groaning at how tight she are. He lost control the minute he felt her coming around him, even though he was only halfway through.

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and she spilled all over the hero. Thankfully, his suit was impermeable but the concrete underneath their knees was not.

A hand grabbed her hair while the other remained at the base of her tail, holding her in place while he thrusted into the girl. She couldn't discern if she was so high in ecstasy that his violent thrusts didn't hurt her at all or if Enji was taking such a good care of her that it's not even supposed to hurt. Either way, she knew for sure she'd be sore in the morning — in jail, perhaps.

But she didn't want to think about it while being fucked by the number one himself. His girth and length were massive, and opened her whole. The way he thrusted into her got more erratic and she could feel he was holding back.

“N-no, don't... don't hold back--!!" she pleaded, tail fluttering in agitation and her body ready to be ruined.

He let go of her hair and fisted her tail, giving it a harsh tug. Her hips were pulled back in the mean time, the new angle allowing the tip of his cock to line up perfectly with her cervix and she screamed from the sudden burn.

Enji was close to his limit, his voice cracking from pleasure and the threats that left his lips seemed empty. "If... If you keep screaming, I'll have to shut-- shut you up."

She was drenching, losing any focus she regained after coming while Enji played with her tail, but her body reached its limits and started descending from the previous high.

"E-Endeavor-san, I don't think I can come anymore..." she murmured.

He groaned, taking his cock out of her abused hole. It felt heavy, the cum ready to burst any minute. "Come 'ere, open your mouth."

His hand stroked his cock a couple times before he gushed cum all over her tongue. She let some of it spill on the ground, not able to gulp it all down. Enji looked just as wasted as the girl in front of him.

He breathed heavily as if he just won a fight, having used all of his power to win. The criminal waited patiently for him to say anything after the haze dissipated.

"You... You were a very good kitten," he praised after adjusting his suit. "But you still owe the owner some apologies after stealing from him."

She agreed, obediently following Enji from the dark alley back to the food stands. Once there, she bowed apologetically to the owner while Enji kept his arms crossed in front of his chest, trying to look the usual but his eyes betraying the fatigue and indifference towards the present moment.

After everything was settled, Enji ended up paying for the damage she had caused. He grabbed the cat girl by the neck and guided her through the streets, only one thing in his mind.

"Disobedient girls like you should have someone to discipline them. How about that, hm?"

Something in her guts was telling her that she was stuck with the number one for some time — not that she was complaining, though.

[hournites]

Will It Wash Me Clean?

Hournite fic: Rick gets a visitor in jail -  2x08 

(Part 1/?) 

Read on ao3

~.~

One minute, Rick was asleep. 

One minute Rick was asleep in the dingy holding cell, the next Beth stood over him, arm outstretched and figure glowing green in the night, activated goggles perched at the top of her head like a translucent halo. 

There wasn’t time for Rick to formulate his questions about how or why or where she’d come from. Sweet, intoxicating relief pierced through him like a needle, ran like an aching supplement for adrenaline he’s missing, craving, through his veins. His heart started pumping and his chest expanded and out expelled a breath that got lost in the leather suit of Dr. Mid-Nite’s shoulder-padded arm. Her hands stayed still at her sides as her head turned, calculatingly, already onto their next move as he slumped against her.  

Rick didn’t understand. He didn’t need to understand. He’d go with Beth. Rick would go anywhere with her. 

“Beth!” her name gasped out his lips. Her sheer presence was enough for Rick to tremble, to break for her solace. For this long-imagined and forbidden embrace. Beth slid her goggles firmly over her eyes just as Rick pushed himself up and got a proper look at her. It had been...It had been days.

There weren’t any attorneys Rick could afford. Not even with Pat and Barbara’s savings. Not with his reputation and disdain in this town. No legal counsel, no salvageable way to untangle Rick from the terrified grief-stricken rambling he shouted at the dispatcher through the phone. The tearful plea at the first aid responders blew into a full-fledged panicked insistence to take him away and to deal him in. That he didn’t mean to kill anyone except for all the ways that he did. 

“Rick. Yeah. It’s okay. It’s me. Come. Quickly. Now, while the jail’s still empty. The coast is clear.” 

The holding cell creaked wide open behind her, keys jammed stuck in the lock. 

“What?” His head whipped back behind him at the solid wall. The one he’d stared at for nearly a week in peril as exhaustion seeped into his bones. 

She laughed and gave him a light push. He stumbled along, following her out of the shadowed bars and through a maze of sterile halls, squinting through his blurry vision. “Beth. What are you doing?” He looked back at her as the fresh cold air hit his lungs. 

She grabbed his arms, yanking him closer. “I’m breaking you out, silly.”   

Their chests collided together. Rather, her head met his shoulders and Rick was so deliriously happy he wanted to kiss her. Rick wanted to more than kiss her. He blinked slowly, dazed through his wet, clumped eyelashes to gaze down at her. The green goggles snapped downcast over his cuffed wrists. Beth reached into a back pocket, olive cape flaring behind in the wind behind the police cruisers. “One second.”  

A new set of keys emerged and she freed him. And then there were his hands, free to stretch out and expand. Arms free to spread as he half-spun around in his spot by the lamplight shining on them. Free to tilt his head back and thread his fingers through his dirty hair and drag his palms over his face, holding off a choked sob first, then hiding a smile that grew and grew until he was urgently gripping onto Beth, choking over clumsy laughter for real. 

Beth watched Rick break down with mild interest. 

“Let me. Let me—” Rick fumbled over his words, over his thoughts. Over everything. What was he even trying to say? Rick couldn’t process the next minute. The next moment. Beth pulled him aside and they walked through forgotten back alleys on a mission to weave through the town without a trace. Without a word. 

“Wait!” He hardly caught his breath but his mind cleared enough to know what the buzzing was ebbing through his muscles, warming his face underneath his set jaw. He just wanted to hold her. Look at her. Thank her. “Let me…”

The pads of his thumbs reached below the thick band of Beth’s goggles. She went still, letting him lift the folded material, unclouding her gleaming eyes. Face no longer obscured, Rick gazed on adoringly. He stepped forward and blinked back more tears. It was a lot and too much and not enough all at once when he bumped his forehead down to hers and just absorbed the night between them. 

“Beth,” His voice broke altogether. “God. You didn’t have to do this.” The realization set in. “You didn’t have to.” Rick loves her though. He reached for her suede brown gloves for one of her hands. He slipped his hand into hers, felt the curve of her palm through the suit, and attempted to pull the tips off slightly. The gloves weren’t enough. Rick needed something skin to skin.  

Her fingers twitched. Then pulled away.

“This is illegal, Rick.”

“I know. I know, and I can’t believe you did something like that for me. I’m not— this could get you in trouble. I’m not worth a risk like that. You didn’t have to get me out of there but...there you were.” Rick’s breath hitched. “Like my angel.” He’d been thinking that since she appeared to him like a glorious fever dream. She was driving him mad. “Beth… please. Let me kiss you.”

“No, Rick,” her soft voice whispered. “Listen to me. I freed you because it was the right thing to do.” She cupped his cheek as he searched her eyes. “But what is there left for you here? You have nowhere to go. You’re too dangerous, Rick. Even before the hourglass. This is a dead-end. Nobody’s come to defend your case. This town can’t handle you.”  

Rick squeezed his eyes shut, shutting down. Beth touched him tenderly, soft fabric grazing across his sunken cheeks then carded through his hair that gave him the care he yearned for. He couldn’t tear himself away.  

“But what about you?” he asked desperately. It didn't make sense. "What about you, Beth?" 

“Me?” Beth took a step back into the shade by an old crooked fence. The goggles sat on the bridge of her nose, green overcast shining harshly on him. “That’s why I’m here. So you can go.”

Rick shuddered through another breath, shielding his eyes. 

“You let Grundy free. I’m doing the same for you. We can agree on that, can’t we, Rick? Granting mercy to Monsters like you that don’t deserve it?”

Rick crumpled. Ground hit his knees, freed hands grasping at cruel, empty air after Beth vanished. Wind lifted a young giggle that was never hers. 

~,~

“We’ve got a sixteen-year-old detainee currently at the Blue Valley holding center needing medical attention and a psych eval. Yes, ma’am. Looking like PTSD. Over.” 

~.~

“Hey! Kid!” The officer shook Rick hard. “Kid! Shit.” 

Rick jolted out of the vision. Two uniformed policemen flanked with guards crowded into Rick’s cramped tiny room.  

“Stand down,” the officer called out to his partner over his shoulder. “Yeah, he’s stable. He was in a terror trance or something.” He studied Rick. “Need some water?” 

Rick couldn’t even manage any words. He nodded, panting, then knocked his head hard against the cement wall of his detention cell. Not again. He ground his teeth and clenched his fists over his buried face, knuckles pressed against the intrusive hallucinations spinning more tricks as tears streamed down from his eyes. Of course, again. 

And it would continue to happen over again. As much as Eclipso pleased.

They could lock him in a straight jacket and throw him in a pit, still, Rick couldn’t claw Eclipso out of his damn mind. His shirt clung to clammy, pale skin. There was no relief in the flat jail heat. Horizontal bars were still too sturdy for him to bend. There was no out. No hourglass. No jailbreak. No rescue mission to get Rick out while the JSA mapped out their next plans. No Beth with her arm reached out forward, to both save and break him. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. He got a water bottle still cold, wet on his palm with condensation.  

The officer with Carl on his name tag squatted down low. “Does this happen often?” 

Rick glanced away. Since he landed there? Often enough. 

“We’re gonna get you help, kid.” 

Why were they pretending to be nice to him in jail? Rick squeezed the crinkling plastic bottle as he thirsted, letting it deform in his grip instead of taking a drink. More lights flashed on and one of the officers got him a starchy blanket he didn’t even want. He looked down at the pins and needles in his shackled foot. They’d kept him in one leg cuff. Because he was dangerous. 

That part really wasn’t fake.  

The vision wasn’t real. What Eclipso dug out of him again. But it was dug out from something real. It was buried there. The stuff he said to Illusion Beth, wanting to run with her. More than that. The way that rush had made him feel. A part of him almost wanted to hide back in Eclipso’s game. Did he even have to fight back? He was too easy for the devil to manipulate, terrorized and broken down, powerless. What left was there to take from him anyway? 

Rick was beyond help.

[moregaythanyourealized]

The Mayor

Part 3

“We start this evenings broadcast with shocking news from town hall. This morning at roughly 8:30 our dear Mayor was killed by none other than Doc Ock. Luckily for us though he is behind bars thanks to the efforts of Y/n L/n, who is now being sworn into office.” The camera showed the procedure and Y/n in a new outfit. A blue dress that fir her quite well. Otto couldn’t stand it. He had only been in prison for a few hours and he already hated his life more than before. He was drugged up and his machine felt much heavier than it used to, he had next to no control of his body. His only way to see the world was through a small grainy TV that was posted in the corner of his cell.

His cell was incomprehensibly unfitting for a man such as himself. An old bed that left a crick in his neck. A toilet which he thankfully hadn’t needed to use yet. And a small table in the corner with the even smaller TV. The walls of his cell were unbreakable. Some material he didn’t know the name of surrounded the outside of it. He could chip at the concrete but the outside wouldn’t budge. Somehow he was sure you had funded the building of this cell. Just to spite him. The TV showed you suddenly and his attention was drawn back,

“It was terrifying to be in the clutches of such a lunatic. I did what anyone would do, if only I could’ve done more to save our dear Mr Thomas. May he rest in peace.” What a load of shit, he thought. You had fooled the people just like you had fooled him,

“What will happen to Doc Ock?” Y/n brushed her hair out of her face and looked directly into the camera,

“After I visit him tomorrow, he’ll be getting what he deserves. I demand justice for the death of Mayor Thomas.” People clapped in the background and Otto shut off the TV trying to get some sleep. He dreamed of you and this morning. He dreamed of how he wished it went.

The rain pouring down over the both of you as he held you close. You’d look up at him and pull him in close kissing him softly and thanking him for saving the city. For saving you. His hands would wrap around your waist and he’d carry you back to your apartment and you two would dry off and have a romantic dinner together. Sharing your plans for the future of New York....

He awoke with a start. Some guard yelling at him to get up. Groaning he lifted himself from the bed and walked sluggishly towards the door. A series of clicks and other strange noises come from the other side of the wall before the door swung open. Being handcuffed yet again he was led to a glass enclosure. This is miserable, he thought. They’re treating me like an animal. He was sealed inside the glass and felt cool air conditioning by his feet. A large vent blowing freezing air and making the space breathable. It woke him up a bit. The effects of whatever they injected slowly wearing off. One of his claws knocked on the glass, no damage. He couldn’t just break out either, there were guards all over the entire prison. When the door opened again he scowled. You looked tiny compared to the metal door and waltzed in as if you were an old friend. You wore a long pale pink coat and black gloves finished off with a black ascot. You looked unbearably cute but knew what you really were,

“What do you want L/n?”

“I listen to the people, and they demanded I see you to know you’re reasoning for killing a public figure.” Slamming his fist against the glass he stared you down,

“I did it because you told me to, you crazy bitch.” You nodded in agreement pulling off your gloves gingerly and setting them in your pocket,

“And I did it because you made it easy, if you had been smarter I might’ve avoided you and picked someone else to help me.” His appendages moved like protective snakes behind him.

“Did you come here just to mock me?” You got closer to the glass tilting your head to see his expression he looked distant. It made you a little sad,

“I don’t want you to rot here in prison. Because despite all that I’ve said...” You cleared your throat,

“The greatest thrill and joy I’ve had so far was the short time I worked alongside you.” He met your eyes and did nothing for awhile. Then he just sighed and turned away from you,

“I can’t deal with this right now.” You frowned and stepped back,

“Fine. I understand you don’t exactly like or trust me. But if there’s anything I can do...just let me know.” God! You really were confusing. One minutes you’re kissing, then you have him thrown in jail and now you’re asking about doing him favors? What are you trying to do to this poor mans head?

“Tell the guards to give me some time before they take me back to my cell.”

—————POV CHANGE—————

He hears the door close and looks around before using one of his metal arms to pry the top off the air vent. He wasn’t going to fit through it but he could tear up the floor around it to make him fit. And that’s exactly what he did. While you told the guards to give him time and to treat him better than other prisoners the doctor was wondering through the giant vents. His brain felt sharp and alert again. So did his tentacles, a flicker of red warned him to stop but he wouldn’t, not when he’s gotten this far. Finally he found a vent to a control room. He burst through the ceiling and killed both the guards. He sat at the computer and began typing. Y/n was going to regret this. With a few clicks and the push of a button all cell doors, outside doors, and gates were unlocked. He’ll had been released and so had New York’s greatest super villains. The city would be chaos and with the record for shortest office time ever, Y/n would be kicked out and replaced. Maybe the new shmuck in charge would know how to handle the city. Leaving the room he flew down the halls. His tentacles taking him to the personal belongings room. Searching the drawers he found what he was looking for. Grabbing his jacket and glasses he exited the building (cue epic music). Walking over crowds of anyone from petty thefts to fellow evil doers he stepped into the freshly fallen snow. It was around noon, by nightfall this place would be a wreck. He saw your car leave the parking lot. His tentacles took over, the flashing red now bright and constant. One grabbed the car while another ripped the door off. He heard your screaming from inside and did nothing to hide the joy spreading across his face. Your face paled when you saw who had wrecked your car and you pushed yourself as far away as you could. He got closer to the car and looked in the gaping hole on the side. You were shaking against the door on the opposite side. A limb reached in and wrapped around her neck. She closed her eyes expecting the worst. But the machine only untied her ascot from her neck and tied it around her mouth. She tried to scream again but it was muffled by the gag. Then ripping leather from the interior of the car it was tied tightly around her wrists and ankles. Pulling her into the cold air she shook her head,

“I think it’s time Brooklyn sees the type of leader you really are. Let’s have some fun.” His voice was different now. Dark and clever. The wreckage of downtown broke your heart. Historical buildings destroyed or burned down. Hundreds of not thousands of criminals on the streets. Between the speed you were going at and the ice in your eyes they all looked like blurs. The wind stopped whipping at your face, you couldn’t see what was behind you but you could tell where you were. The bank, of course. It was hard to process everything. Eventually you stopped trying and just laid across his shoulder. Setting you down he demanded the bank teller open all the safes,

“If you don’t, I’ll break every bone in her body. One by one. When I’m done she’ll be so deformed her own mother won’t recognize her.��� The teller scrambled with the keys and began unlocking everything. He laughed and began bagging what looked the most valuable,

“I hope you know this is very much your fault.” He smiled at you. The sinking in your stomach only went deeper. When he finished he picked you up once more like a rag doll and exited the building. Crushing the ceiling on the way out,

“Where shall we go? The city is ours.” He said nothing but got a devious glint in his eyes before taking you back through downtown. He stopped in front of your apartment. How did he know where you lived? When you entered the building it was like a ghost town. No employees or lobby boys. Only the distant sounds of chaos and the ding of the elevator as you ride it up to the top floor. Thankfully he didn’t know which exact apartment belonged to you. He set you down and you pointed to a door near the end of the hall. He didn’t bother to pick you back up or untie your feet so you could walk. He just dragged you behind him along the carpet while he talked about the design of the building. He stopped in front of your door. His human hands found their way to your waist. You tried to wiggle away from him but he reached down. You sighed when you realized he was only getting the keycard from your pocket.

You apartment was cold. He set you on the couch and began trying to light a fire in your fireplace,

“You have a lovely place, sure know how to use the tax payers money huh?” He let his jacket fall to the floor, revealing his bare chest. He must’ve been cold outside without a shirt on. He was out of sight and into your kitchen. He came back with a bottle of wine and a large glass. He left your hands tied but undid the restraints around your ankles and mouth. Taking a deep breath in you went to yell at him. Before you could you were pulled into his lap. Switching the TV on he shushed you and ran a hand down your back making you shiver,

“Is it the end times? Citizens of New York are wondering what is happening? Mere hours after Mayor L/n is elected the city falls into destruction. On her trip to visit Doc Ock it’s believed he escaped and freed the other prisoners. Riots, fires, building destroyed and collapsed in what’s possibly New York’s worst day yet.” The camera switched to different people getting interviewed,

“It’s terrible! I’m afraid to leave my home!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have elected a woman.”

“I heard she was working with the Doctor the entire time!” Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t reach the remote, and if you tried to get up he’d just pull you right back down. Guilt was the main emotion, but you felt some resentment as well. These people knew nothing! You were tricked... kinda, not really. But you never intended for this mess to happen. Karma had finally caught up with you. The people on the news kept taking and talking. You couldn’t take it anymore,

“Turn it off! Please!” Otto shrugged and changed the channel to a hockey game,

“Is all the pressure getting to you, Mayor?” His hand was resting on your thigh while the other held his wine glass. You wanted desperately to shower and go to bed. To wake up in a different dimension where nothing ever happened. The room became unbearably hot. You weren’t sure wether it was the fireplace or the guilt (or maybe something else),

“Could you untie my hands please? I’d like to get out of my coat.” You got off his lap and stuck your hands out for him to untie,

“Last time I trusted you, you and me thrown in jail. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to untie my hands.” He stood up and began slowly uniting them. He watched you intensely as you took your coat off. Turning away from his gaze you walked into your bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You were a strong powerful leader who was going to get out of this mess....somehow.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Firstly, I've just been dying to tell you I love your writting x3 it's absolutely fantastic! My favorite is the young liason ones. I think they're just the cutest! Would it be alright if I requested Fortress Maximus and Brainstorm for that? Please take all the time you need, and I hope you have an awesome day! You rock :D

Awww thanks a million!! I do strive to provide the cuteness, and I shall do so here! I'll also link the past Liaison posts for those who haven't read them yet!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

(I've already done Fort Max in part four but I just couldn't help doing him again with a different setup.)

Fortress Maximus

·Stuck in his cell after his "incident", he's unaware of the liaison program when it initially begins, and is thus clueless of what goes on beyond his tiny space in the dark. Amongst the crew, the young humans quickly learn of the ship's considerable history in its short run, including the hostage situation that nearly cost them their beloved psychiatrist. The humans are shocked by the details, but none more so than the news the bot responsible is jailed up in the depths of the ship. All at once, they begin to question such a practice; wasn't this poor bot just acting out of pain? Hasn't his victim recovered and forgiven him? Being told that Fort Max is too dangerous to risk does nothing to dissuade them, and thanks to their youth, the gathered group soon hatches a plan to see something for themselves.

·As one might expect, Fort Max is beyond surprised when he's awoken at night by a number of very tiny visitors to his cell, and is shocked to see that they're all human! Autobot training kicking in, he's immediately concerned for their safety and gets on his knees to encourage them to leave. Lots of these prisoners are dangerous! To top off his shock, the humans say they're not lost and are there for him. They explain the new program with the Lost Light, how they heard his story, and how they're all here now to see him. For an instant Fort Max is speechless, because these tiny humans have just done more for him than the entire Autobot cause ever did. It takes more willpower than he cares to admit not to let his voice crack.

·Despite all of his assurance to the liaisons that what he did was wrong, and that he deserves to face punishment, they hear none of it. Even urging them to leave and stay on the safe parts of the ship go unheeded. They've decided that they like him and don't want him to be lonely. It's incredibly selfish, but he can't bring himself to deny the comfort their company brings him. Every night, with stealth granted by their tiny size, they visit him for as long as they can. Some bring games and entertainment from earth to share with him, and in time he gives up trying to convince them to stop, finding each one of them to be a treasure he just can't give up.

·It's mostly by bad luck they're eventually caught. Ultra Magnus just so happened to be conducting a late night inspection when he came across all the liaisons gathered about the supposedly deadly Fortress Maximus in what appeared to be a slumber party. The former Enforcer had immediately called for back up and demanded the children be released, not backing down when they all made the baffling move to clamor between the cell bars and shield the gigantic Autobot with their tiny frames. No amount of explaining the big bots potential danger could make them leave. Eventually Rung himself had to be summoned to mediate, and at the sight of Fort Max so carefully cradling his friends and begging that any punishment only come to him so they would be spared... The psychiatrist happily declared there was no need for such caution.

·Put on the spot, Ultra Magnus had decided to allow a partial commutation of the bots sentence. Though he's under watch and isn't permitted to have weapons, he's allowed to have his own room and far greater range of the ship, but under supervision. The liaisons accept only after Max does. In no time they're helping him settle into his room, bringing him housewarming gifts, and coming over as often as possible to visit. It almost doesn't feel real to the poor bot. In an almost comical turn of events he's been freed and has gone from loneliness to being surrounded by tiny, loving friends. Even Rung visits from time to time, joining in on the fun and making it clear he holds no ill will towards the big bot for anything that happened. As they all gather for another movie night together, it occurs to him that his painful past has never felt so far away, and for the first time in so long he feels ready for the future.

Brainstorm

·Ever the on the move genius, his curiosity had been piqued the instant he heard humans were going to be on the ship, as a new species is always a fascinating opportunity. He's not all dissapointed by the gaggle of bright eyed youngsters when he finally meets them. Their tour of the ship is quickly guided to his workshop, and in no time he's showing them all the fun ways he's breaking physics or on the cusp of doing so. Pretty soon the rest of the tour is delayed so they can see absolutely everything he's working on. Brainstorm finds their attitude of "science just because" to be monumentally refreshing in the wake of his occasionally stiff crewmembers. Why does he need a reason to experiment on certain things? Sometimes it's fun and invigorating to just invent something because you can!

·As he finds them incredibly motivating and they love helping however he can, he quickly gives each human permission to accompany him as his assistants. With their unique human perspective, he finds himself seeking out ideas that could benefit them directly, whether it's purely for their entertainment or for more practical purposes. Their need for "food" in particular offers a great deal of potential. He's not foolish about it, of course! These little guys are delicate! But if he can make delicious meals that can be stored easily and prepared instantly, why not? Humans need to eat multiple times every single day, why not make it easier and more fun! The hardest part proves to be getting them not to explode...

·The liaisons come to love the incredible energy he brings to every single experiment, and the feeling is mutual. Even if he doesn't understand the references to "Bill Nye" or other such things, he happily allows the humans to take selfies as he works. Spreading the word to their fellows on earth can only help their species catch up, after all. In time though, he starts to socialize with the group outside of his workshop, even bringing them to Swerve's with him to introduce them to all his friends. They stick to him the entire time even though their enthusiasm proves popular with every bot on the ship. Having often struggled to fit in, he finds the feeling of belongings refreshing in ways he never could have anticipated it might be. He'd protect each and every liaison with his life.

·It's quite unexpected when somebot brings up his... stunt, with the briefcase. He'd been so happy for once that his failures had simply... not registered. Thus, he's caught off guard when the humans start asking baffled questions. It's all he can do to mumble an excuse and leave, the confusion in their bright eyes burning into the core of his spark. So many instances of them looking up at him with respect and excitement now seem far more precious, because there's no way they'll ever want to be around him again. Now they know he isn't just the ship's eccentric scientist, and that at his most desperate he tore time and space apart... In hindsight, how could he have allowed himself to forget? He's dangerous, and the liaisons should have been kept distant to begin with... Humans are far too delicate to risk anything happening, and he never would have forgiven himself for allowing harm to come to them.

·Unbeknownst to Brainstorm, the entire group was far from aghast at his actions. If anything, they were heartbroken for his sake. To have been so desperate he'd happily tried to erase himself from existence, in part to save a bot he loved... They want at least to talk to him. Using skills he taught them, they hack past the gridlock on his workshop, and the scientist is shocked by their effort. Before he can say a word they're surrounding him and offering the most effusive of reasurances, particularly regarding how they never want to lose their beloved science bot, and he takes it upon himself to comfort the crying group with a promise he's not going anywhere. In an instant, something becomes incredibly clear to him; these little beings care about him. They don't want him to leave. Trying not to cry himself, he assures the group that he's long since learned his lesson. There's plenty of wonderful things in the present to stick around for.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Mature [References Bullying and Homophobia]

Prompt: AU Rivalry Teamup

Summary: Sent away to a delinquents academy, Freed knew life wouldn't be easy. That was proven to be the case when he met Laxus, a cocky, aggressive arse who used his fists over his words. At least, that's what he thought when they first met, but things can change over the span of a year.

Notes: This is the sixth submission for Fraxus Week, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. This one has a brief descrition of bullying and period typical homophobia.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

The London School for Delinquent Boys

Year 1890

Location: London, England

"We've a new boy in class today," The teacher – Mister Porland, that's what he'd called himself – said as Freed stood before the blackboard. "Freed Justine. I expect you all to behave and not cause any trouble with him."

Freed would have picked another way to be introduced if he'd been granted the choice. He would have much rather not had an introduction at all, and instead he'd slip into the back of the classroom, wave off all the questions that would be aimed at him, and try and get through the first day without any complaints. Instead, he'd been forcibly marched to the front of a class of about thirty sixteen-to-seventeen-year-old boys – all of whom had been taken from regular education and placed in a disciplinary academy – and been served up almost on a silver platter.

He had to wonder if this was a punishment in and of itself. A hazing from the teachers.

It wasn't that he was intimidated by them, of course. He'd earned his place in the school just like them, and he could more than handle himself, but he didn't care for the fuss. This was as close to jail someone of his age and social stature could undergo and, due to an enthusiast habit of reading and a slight flare for the dramatic, he'd decided prison rules might best serve him. Rule number one was to keep your head down.

A few jeers, exclamations and a patronising whistle filled the room, quickly quietened by the teacher. Freed made an effort not to pay attention to it. Animals, all of them. At least he could be safe in the knowledge that he held moral superiority over them, not that he'd state it out loud. Idiots tended not to like being told that.

Keeping his head down would be harder than he thought.

After he was allowed to take his seat, he was forced to walk through the lot of them to the back of the classroom. The jeering continued, albeit quietly, and someone tried to trip him as he walked. He ignored them, and nearly got to his seat when a particular classmate caught his eye. He wore an arrogant sneer, had a scar running down his face, and had shoulders larger and broader than a student their age ought to have.

Freed would have thought the boy attractive were it not for the look of challenge in his eyes, one Freed knew all too well. This boy was testing him, wanting to see if he would be a victim in the school or someone to be respected. To show him, Freed halted his step, made eye contact with the boy for a few moments, and then continued walking to take his seat.

A little 'hm' was the blonde's only response, but Freed paid it no mind.

Two weeks passed before the blonde actual did anything. The two weeks consisted of Freed getting used to his new surroundings, idiots trying and failing to one-up him in the hopes of looking tough in front of their idiot friends, and the blonde's presence being constant but in the distance. That changed when the blonde approached him in the dinner hall.

"Hey," The blonde grunted in greeting, storming towards Freed. His body was tense, coiled up and ready for a fight. "You think you're better than me or something?"

Freed didn't know why the blonde thought that, exactly, but his response was instant. "Better than you, yes."

He felt that was a fair way to think. The blonde had proven himself to be nothing of note intellectually, he barely spoke in lessons and when he did it was usually to make an unwarranted joke or to get an answer wrong, and he seemed quick to anger. More than once, he'd lurched at another student, looking ready for a fight he'd probably win. The fights never happened exactly, but they seemed like a constant risk. So yes, Freed did think he was better than him.

"This whole thing might 'a worked out in yer old school," The blonde growled, taking another step forward. Freed didn't flinch. "But actin' like yer hot shit and that yer smarter than everyone here ain't working. You're here like the rest of us, and you ain't better just because your pa's got money."

"I don't think I'm better than everyone here," Freed retorted, also taking a step forward. "But I am better than an idiot who can't shut up and takes his hobby by rolling around in the mud, somewhat like a little pig. My betterment was never in question."

The insult wasn't his best. The reference to the blonde's position in the rugby team tenuous at best, and Freed's supposed superiority complex might have shone through – but it annoyed the blonde, so it served its purpose.

He would have rather not been shoved in the chest, though.

Stumbling back slightly, Freed made a choice. He had been told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to get into another fight, it was partially the reason he was there in the first place, but the blonde deserved a punching. He seemed to be something of an unofficial head-boy, and the fear of him was obvious to anyone who would look, and as such Freed felt a punch to the face was long overdue. He was a student like anyone else, and while others might want to lie down and take it, Freed didn't.

That was why he punched him. It hurt more than he thought it would.

Their fight was hardly that. It lasted less than a minute, and anger overpowered its elegance. Freed perhaps got another two punches in, and received one in return. Teachers were storming over the moment it started, and were dragging them away before it could get out of hand, but Freed felt good to hit the bastard.

"Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine," Their head teacher yelled, voice filled with a rage that Freed felt was slightly exaggerated given the situation. "My office, now."

As Freed was dragged – literally dragged, which again was an overreaction – into the office, he was sure of three things. He'd already completely failed in his goal of not bringing any attention on himself; his father was going to find out and want him thrashed for getting into a fight again; and Laxus Dreyar had perhaps the most interesting name he'd ever heard.

---

"You heard what he did?"

"Nearly killed him."

"Apparently they're gonna kick him out."

"Nah, he's the team captain."

Freed didn't pay attention to the conversations happening around him as he ate. After three months of being in the academy, he'd learned it was best not to. Most of the people had nothing of interest to say, and the people who were interesting were the ones likely to try and start a fight with you if they knew you were listening. He'd learned that when a younger boy, Natsu, tried to punch him and Freed had ended up dumping a bowl of cereal over the man's head and temporarily strangling him with his tie. The detentions and lack of breakfasts for a week had been worth it.

In truth, he'd forged a comfortable place for himself in the school. He was known as the boy who gave Dreyar a black eye, and that title came with its perks. Mainly that most people would leave him alone. He and Dreyar had… something. He couldn't tell if it was a truce, or simply a stalemate. But either way, Freed would enjoy the calm and only reignite the fight should Laxus need another punching.

Other than that, Freed was forgettable in the school. People ignored him, he ignored them, and everyone went on as if he hadn't arrived. The school was fine – teachers were far too happy to punish, but that was to be expected – and their lessons were as good as his old schools had been. Had his parents been scammed, the tuition fee had been high?

His parents were an issue. They hadn't visited, but they were in constant communication with the head teacher, and apparently their 'donations' meant Freed was put under a spotlight by the staff. Maybe that was why they were so quick to punish: they were being paid to do so. Annoying, but it could be worse.

The food, however, was abysmal.

Mashed potatoes and sausages would be a good meal, but the potato was half cooked, and the sausages were tiny. He'd eaten as much as he could stomach within a minute, so he absently played with the food with a slight huff. The rain, as tended to happen in England, was heavily pouring and Freed knew the moment a teacher saw he'd stopped eating he would be forced into the yard for recreational activities. The eating hall was at least partially warm, and he had to admit that the conversation behind him was of interest.

"What's that got to do with anything?" One boy shrugged.

"They don't wanna piss off the rugby team, they all worship him," The other explained. "If they kick him out, everyone gets angry about it, and they fight back. They'll never do it."

"You didn't see the kid," The first dismissed. "Half dead. They've gotta do something."

"Doesn't seem like Laxus to just beat a kid up for no reason," The second argued, and Freed did have to agree. Laxus was an argumentative and aggressive man, but he did tend to stick to people his own age. Mainly those who knew how to fight back, as well. "The kid must have pissed him off."

"Romeo, nah," The first laughed, and Freed frowned. "Kid's nothing. Wouldn't bother Laxus."

Romeo. Romeo Conbolt. It took Freed a moment to put a face to the name, and when he did his fork stalled and his body tensed. He had heard the rumours of a kid being beaten half to death, of course he had, but he hadn't heard who it was. He wouldn't have cared, were it not for the fact he had seen days prior the beating Romeo had endured. Laxus hadn't been the one to beat the kid, it had been a group of six of his classmates.

Freed had stopped it, of course. They were all thirteen, he was seventeen and the boy who got into a fight with the school's toughest figure, so they scarpered when he yelled at them to stop. He told the kid to go to the nurse, and saw the issue as finished with.

Had the kid used Laxus as a scapegoat? Or had it been the group of brats?

Either way, Freed was a man of principles. As much as he wouldn't mind seeing the back of Laxus and his insistence of approaching problems with his fists, it wasn't fair to have him blamed for something he hadn't done. Especially when a grown man beating a kid was something that could get him taken from the school and placed into an actual jail. That wasn't fair. He stood, and quickly started to walk towards the head teacher's office.

"Enter," The headmaster, Mister Fernandes, said once Freed had knocked on the door. Freed entered, and waited in silence. "Mister Justine. It's rare you're here voluntarily."

"I suppose so, sir," Freed agreed, ignoring the insult. "Sir, I have a complaint to make."

"Of course you do," Mister Fernandes sighed, removing a pair of spectacles, and leaning forward in his chair. "You do know that this is a disciplinary institution, and I don't act on the word of my students. If you have issues with your treatment then it's not my concern."

"I understand that sir," Freed assured him. "But my complaint is more about the treatment of another student: Laxus Dreyar."

"You needn't worry about that," Mister Fernandes dismissed the complaint, despite the fact Freed had yet to make it yet. "I know that you and he have something of a… personal vendetta against one another, and I'm sure that the rumours about what he has done have reached you. I will be following a strict set of procedures which will likely end up with him incarcerated for what he did to a younger boy. He'll be out of your hair soon, so don't concern yourself about it."

"That is not my complaint."

"If this is something to do with your silly feud then I'm really not interested by it," Mister Fernandes sighed. "As I said, he'll most likely be out of here within the month. If you can't be civil for that long then that's a bad reflection on your own character. And boys your age really should be fighting their own battles."

Freed bit back a retort, wanting to point out that the time he did try to fight his own battle he was dragged away and reprimanded. Instead, he calmed himself and spoke again with the level of respect a teacher believed they deserved.

"Laxus wasn't the person who attacked Romeo, sir," He said, and the headteacher paused. "It was a group of his classmates. Six of them, I believe."

"And you know this how?" Mister Fernandes asked.

"I walked in on them doing it, sir," Freed admitted, not flinching when the teacher looked at him with sharpened poise. "They stopped when I approached, Romeo went to the nurse's office and I expected him to tell you who actually was responsible, rather than placing the blame on Laxus. Had I known earlier what he'd done, I would have spoken to you sooner."

Mister Fernandes took a moment, thinking before sighing. "He did, actually. He gave me a list of names, before returning a day later stating that it was actually Laxus to blame, and that he'd lied initially as he was worried about the consequences."

"And you believed him?" Freed asked before he could stop himself.

"Are you questioning me, Justine?"

"No, sir."

He was.

"You're dismissed, Justine. Thank you for speaking with me," Mister Fernandes waved a hand in his direction, and Freed nodded curtly and went to walk away. "It was big of you to do this, Justine. Well done."

"It's what's expected of me, sir," Freed dismissed.

"Good man," Mister Fernandes nodded, before waving Freed off again.

Freed left, closing the door behind him. He immediately turned to the right and started walking towards the courtyard, which was still being battered by the heavy rain. As he walked, he was completely unaware that Laxus was leaning on the wall outside of the office, looking at Freed with an expression of mingled bewilderment, disbelief, and belligerent respect.

---

The idiom that the enemy of one's enemy was one's friend was a complicated one. It was limited, didn't work for all situations, and seemed to fall apart under any scrutiny. Freed had long since decided that it didn't make much sense when thought about, and yet he found himself subscribing to the idea when it fitted him.

That was the reason he found himself walking into the rugby team's changing room.

Laxus seemed to notice him approaching the moment Freed walked into the room, and stopped mid-way through changing into his kit to stare Freed down. Freed wasn't put off by the intense and lingering gaze of the man, walking towards him without hesitation. The room seemed to quieten around him, and Freed couldn't be sure if it was because of his presence in the room or because Laxus apparently changed in the back corner away from most of his team. That worked well for what Freed wanted, at least.

"The hell are you doin' here?" Laxus said, voice growly and angry sounding. He always sounded like that with Freed, but it seemed more intense today. Perhaps this how he acted before a match.

"I have a favour to ask of you," Freed stated.

"No," Laxus rebutted immediately.

"You might enjoy doing it."

"Wouldn't be a favour, it'd be an opportunity," Laxus smirked, seemingly proud of himself. Freed had to give him credit, it was somewhat clever. "So, what's the great and powerful Freed Justine need from a man like me? Lessons on how to be an idiot; that's what you keep calling me. Or is it a few tips on rolling around in the mud? Y'know, because that's all rugby is, right."

"The captain of the team you're playing," Freed began, rather than rising to the bait. "Hurt him for me."

"What?" Laxus asked, a laugh tainting the word.

"Hurt him," Freed repeated. "Kick him, punch him, give him a concussion if you're able to. Or perhaps accidentally kick him in the balls, that'd be rather nice to watch. Just do whatever you can to make him cry."

"Why?" Laxus grinned, clearly enjoying this.

"You're playing my old school's team, and he's the reason I got sent here in the first place," Freed admitted, ignoring the quirked eyebrow he got. "He deserves more pain than he gets, I suspect. I want you to remedy that."

"And why should I?" Laxus said, voice a little taunting as he continued to change into his rugby kit. Freed forced himself to ignore the strong body that was revealed to him when Laxus removed his shirt. "We ain't exactly friends, are we? Maybe I'd have more in common with him than I do with you."

"Do you need an excuse to hurt someone?" Freed asked, and Laxus held his gaze. Freed eventually relented. "I can tell you the team's weaknesses. The coach wont change tactics and so they can be exploited."

Laxus thought for a moment. "Nah, you don't need to. I'll do it."

"You will?" Freed asked. He… honestly hadn't expected that.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "So long as you watch. If I'm gonna put on a show, I wanna know I'm gonna have an audience."

Laxus pulled on his shirt, much to Freed's quiet disappointment, and sat on the bench before his locker. He leant against it and looked at Freed expectantly, who was looking back with confusion and disbelief. His arrival in the changing room was stupid at best – he'd seen the man who had gotten him there in the first place and old resentment bubbled up faster than Freed would have liked – and as such he had thought Laxus would dismiss him. It's what Freed would have done were the situation flipped.

"Why?" Freed asked.

"This place is shit, anyone would wanna punch the guy who put 'em here. I don't get to do it, but it'll be fun to do it to some other guy," Laxus shrugged, standing up and cracking his back when the coach called for the team to leave for their warmups. He stepped past Freed, but halted once they were all alone. "Be there, pretty-boy."

"What?" Freed stammered slightly. Had Laxus just…

"You think I don't know the reason you're here?" Laxus chuckled a little, but it lacked the edge it normally did. He lowered his eyes slightly and spoke softer than Freed was used to. "You two get caught? Or did he catch you with some other guy and squealed on ya?"

Freed shouldn't answer. He and Laxus weren't friends and admitting anything to him was stupid, but he found himself whispering, "The latter."

"Fucker," Laxus growled, equally quietly. Freed didn't know what to think of it. "Yer right, he needs a kick in the balls. I'll handle it."

"Thank you," Freed whispered.

"Don't worry about it," Laxus dismissed. "Besides, I guess I kinda owe you for stopping me from getting expelled, don't I?" Freed frowned a little. That had been half a year ago, and he didn't know that Laxus even knew of it. Laxus didn't seem to notice Freed's change in body language and continued talking with a smirk. "And, you never know, having a pretty little rich boy watching me might make me play better."

That was all Laxus said before slowly dragging a knuckle over Freed's cheek in a gesture so light but so intimate that Freed felt a shiver run over him completely. Laxus grinned at him, pushed his knuckle against Freed's lips for a split second, before leaving Freed alone in the locker room, heart racing and eyes wide.

---

"How did you know?"

"How'd I know what?"

"The real reason I'm here."

Both Freed and Laxus were sitting on the school house's roof. Laxus had been taking a drag of his cigarette when Freed had approached him and sat bedside him, and the blonde absently offered Freed one. He didn't take it, and for a few moments they had been sitting in silence before Freed had broken it.

It was the last day of the school year. Freed would be dragged back to his home, where his parents would no doubt have a list of grievances about his behaviour throughout the year. His father would make threats about how if his behaviour didn't improve immediately, he would be punished off the back of the man's belt. Nothing would come of it, of course – the elder Mister Justine stopped punishing Freed that way the moment Freed was of an age where he could fight back – but the yelling would be near consistent. It always was when Freed met with his parents now.

He wasn't going to complain. There was no point. Instead, he was going to tie off the loose ends of his school life, particularly with Laxus. Because, when it came to the beautifully, and now somewhat flirtatious man, Freed really didn't know where he stood.

"It's obvious, when you've been here for long enough," Laxus explained, puffing out a stream of smoke. "Yer not obvious, I don't mean that, but when you've been here for years you look out for the signs."

"And what were the signs?"

"You never spoke about why you're here other than saying you got into a fight. I'm guessing it was with the guy who told on ya," Laxus shrugged a little, shifting slightly so that his side was pressed against Freed. "Everyone here wears their story like a badge of honour. Getting into fights, beating kids up, stealing from places. They're all good stories and get's you a lot of credit in a place like this. The worse you were, the more respect you get," Laxus chuckled. "There's only one thing that gets you in here that you don't talk about. Yer queer, and you get found out."

"You don't talk about why you're here," Freed pointed out, and Laxus turned to look at him with a lazy smirk.

"My dad saw me with the neighbour kid," He laughed. "He wasn't even good looking, felt sorry for him really and wanted to know what it's like to kiss a guy. But dad walked in, threw a fit, and I've been here since I was thirteen."

"That's awful of him."

"Maybe, but this place ain't so bad once you get used to it," Laxus shrugged again, leaning back against the wall he was resting on. "Kinda funny, really. I'd say about a quarter of the guys are here for the same reason we are. If you know what to look out for, you can have a pretty good time."

"You could have told me," Freed laughed a little. "I've been rather bored."

"If I told ya, I wouldn't have you all to myself," Laxus grinned, and blew a puff of smoke directly into Freed's face. Freed simply quirked an eyebrow. "I've been spending the last couple of weeks showin' off to ya on the field and I think it was working pretty well. Hardly fair on me if I got you all excited only for ya to use it on some other guy."

"You're a manipulative man when you want to be, Laxus," Freed smirked, leaning just a little closer to Laxus. "But you haven't done anything yet, have you?"

"Maybe I want ya to be desperate for me," Laxus whispered, voice low and rumbling. "Maybe I'm waiting for you to make the move on me."

"If that's true, then maybe you've waited long enough."

They were close now, and Freed wanted to be closer. Laxus' hand was resting against his thigh, and Freed leant further in. He could smell the smoke on Laxus breath, see the slight dilation of the man's eyes as he grinned, and slowly brought their lips together in a slow, tentative kiss.

His first kiss. A beautifully electric, smoky kiss that set Freed's very soul on fire.

He tangled his hand into Laxus' short hair, tugging at it slightly and relishing the slight groan that he was given in return. Laxus pushed into him further, and Freed practically melted.

Eventually, when a harsh gust of wind flew over them and shook them from the spell of their kiss, they pulled apart. They were quiet for a moment, the gravity of what happened only just hitting Freed. He had just kissed the brutish, angry, brilliant man he had once expected to hate, and had felt more alive than ever before.

"You better be here next year."

"Nothing could stop me."

"That's right, pretty-boy."

They shared a smirk, and leant forward to reignite another perfect kiss.

[cowboysluts]

this isn’t love - arthur morgan x fem!reader (m)

Title: this isn't love (but maybe one day it will be?)

Summary: While on the run, you get caught... Only to be shoved into what is very much not jail, and is just a cellar with one Arthur Morgan under the full moon. While, the guards leave you there to be mauled by the werewolf... He finds a "way" around killing you.

Tags: Smut (18+), Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader, Dub-Con, Werewolf!Arthur Morgan, Dom!Arthur, Possessive behavior(??), Pretty much PWP, Rough-ish sex, Dirty talk, all that good werewolf fic type stuff.

A/N: I’m clearly great at titles... /s... There is a ‘keep reading’ link here, you may not be able to see it... But it’s there. Enjoy(:

"You're making a mistake!" you hiss. You wrap your hands around the bars of the cell. You could feel your face growing hot, with each second that passed. The stagecoach robbery was a massive fucking bust. You had gotten too greedy, and your luck ran out.

Week after week, you had been hitting stagecoach after stagecoach.

You might have been set up, but you weren't entirely sure yet. You made quick work of the driver, taking him out before he even knew what was happening. The first part was done, stopping the stagecoach from moving. The two guards at the front of the stagecoach whip their heads in the direction of the gunshot. They each lift their weapons, surveying the area.

You find your forehead creasing when the guards begin shouting. You take aim once more, unable to comprehend what is being said.

It was needless to say, a surprise when various armed men jumped out of the back of the stagecoach. What was even more shocking, was when several men on horses appeared from your flank.

Before you knew it, the law had you surrounded.

You don't recall the next part too well. You did remember the sound of gunfire coming from every direction. When the dust settled, you were in ropes, and only two men were left standing. So much for it being only two men and two guards.

One of them transported you to the nearest cell with bars that could keep you contain you. Which, much to your disappointment, was in the middle of fucking nowhere. The other lawman remained behind to clean up the massacre that had occurred outside of Saint Denis.

It seemed he had purposely taken you from the city, knowing of your many roots there. Which was a great call on his part, because you would've escaped the moment he rode into town with you.

You had attempted to take in your surroundings, trying to make sense of where you were. The pounding in your head and the jolting of the horse kept you from figuring that much out. He kept riding for what felt like hours until he came across a little cellar.

"Get comfortable with your new roommate, Miss! It'll be a while before more men arrive to get you," the lawman smirks, sending a wink your way. He slams the door of the cellar shut, deserting you with the daylight from the gaps in the door, and a sole torch that they've lit.

You scoff, a sour taste creeping into your mouth.

You twist your head around, trying to peer at the man who is sitting quietly in the corner.

He almost recoils as you make eye contact. You glance over him, taking note of how his cerulean eyes glimmer in the dim lighting. You clasp your hands in front of you, stepping towards the man carefully.

"Keep your distance," he snarls.

You hope the way you jump isn't too noticeable. He had more than startled you.

"Pardon me," you mumble, lifting your palms into the air. You feign innocence and bring a gentle smile to your lips. "Just wanted to introduce myself to my new bunkmate."

He resides in silence, eyes never leaving your form. You take a step back, heaving a sigh. He was not the friendly type, it seemed. You take note of your surroundings, noticing how some of the bars of the tiny window have been bent. You feel your eyebrow twitch upwards at the sight of the chains on the wall. Blood cakes the floor surrounding the chains, and you can't help but wonder what had happened.

"You're going to die tonight."

The words have you craning your head towards him in alarm. "Excuse me?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. Was he threatening you?  

He draws his lips backward, exposing his fangs.

A werewolf, you were trapped in a cellar with a werewolf.

Blankly, you stare, wondering what your next course of action is.

"I've read about your kind, but only very little... Why do you say I'm going to die? Are you planning something?" you ask, inhaling softly. You want to shout and yell for help. Instead, you refrain. He simply shakes his head and points his finger towards the cellar doors.

"Full moon," he states.

That was correct, he was affected by the cycles of the moon.

You hear the rustling of his clothes, and you see him stand out of the corner of your eye. You fully turn then, taking in his appearance. You bite the corner of your lip, glancing between him and the doors.

Had they left you here to die? They weren't going to get more men for transportation, they were leaving you. They had left you to be torn to shreds.

"Is there some terms we can agree on?" you prod, watching as he strikes a match and lights his cigarette. He leans against the wall, crossing one arm over his chest.

"Shoot," he says, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.

"Make it quick, when you do it," you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You knew that in this line of work, you would leave this world quicker than most. There was no happy ending, and your life would be cut short. You had just thought that maybe you would go out in a blaze of glory, pockets full of cash.

It may seem odd, but you desired to have that spark of hope in your chest when you went. That little hope that maybe you'd make it out alive. In this case, you couldn't evade death. You would have to face it. There would be no thrilling chase here.

"Sure," he nods, letting out a chuckle. "They may come back before then, though."

You shake your head in doubt, "I'm not even certain how far they would have to ride to get help for transportation, where are we?"

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards, and he takes a final pull of his cigarette. He drops it, snuffing it out with the bottom of his boot. "The outskirts of Valentine, the lawmen like to keep it real quiet. Considering that I'm here to rot, they don't want me to be freed or anyone to notice."

Part of you wants to ask, but you decide against it. That wasn't your business and you were not here to pry. Finally, you absorb the words and you give him a firm nod. They should make it back before night, but who was to say that they were even planning on returning?

"Worst comes to worst, I'll let you shackle me up. Don't fret, darling."

"Those will hold you?" you question, tilting your head to the side. You glance over at the shackles, taking note of how rusted they looked. You plop down on the bench with a heavy sigh.

When you turn to face him, his smirk has bloomed into a full-blown grin.

"For your sake, I hope so."

When night falls, you give up glancing at the cellar door.

You've made small talk through the day, and you've learned that Arthur Morgan is a very funny man. Each story he told had you rolling, and before you knew it he was opening himself up to you. As it grew darker and darker, he began talking less and less.

You hear Arthur groan, and you tear your eyes away from the exit.

"You need to chain me up," he hisses with urgency. "Now!"

You scramble upwards, and he begins making his way towards the shackles. He spreads his arms, and you shackle his left hand first. At this angle, you can see just how tall Arthur is. You follow suit with his right hand, and then his ankles.

You take a step back, making sure each limb is locked properly in the shackles.

A piece of his hair falls in front of his eyes, and you brush it back without thinking. You almost instantly flush, and you move away from him with an apology.

If he cares, he doesn't show it.

With rosy cheeks, you withdraw to the other side of the cell, unsure of what you should do.

You press your back against the wall and begin to let yourself slip down to the floor. You sit, patiently waiting for something to happen.

The fear begins to creep up your spine as you wait. You shiver at the feeling of the freezing floor beneath you. If you made it out, those officers would pay.

You peer over at Arthur, and you can see a tiny bit of strain behind his eyes. His shoulders are tense, and his fingers are balled into a fist. He was already fighting with himself. The night had only just begun. Arthur's lips are clamped shut, and he simply stares.

You glance around the cellar, looking for anything to help you escape. If you could find something like a hairpin, maybe you could shimmy open the lock. After you were out, you could lock it once more, and he wouldn't be able to claw you to death.

Much to your disappointment, you weren't able to locate anything of the sorts. This is why you should always keep pins hidden in your hair.

As each moment passes, Arthur beings to look less and less lucid.

You hear various pops and crackles coming from him, it seemed that he was shifting.

A low growl sounds from the back of Arthur's throat, and you feel your hair begin to stand up.

This was it, you were going to die.

The tips of his fingers shift, and you see massive nails begin to grow. You make eye contact with him, taking note of his blood-red eyes. His lips curl backward, and he snarls at you. His canines were longer than they were earlier, and you were certain he could kill you instantly.

Something told you that Arthur would want to play with his food, first though.

You search your pockets, frantically. You needed something, anything to escape.

The first chain to snap is the one on his left ankle. To be fair, that was probably the most rusted of the four chains. You gasp at the sight, and you scramble back into the corner of the cell. He was going to break free at any moment, and you would be his only target.

Think, think, think!-

"Arthur- if you're in there, resist! Please, resist it!" you call out, chest rapidly rising up and down. You were going to faint... You couldn't do this.

The next shackle to snap is the one that's attached to his right wrist.

You gulp as the chain clinks loudly against the concrete floor. You slip back down onto the floor, and you bring your knees to your chest. You focus on your breathing, trying to calm down.

There would be no point in running, he would only catch you. Besides, there was nowhere to run. You just needed to accept it.

Arthur growls, presumably in pain, as his muscles shift.

It was almost hilarious to see yourself like this. You, the big bad thief, shaking like a leaf in the corner of a cellar. Your guts twisted when the third one didn't snap, but instead was pulled from off of the wall. He was so strong... You wouldn't stand a chance.

Fighting him would only piss him off.

You lock eyes with Arthur, and you can't see any remnants of the Arthur you met earlier. It was just you and the wolf, now.

You wrench your eyes closed when the fourth chain smacks the ground.

Before you can even let out a scream, you're being yanked from off the ground.

You stumble into his arms, cringing as his nails dig into the back of your arms. His hands feel calloused but warm. You keep your eyes shut, not wanting to face him. You feel his hot breath near your neck, and you lift your chin upwards.

It's entirely against your instincts, you want to shrink away from him. Maybe the wolf would recognize that you weren't a threat if you submitted yourself to him.

You wait, expecting for his canines to sink into your skin and rip you apart. When it doesn't come, you peek up at him. A tear slips down your cheek, and you feel embarrassed.

Of course, crying is what any rational person would do. For some reason, it brought you to shame... Is this how the stagecoach driver felt before you put the bullet between his eyes? You deserved this, you deserved to die.

"Got an idea, be good and you'll survive tonight-"

You blink, the strained words not registering.

One moment, you're standing. The next moment, you're being shoved onto the ground of the cellar. The wind gets knocked out of you as you land on your back, and another tear slips down your cheek. You gawk at Arthur's form, trying to see what he's doing.

He appears in front of you, but you don't have time to react to him.

You can only let out a strangled sob as your work pants are stripped from your waist. What was he?-

Oh...

Oh!

Your mind reels back to the passages you had read.

Werewolves wouldn't kill their mates, under any circumstance.

That's what he was doing, he was going to-

You gasp as the rest of your clothes are torn off of you. You let him do as he pleases. You wanted to live, you needed to live. Things... you needed to tie up loose ends, you needed to change. You couldn't die, not now. Not yet.

Arthur flips you with ease, forcing you onto your hands and knees. Every inch of you is on display for him. Your face flushes as his hands meet the curve of your ass. He brings his hand down on your left cheek, and you're positive it will leave a mark.

You can't stop the whimper that leaves your throat.

You feel his coarse thumbs pull your center apart, and you clench your eyes shut. Fuck, this was the definition of embarrassing.

Arthur's tongue against your core is soft, but firm - and has your toes curling.

A wave of guilt washes over you. Hidden beneath the stress and fear, you were enjoying this. Arthur was doing you a favor, he was permanently linking himself to you. He was sabotaging his future for you, and you dared to enjoy it.  

Another broad lick against your core has your fingers reaching out for something to grasp. Arthur would be stuck to you until one of you died. Was this worth it?

He has you panting, and desperately searching for something to hold yourself up with. It's when his tongue dips inside of you that you let your head drop to the cold floor of the cellar.

"Such a precious little bitch, aren't you?" he chuckles darkly against your core. You feel one of his hands creep up your inner thigh, and make it's way to the center of your core. "Giving up my right for some little human. It's pathetic. If I didn't think you'd make a good bitch, I wouldn't bother with you."

Your eyebrows go up in surprise, this couldn't be Arthur. This had to be the other side of him speaking... This was the wolf. You don't reply, knowing if you tried to speak only whimpers would tumble out. Arthur brushes a finger against your core, and you clench upon instinct.

"None of that, sweetheart. You're being such a good girl. It'd be a shame if you ruined that now, wouldn't it?" he sneers.

You bite your lip, feeling the pressure of his finger against your entrance. Much to your surprise, it is no longer clawed. He delves the digit into you, and you have to stop yourself from whining. You had never felt something this intense, and you were beginning to wonder if you would survive this.

You're not sure how long or how many fingers he presses into you before you hear his belt buckle clank to the ground.

Your arms had long since given out, and the left side of your face was smushed down. You hear more rustling from behind you, and you know what's next.

You shut your eyes with a deep inhale.

Two massive clawed hands find your waist, and flip you onto your back.

You want to scream at the sight of Arthur.

He had fully turned.  

It's then that you notice, he can't seem to keep himself away from you. He's shoving your knees apart with his own, and his face nears yours dangerously. It's without warning that he enters you, and you nearly scream.

It wasn't nearly as painful as the time you had been stabbed, no... It was the factor of surprise that had you wailing out. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and you almost thank him when he stops moving. He is completely seated within you.

You can't stop yourself from trying to claw away from him, but his grip on your hips keeps you from escaping.

It takes everything within you not to sob when he presses a kiss to your lips. A growl rumbles from behind Arthur's teeth, and you know that he is only waiting on you.

The wolf was being nice and you weren't cooperating.

After a moment, you give him the 'go-ahead' nod.

You can't say you're expecting him to be gentle, but you're certainly not expecting him to pull entirely out of you to slam back into you. Finally, a tear slips out and rolls down your cheek. It only seems to spur the wolf into taking you harder than before.

The sound of skin against skin echos in the cellar. He brings his hips down and down again. There was still a gentle hint of Arthur beneath the tough exterior. You felt it because of the way he couldn't seem to keep his mouth off of you.

When the tears stopped, he moved on to bruising your lips with his own. You were going to suffocate if he kept this up. He breaks free of your lips, nudging his face between your shoulder and neck. Your ear tingles at the feeling of his soft huffs of air.

He lets out a groan, pressing wet kisses into the side of your neck.

"Say you're only mine," he demands from behind clenched teeth. His chest was brushing against your breasts with every rock of his hips. "Say it!"

"I'm yours, only yours," you chant. "I want only want you."

You had been convinced he was going to tear you in half, not five minutes earlier... Now, you were beginning to think you were made for Arthur.

He drags his tongue against the shell of your ear, giving you an affectionate lick. The words seemed to had pleased him, and you almost swore his guard came down for just a split second. He settles back to marking your neck, and you glance downwards. His body was glistening with sweat, and his nails were digging into your sides.

He had you captured, almost like you were his prey.

Arthur's thrusts never weaken, never slow. He fucks you with abandon, and you can only try to roll your hips upwards to match his pace. If it wasn't for his grip on your sides, you might've flown to the other side of the cell already. Your hands are helplessly grasping onto him, one hand is against his shoulder and the other is tangled into his locks.

"That's right," he hisses between thrusts. "You love this, don't you? After this, you're going to spend every minute you can wrapped around my cock, aren't you?"

You moan, feeling the coil inside of you begin to spark.

Arthur snaps his hips into you a little harder, demanding a response.

It takes a moment for you to shake yourself out of your daze, but when you do, you're crying his name. "Yes! Arthur, always. If you want it, I'll give it to yo-"

You squeak in pleasure, the sentence gets cut off. Arthur's fingers have found your clit, and he's rolling the tight nub in circles. Your head lolls backward, and you feel your muscles begin to seize up. You swear he feels bigger now than he did when he began fucking you.

You wanted this, you wanted to be his. There was no going back after this.

It takes only a few more rolls of your clit beneath his fingers for you to come. Your legs tighten around him, locking him to you. You swear you hear him giggle at the action, but you could be imagining it. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head as his canines sink into your neck.

You have to stop yourself from wiggling out of his grasp. You feel the tears from earlier build back up, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough to break the skin.

When he finally pulls away from your neck, it feels like venom is shooting into your veins. You wince as he drags his tongue over the wound, carefully. Arthur finally groans, his thrusting turning into grinding. You were like a ragdoll in his grip, trying to catch your breath.

You're so focused on the burning of your neck, you don't notice what's happening below. When you do, you're clambering upwards.

Arthur lifts his head from your neck, trying to see what you're doing. He notices your eyes of horror and his hands find your wrists. "Stop!" he commands.

You try to listen, eyes darting between him and your lower half.

"What is-" you try to ask, voice raspy and torn.

He shakes his head, using a hand to brush back your hair. "It's normal for werewolves, I should've warned you," he finally says. He grips your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

"It'll be okay," he states.

His eyes are watering and he keeps blinking slowly.

For some reason, you trust him. You trust his words, even after what had just happened. He presses a kiss against your lips, and you let your lips meld to his. Arthur's eyes are unfocused, and his expression makes him appear blissed out. It's clear that he's still not thinking clearly, and is gliding within the edge of his release.

He was filling you up to your brim, locking himself to you.

He lazily kisses you again, but you break away with a wince. He keeps dragging your attention away from your lower half, distracting you with kisses. It feels like forever before he slides out of you...

He cleans the two of you up, with the little that he did have.

"What now?" you mumble, not sure how to voice your concern.

"The nights not over with yet. Depending on my wolf, we'll fit in one more round. Then we're going to escape, and we'll go our separate ways," he replies, looking at you blankly.

Your heart almost stops when the last part comes out... After all this... No.

"You want to go separate ways?" you dumbly ask.

"Only if that's what you want," he says and peers at you. A spark of hope in his eyes betrays him, though. He was giving you an exit, he was giving you the option to leave him... Even though he would always be chained to you.

"I guess when we get out of here, we can go on a proper date. Does that sound okay with you?" you ask, a smile blooming on your lips.

You already knew his answer, but the way he smiles back confirmed it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is only my second RDR2 fanfic. I’m sorry if Arthur seemed very ooc in this. The MC of this story also kinda flipped personalities. I wrote this roughly two months ago, but just finished it tonight. It’s 4am. So, ignore the errors if you can. Thank you <3

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