#he;s a background goon at best

[vasfasan]

random spy guy (he's probably working for the soviets) (his name is probably misha) (its probably not a self-insert) (of course it is)

[hopefully-hellbound]

My submission (ha!) for @inkyquince 's Omega hunt collab! Turned out way longer than i intended but oh well

M!Briar X NB!Harpy!Defiant!PC

CW for dubcon, power imbalance, blood, Briar being Briar, group (in the literal background), manipulation

You run.

Starting off is the hardest, with all the alphas right on your tail, you jump to the side to avoid the mayor's slimy grasp, you let go of your school blazer when a slim woman grabs it.

Left and right you see other omegas being jumped, clothes torn and screams tearing out of their throats as theyre mounted - your friends, people you watched grow up with you. It's horrifying, you should stop and help, every instinct in you is telling you to help someone, anyone...

You see Robin ahead as they dart towards the beach, and that's enough for you.

Robin's safe, for now.

You run.

You're an athletic thing, clever and defiant, you've gotten a reputation in this town and while it usually helps people think twice about messing with you, today it paints a target on your back as everyone wants to be the one to claim the Scar, such a notorious little scrapper. You look to your right and see a man advancing, a well aimed kick to the groin seems to make him change his mind. He won't be the first tonight.

You reach the shopping mall and climb, hiding on top as you take a moment to just breathe, clear your mind.

Hard to achieve when your brain is getting foggy, slick coating your thighs from your persistently more aroused sex.

You're running out of time.

Think, you pause, think.

You run through your mind to try to think of a safe place in town, maybe a safe person that would take care of your heat without-

....

Doesn't exist.

Not inside the town, at least.

The thought would almost sadden you had you not lived your whole life in here. You have noone you could trust.

But outside of town...

You stand on the edge of the roof, one hand casually rubbing your crotch without you even noticing, as your sharp eyes scan the horizon.

Tower on the moor, you realize.

The one place noone would dare to come to.

Your spine tingles from the effort of hiding your true self, but you dont have to for long, because the entrance to the roof gets suddenly kicked down and you're facing Remy and his goons, advancing. Remy says something about farms and what a menace you are, but you grin, your eyes looking different when you open them again.

If you survive this night, it will be more than worth it just for seeing that rat bastard's face when you flipped him off and jumped right off of the edge.

Your strong wings glide you safely to the ground, and when you dont have to supress them, you feel a bit at ease - you can now focus fully on supressing your upcoming heat. Wind in your hair and Remy's shouting dying in the distance help, too.

But you land eventually, now with a goal in mind. If you can just make it to the moor, you're sure your mate will find you, and you'll spend the rest of the night draining his balls until he pleads for more. Sounds like the best scenario you could wish for, especially with Remy behind you and not around his farm.

..

You shouldn't think about your mate's thick cock in you, the way it slithers out of the little slit in his body. The way he's so easy to pin down once you straddle him, lets you-

You whine audibly and nearly collapse, just the thoughts clouding your brain with lust that you can't afford right now. Youre in the industrial backstreets, and thats a terrible place to collapse at. You think you should try to make it to the coast and then fly as far as you can, youre sure your mate will find you if you just set your foot to the moor, you're sure, just have to-

You're tackled to the ground just when you're running past the docks, and you beat off your initial instinct of just... Getting in the mating pose. Baring yourself to the attacker, the sweet heavy weight on top of you just-

"Fuck!! You goddamn-"

"Bring them in already!"

"Fucker bit me!!"

Oh no.

He's not alone.

What's worse is, you don't know any of them. The thought of just being claimed by some rando is enough to set the fire of defiance alight once more, and you fight, oh how much you fight them. You need to be restrained by four men to stop you from lifting off of the ground, three men to hold your strong wings down to prevent you from whacking them with it. Your elbow hits someone's face in the most satisfying crunch, you smell blood in the air and it fills you with a bit of pride.

You'll have to fuck my corpse if you want me, you think, but much to your horror, they don't want you.

You dont smell alphas, just betas, and you shout insults as vile as you can think of while they drag you into a mysterious building you've never entered before.

Then the smell really hits you.

You've always wandered where town's betas and less strong alphas go to during those hunts - now you know. The place reeks of sex and despair and people, you see a few poor omegas being passed around, blank eyes and drooly faces as every open hole of theirs is violated by a lust-blinded alpha or beta. One hasnt been broken in yet, you recognize the girl from the orphanage, the one who always lost her backpack and you'd help her find it, shes stuffed with two thick cocks in her ass, her useless cock hard and dripping... Her scream when the man behind her bites down on her neck rips your heart apart, it's the most horrifying sound you've ever heard, enough to freeze you in place for a good second.

Doors behind you lock and the men start grabbing at your clothes, you're tremblind with lust but you cant end up like this, you won't!

Your eyes panickly scan the room for a way out, any way out, anything but being left at mercy of those animals. Doors are locked with chains, windows are blocked, heavy scent of hormones and sex is making your head so dizzy you know it's only a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, before you're reduced to nothing but a cock hungry omega.

Then your eyes meet his.

It's one man that sits above everyone, the VIP section of whatever godforsaken facility youve been dragged into. He sits calmly, legs spread like he owns the place, long brown hair falling to his shoulders. Open blazer with nothing underneath, showing off a golden necklace, rose tattoos. Something about him radiates power, but what really drives you in, is the shine of gold decorating each of his fingers, makes your stupid bird brain chirp in interest.

That should do, you think.

Better than some random.

You were so busy you hadn't even noticed a man nosing around your scent gland, it makes you shiver in disgust, but you stick your hand in your pants' pocket for the last pepper spray you have on you - it's now or never. His scream is music to your ears but you push him aside, you bite, kick, flail your wings around until everyone lets go of you for one precious moment- and you rise from the floor, fly all across the room.

Only to collapse in front of the pretty man and his pretty rings.

He cocks an eyebrow, but raises his hand to stop his beta guards from attacking you.

"It's not a threat - are you, darling?~"

His voice is like a symphony to your ears, so rich and smooth. You think you'd hate his smugness usually, but today it makes your juices overflow.

Alpha, alpha, breed me, mark-

You shake your head like a wet dog, but train of thoughs has left the station and you're just trying to run after it, hold onto any semblence of yourself.

"And what are you, an angel?"

He's so calm, but you can smell him, not an alpha on supressants. Just one in control.

You're on your knees by his feet, and look at him, at the man making a couch look like a throne the way he sits on it.

"If- if you want me to be."

You manage to get out, rising on your knees, your hands running up his legs, to his thighs. He seems amused.

"Is that so."

You nod your head ferociously, only for him to experimentally place his hand on top of it, and you downright purr. You know your wings and tail are all puffed out behind you, his touch -and those rings- feels just so right...

He craddles your chin and you melt in his touch, the defiance he saw when watching you fight off his men seemingly completely gone.

"And what brought you here, darling? To my feet?~"

"Y-your men."

You know they work for him, there's no other way. The world should work for him, you think, for him and his pretty eyes like emeralds.

"Mmm... But they only brought you to this place, you went to my feet all on your own~"

Fuck me! you want to scream, the conversation is killing you despite how pretty his voice is - his cock is inches away from you, and you move forward to try to mouth at it through his pants, get the point across.

The slap you recieve sends you flying, you fall on your ass and look at him with wide open eyes.

"Don't be crude now, darling. You think you deserve this?"

He smiles down at you, and your bottom lip trembles - rejection might make you cry, you realize, even though you haven't cried in years.

"Please." you mutter, shaking hand holding on your cheek, your lip where the rings broke it. You hope you're pretty with some blood on you, you hope he thinks so.

"Please, dont- don't let them..."

You still hear omegas screaming behind you, you want anything but that and this man is your last hope.

"I'll- i'll do anything, i'm good at- at t-things..."

"Oh? And what things would that be, darling?~"

You sigh happily at the nickname, it feels so good, someone nice to you... You're not sure if you can speak much anymore, your pants are soaked through and through from just how wet you are. You just lean forward and set something in his hand as your answer.

The man stares in amusement at his own ring that you stole and returned, and he had no idea. It's a pretty one, gold with a ruby, it's shaped like a dragon wrapping around itself, ruby is his eye.

"You can steal?~"

"A-and fight! And fly and run and- a-and-"

Your words get lost as you try to think of more, any more skills that could be useful to such a man, but a wave of heat hits you harder than any before, and you topple over, hands between your legs with a whimper.

"please..."

"You poor thing~"

His foot is so close to yor face like this, it nudges at your cheek. Fancy shoes, you recognize in the distant corner of your brain. Real leather. He doesnt have to do much more to prompt you, your lips are on it before you even know what youre doing.

You are vaguely aware of how much you're gonna hate yourself when this is done, how quickly you were reduced to licking a stranger's shoe just to get them to fuck you, but youre past the point of caring.

Your hand sneaks in your pants and you shove two fingers inside of yourself, you're so wet they go in without a problem, your otherwise unused hole... The man's rough grip on your hair stops you though, he pulls your head up.

"I don't remember allowing you to do that, little bird."

You whine like a beaten dog, but good news are, you can see his crotch now. And just how much tighter those pants look all of sudden.

"Oh you poor, weak minded creature... You really want to be mine that badly?"

Tears pour down your cheeks, blood from your split lip. You want to be his, yes, he put it right, you think you're going to die if you don't get his cock in you right fucking now.

Luckily, his pupils are blown wide open, cock straining against his pants. In control or not, he's still an alpha, and he can't resist a leaking omega slobbering over his feet.

You cry out in relief when he yank you on his lap, sobbing out little 'thank you's and 'please's and 'take me's.

"Don't expect me to be this nice to you next time, little bird."

He sighs in your ear and you know, you just know, that on any other day, you'd hate him. His smug smile and predatory eyes. Hands that now hold your waist as you can't get your pants off fast enough. Heart that beats right under where your nails scratch his exposed skin.

Then you finally get to sit on his cock and feel so stupid to think that you could ever hate someone that feels so right inside you.

Your wings puff out the moment the world washes away, thick alpha cock filld you up and you can do nothing but sob and hold onto him tighter. Tighter so that he can't ever push you away again.

"I love you i love you alpha please please alpha-"

Words spill from your mouth when he pounds into you from below, grunts coming from him too as he finally loses his composure.

Right there, in omega hell, he shows you the heaven - and you love and hate him so much for that.

He's the one who gasps and grabs your hair and pulls you in a kiss, wide open green eyes burning into yours as if he can't look away from your strange bird pupils. His hands dont leave your wings, the place where skin meets the feathers is so sensetive and you see stars when he grabs onto it. Using your wings as handles as he fucks you bent over the couch, any composure he had lost the more time he spends pounding away in that beautiful, perfect, soaking wet little hole of yours.

His guards arent sure where to look.

You aren't sure how much time has passed, how many times you've cum around him, but you're sitting on the couch, legs around his waist as he fucks into you, when you start to feel him get sloppier. Deeper.

You know what's coming - hint, it's him.

It's a beautiful moment, you vaguely think while you plead him to breed you.

You get to see his wild face, hair out of place, green eyes clouded with lust. Reduced to an animal. Animal with fangs out, you vaguely notice, and in response turn your head away so he could reach your scent gland, and he does, he doesn't even have the mind to stop himself. He bites down and he's yours and youre his and he's yours.

You chirp like a bird when he finally comes, fils you up, his knot so big it keeps all of him stuffed inside of you without any leaks. His tongue is feverishly licking at his bitemark on your gland, the bond that connects you, now and forever.

You feel a sense of pride, again.

Man this powerful, who seemed this put together, in control.

He belongs to you now.

You see it in his eyes when they clear up and he's aware of what he's just done, and you grin in response at your mate.

"... Tricky little bird."

The man mutters, and you bring his hand close to your exhausted face, kissing his knuckles. Kissing every ring, tongue wrapping around each finger once he shoves them in your mouth.

He's yours and you're his, forever.

Those rings should now also be yours, you think.

The man doesn't protest when you take the dragon one and slide it on your own hand, he maybe likess how your tired eyes light up with greed when you see it around your thumb - every other finger too small for it.

"Uh... Briar? What now?"

One of the guards anxiously asks, struggling to hide his own erection, and his boss frowns as he notices.

"... I'll think about it in the morning. Make sure everything's cleaned up by the time we open."

He picks you up, still stuck on his knot, and you wrap your hands around his shoulders, sighing in content.

You don't feel like you've lost the fight tonight, oddly.

It's confirmed when Alpha takes you to his room, his bed, pretending he wants to get some rest and not feeling that craving to take you to a nest.

You're still stuck on him when you cuddle up to go to sleep, pressing a kiss he can't bring himself to refuse on his neck.

You'll be fine, you think.

You can use the curse nature gave you to your advantage now.

You play with the shint necklace around his neck as you slowly drift to sleep - the necklace has a pendant with a letter B on it.

Briar, huh?

Your property has a name now. And more shiny things than anyone in town, it seems.

And now its all yours.

[nanayuz]

my pokémon hz headcanons. so far.

liko seems about 12-13 just a bit older than ash when he started his pokémon journey. and roy hasn’t debuted yet, but i picture him to be the same age, since they gave off similar vibes in the trailers! i headcanon liko as questioning, since she doesn't really seem to know herself yet. i don't know enough about roy to hc him as anything, rly. liko is 5'1" and roy is 5'0", since i do think liko would be just a bit taller. we'll see.

all the background students seem to be 12-16, maybe even younger. ann is also 12, and btw, she’s the best character. just so you know. idc what flavor of gay she is but she just is. and she's the same height as liko.

people are saying amethio is 14, and honestly, there is absolutely no way this clearly grown teenager with a seemingly high position job and two goons following him around is 14. i think he’s about 17-19, since he’s in his teens. he's referred to as a man, and pretty older than liko in the first two episodes. i think he's pan/demiromantic and ace. he's very gender, might end up hcing him as trans.

his two goons, zir and conia, seem to be just older than team rocket, maybe 25-27 or perhaps even older. they haven't really gotten their moments to shine yet, though. amethio seems pretty tall, but maybe it's just because he's so much taller than liko. let's say 5'8"-5'9". zir and conia are just a bit taller.

i didn't like friede when we first found out about him because of how similar to kukui he seemed, but now i kinda fucking love him. people are saying he's 28, also an age i think is pretty off. maybe it's cuz i headcanon kukui in his early-mid 20's, but i really feel like friede is too. maybe around 21-24. friede gives off very bisexual, and since he's taller than amethio, i think he's around 6'0".

for the rest of his gang, let's see. i think orio is friede's age and mollie is a bit older, but murdock is older than all of them. except landau, but i don't know what's up with him. none of them really got a huge part in these first two episodes, but i really wanna make more headcanons for them. i love em.

i do have a few ships, some rarepairs, but i'll keep em to myself for now.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 087

Yeah, Goku and 17 are fighting space poachers in this episode, but I want you to check out this cool kittycat that Marron is drawing. 

This episode has some really spectacular backgrounds.  Episode 86 did as well.  Just wanted to appreciate it a little before we get going.

All right, so Goku is at the nature preserve where 17 works as a ranger, and he’s trying to convince him to join the team for the Tournament of Power.   But 17′s not interested.  Goku’s made-up prize money, the threat of universal annihilation, nothing sways the guy.  Goku tells him about the Super Dragon Balls, but before he can get too far into that, a spaceship appears over the island and does an alien abduction on all the animals.

Goku teleports 17 aboard, where they find a bunch of alien creatures all stuck in cages.  17 guesses that these are space poachers, who go from planet to planet, capturing rare animals to sell.

Their leader seems to have a particular interest in the Earth’s minotaur, whose horns are said to be the ingredient in an immortality elixir.  Not that anyone knows if it would work, but he’d still make a fortune selling it to someone who believes. 

I like his top goons.  The standard issue goons aren’t anything special, but I like the pink laser swords and red armor.  It looks Ancient Roman without looking too Ancient Roman, you know?

While 17 confronts the leader, Goku has to handle the small fry.  I mean, they’re okay, I guess. 

Anyway, the head space poacher has a bomb in his body, and he threatens to set it off and kill everyone on board unless Goku and 17 walk away.  If they leave, at least some of the animals will survive, even if they aren’t returned.

After the commercial bumper, the dude presses the button and destroys the ship, but the colors are off, like it’s a flashback to some other episode.

Then Beerus wakes up, and it turns out that he had a nightmare about Goku dying in an exploding spaceship.  All righty.

Back in the real world, 17 tells Goku to give his regards to his family, then tackles the space poacher through the window and out of the ship.  His plan is to sacrifice himself to save the animals, but before it can come to that....

... Goku uses Instant Transmission to save them both, and takes them to King Kai’s planet.  He explains that this was where he dropped off Cell when he was threatening to self-destruct, so it seemed like the best move.  “It’s like poetry,” Goku says.  “It rhymes.”

Then Dende contacts Goku telepathically and informs him that the space poacher was bluffing about that bomb.  How would Dende know that?  17 forces him to press the button on the remote, and this causes fireworks and streamers to come out of his nose.  Okay...

He says something about his brother’s birthday party, but whatever.

So they call in Jaco, who impounds the poacher ship, and all the Earth animals are returned to the island. 

Jaco plans to take all the credit for this bust, as he’s been looking for these space poachers for years.  Goku complains that Jaco didn’t even do that much, but who cares?  He’ll probably stop for ramen again and all the space poachers will escape.

With that wrapped up, 17 tells Goku that he will be entering the Tournament of Power after all, since he always wanted to tour the world on a cruise liner with his family, and he could use the Super Dragon Balls to wish for his own ship.  I’m not sure anything in this space poacher adventure really changed 17′s mind, but we’ll just go with it.

17 finds it ironic that he’ll be teaming up with Goku, since he was originally designed to kill him, but Goku is used to this, since Tien, Piccolo, and Vegeta all started out as his enemies too.  So it all works out.

[thatanimewriter]

UNDERGROUND.

➳ request: Hello, can i ask pyrrha with a gn mafia boss s/o who is a private person who has a dangerous semblance and hides it from pyrrha due to fear of pyrrha be disgusted by them and pyrrha doesn't knew that s/o is  vale's no 1 underground boss until s/o need to save pyrrha from cinder and told they're underling to fight off the grims and the white fang during the battle for beacon when the battle is over pyrrha ask about s/o's semblance and s/o confess to pyrrha about their semblance and how they become a mafia boss

➳ character/s: pyrrha nikos

➳ warnings: swearing, mentions of death and injuries, spoilers for volume 3 onwards 

➳ notes: thanks for requestinggg @unlikelyturtlelad​

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

──  𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐑𝐇𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐒.

probably was a little bit upset that you never told her

but idk how you were supposed to go

“hello, my love, i’m the most renowned mafia boss in vale with the highest kill count and when i kill someone, i just carry their soul with me forever and i can hear everyone kinda talkin in the background while i do my shit, but i can release them and it’s some serious body horror type stuff and it hurts like a bitch, but it is a good intimidation tactic :))”

...

honestly, that probably is the best way to summarise it but you don’t wanna get into that conversation when you can pretend to be a normal person, yknow???

you have no clue how to break it to her that you’re not actually a villain, even if you’re mafia-involved

all you did was steal something from the schnee family because fuck jacques

n now you’re a public enemy-

and you don’t know how to explain your distaste for ozpin

or ozpin’s distaste for you

ozpin just doesn’t like you cause you know his secret

i guess that’s the one benefit for mafia involvement

but you absolutely hate the whole maiden project cause you know it won’t work against salem but he’s trying anyway

n then pyrrha came to you to tell you about her being the next fall maiden-

and she can safely say she’s never seen you so angry

maybe even a little scary since your semblance started to flair up with your anger

a dark red fog starting to swirl around you and eyes forming from within the fog

she claimed she would be ok, but you knew better than she did this time

but first, she had to make sure ozpin would be ok, because she was 90% you were gonna kill him

this was especially evident when you found out she’d gone after cinder by herself from jaune

with a sigh, you made some hand signals to send your goons to deal with the white fang and grimm in your stead while you went to go find your girlfriend with a hero complex

naturally, cinder is aware of your existence

and she knows very well what you’re capable of

so when she’s nearly about to shoot an arrow into pyrrha’s chest, she hesitates when she sees the thick fog circle around the room, creating a dome shape

now, pyrrha knew about that part

but she wasn’t prepared for your body to warp in ways it really shouldn’t have ever warped

layered screams of agony echoed throughout your little dome as you drew your weapon and promptly forced cinder to aim at you instead of pyrrha

but it’s ok, as fucking terrified as she is, she knows she’s safe 

she thinks-

when things are over

things being cinder’s ass kicked and knocked the fuck out and a pleasant smile on your face after hearing ozpin is dead

which was quickly wiped off when you realised he’d just reincarnate

but surely you wouldn’t have to deal with him again, right??

wrong

but when you’re in the infirmary gettin everyone patched up, pyrrha has some QUESTIONS

you answer them

but answering 1 question leads to 5 more

in the end, she’s glad that she has someone like you to keep her safe

but she never wants to hear the screams of many people in her ears all at once ever again

she tried to ensure that, but you just said

“no promises”

because who knows when you need to use it again in this strange, strange world

and if you ever see ozpin again, you’re gonna want to use it anyway

just for putting pyrrha in danger on purpose and knowing what she was going against but still decided to go through with it anyway

[sanctified-sanctuary]

I won’t have time to add them to my carrd for a while so quick reference for the old new goon squad 🤪

Liam “Jekyll” Hyde- hellhound shifter demon, he’s in his late-mid 20s, He/Him, big idiot who rushes into situations head first but is also the first to laugh at the consequences. Long dark red hair that’s pulled half up usually but still in his face, light tan with dark freckles all over his body and long claw scars from his chest over his shoulder down his back and a supernaturally large bite scar on his shoulder. His eyes are green into gold toward the iris, the gold takes over the more he shifts eventually also darkening his sclera. He grew up on the infernal plane with other hellhounds until he was summoned by Hunter, at which point he agreed to be their familiar and spent his time split between earth and infernal planes from his early teens. He’s the largest personality and the leader of the pack if you will, but he’s also the bleeding heart always taking in strays it’s in his nature

Hunter (WIP last name)- infernal witch 3/4 human 1/4 incubus on their mother’s side, they’re half a year older than Jekyll, They/Them, a bit heavy on the sarcasm but very approachable/caring. Shorter light hair, they tend to dye it vibrant hues but it is naturally a whitish color, somewhat pale with no noticeable blemishes save for hidden enchanted tattoos. Their eyes are a light blue with a violet shift, more prominent when they’re practicing magic or using their demonic influence. They grew up with their dad as a single parent, summoned Jekyll when they realized they had bloodline magic and wanted to have a friend around that would understand since other kids saw them as weird with their mom’s mysterious background. Definitely an enabler and sarcastic best friend type, a bit more parental of the group but will encourage dumbass behavior too

Adora “D” Nova- succubus, she’s the youngest though only by a few months and still in her late-mid 20’s, She/Her, a ray of sunshine guaranteed to lighten the mood when she steps into the room she’s also the most emotionally intelligent/developed. Split color hair falls past her shoulders in a shag cut, one side a deep copper and the other a medium warm blonde dyed or natural she’ll never tell, her light skin has a few beauty marks and a dark gothic winged heart tattoo on her lower stomach. (She’ll tell you it’s a “succubus birth mark” but she got it tattooed on a dare on Earth when she was 19) Her eyes tend to shift color depending on the environment and if she’s exerting any influence, they’re normally a deep burnt maroon red that lighten to a brighter raspberry pink when using her talents. She also grew up on the infernal plane and made friends with Jekyll when they were late teens, eventually sparked up a romantic relationship in their young adult into early 20s that’s more or less on again off again because the lines between friends and lovers has already been blurred. She hangs out with the pack as often as possible, though she does pop back and forth between the planes more than anyone else she makes plenty of time to drag the crew along to seedy dive bars for post punk shows on the regular and they all blend right in

Zeke (WIP last name)- ((more of a secondary muse if you have good rp ideas it helps to bring his muse out!)) demon? (He refuses to disclose), he says he’s the oldest by a year but he’s cagey about the exact numbers late 20s, He/Him, unsettling and occasionally uncanny yet he’s the comic relief of any tense situation. He also frequently dyes his hair, typically shades of muted blues and greens, it’s trimmed tight on the sides and loose on top purposefully messy, he sports a tan that comes and goes with the seasons when he isn’t pasty white. His eyes are a light brown with metallic flakes that catch in the light, it doesn’t seem they glow or change at all with talent use but there is a sharpness to them that’s otherworldly even among hellhounds and other-planar beasts. He met the group on earth when they were all 19-21 ish at a house show and they clicked instantly, he mostly hangs out with the group and prefers to not be on his own unless he’s set on a mission (usually it’s a snack run- this man can eat). He’s dodgy about personal information and can be generally unsettling to be around if you’re unfamiliar with him, but he does his best to quell those feelings in other people when he speaks to them.

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Expendables 4

I believe we're all familiar with the term "too little, too late" correct? Well that's especially true for this installment of a dying now dead franchise. The first film was campy fun with a healthy amount of blood, guts and a promise that was to see the action legends of the past come together in a massive film. That promise was fulfilled and then we got a sequel that doubled down. The second film improved on everything the first film did and fulfilled the dream of seeing the big 3 action stars of the 80's together on screen gunning down goons in the most explosive and violent way possible. Then the franchise went completely off the rails with its PG-13 third entry. The franchise really lost its identity by trying to pander to the younger audience by watering down the best elements of the franchise and over crowding the film with the popular stars at the time. Now comes this entry that desperately tries to get back on track with it being the hyper violent action driven vehicle it started out as. Well, it got the violence part right but after that, we are treated to one of the dumbest, lackluster and uninteresting action films I've seen in quite some time. Not only are most of the action scenes so boring, the characters themselves are tired and should have retired along time ago. The novelty this franchise used to be have was all but drained from this sequel and I was so sad watching it happen.

Sylvester Stallone returns as Barney Ross and he still has the same charm as the character. He finally admits he's starting to get too old for his life style and is gone shortly after for most of the film. Jason Statham returns as his best friend Lee Christmas and he continues to be a fun character. The chemistry between them was the heart of the franchise and it continues here for the most part. Megan Fox joins the franchise as Lee's new girlfriend and CIA operator, Gina. Megan has done good work before, but this was by far her worst performance as she only is there for eye candy and delivering the worst onscreen chemistry I've ever seen between two "lovers". Randy Couture returns as Toll Road and he still does the same thing he's done since the first film. He delivers many random facts that somehow returns to him talking about his ear. Dolph Lundgren returns as Gunner Jensen and I still enjoy seeing his character go through many life changes. The character has shown real progress since his drunken days in the original and I liked that he has controlled that demon. Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson joins the team as Easy Day and he does his job. There really wasn't anything special about the character and he typically just fades into the background even when he's front and center. The great Tony Jaa joins the team as a former Expendable, Decha. There was a fun story that surrounded the character even though it was nothing you haven't seen before. I still enjoyed his presence on screen and when he gets to fighting, its still a joy to watch. Jacob Scipio joins as the son of former Expendable Galgo, Galan. He tries to capture that same energy that Antonio Banderas had in the previous film and that's basically it. Andy Garcia was all over the place as CIA Agent Marsh. He delivers his trademark charm in the beginning and the swings for the fences by the end of the film. He truly was having fun with the character and you could tell. The amazing Iko Uwais was the main protagonist of the film, Suarto Rahmat and what a waste. Sure he gets to show his amazing martial arts prowess, but that’s all. He wasn't menacing or even really that much of a threat once you get to the heart of his plot. He almost felt like a F1 racer stuck in the bus lane in a school pick up area. He never really got to open up against a worthy opponent.

The score by Guillaume Roussel was nothing special. It was a decent backing track to the action in the film and accents the few emotional moments in the film. The action in the film was somewhat decent, but truly lacked the joyous feel of playing with your favorite action figures the others had. It all felt cheaply made and even more so with over use of CGI for a franchise known for its practical stunts. The extreme close ups in the middle of all the fights truly showed the lack of skill in filming and design of action sequences. This film really knocked the genre back a few decades and I was sorely disappointed and bored. Honestly, if you have any curiosity in seeing this hopefully final chapter, don't waste your money and wait for streaming. This is undoubtedly one of the worst films of 2023. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[valhala90]

Shall we date? Love Tangle, Dean's story review

Dean is a brave cop, and his story didn't look appealing at first glance, while Wylder seemed more compelling since I dig the artist-eccentric vibe they were going for in the common route. My expectations tanked, and both stories are meh at best.

Let's get straight into Dean's route because I have a lot to say.

I gave Dean's route 3 out of 5 stars because I liked some parts, and I guess I liked the possibility of what it could have been rather than the mediocre execution. Dean's survivor's guilt was not handled well, and that's my biggest issue. The author(s) addresses parts of it in the last two chapters, which totally fucks the consistency of the story. Maybe you never watched Lethal Weapon, but in that movie, you have a character named Martin Riggs (played by Mel Gibson). I won't get into the history of the character and will just address the first movie where he's introduced as a depressed cop driven by the grief and pain of losing his wife in a car accident, so he regularly puts himself and others in danger, hoping that he will die or that someone will kill him. This total disregard for his own life makes him completely fearless, turning him into a "lethal weapon." I didn't mention this just to promote a great movie, rather, Dean's story was supposed to be similar to the above-mentioned character, but they completely and utterly failed.

I understand that the writer(s) wanted to keep his history a secret in the common route, but you could tell right off the bat when watching Riggs that something was wrong with him, while with Dean, you don't get that impression since most of his statements and dialogues are fine.

When I read it for the first time I was like, this guy is super brave and passionate about his work and wants to save people at all costs, but in the last two chapters they turned it into: he does that because he doesn't value his life.

He thinks he should have died with his family in that accident and feels guilty because he stayed home.

Couldn't you introduce that a bit earlier in HIS story? Like making him reckless when he didn't need to be? Because both times when he risked his life, MC was in serious danger. He pulled Wylder out of the fire and tried to protect him, so what the fuck? Isn't that what most police officers do in real life?

Another thing that annoyed me is that the author of the story gave Dean, a man in his prime, sentences of a 70-year-old man.

The background plot is as ridiculous as ever, with so many "lucky" coincidences. When the moment comes for Dean to tell MC about his past, it's done so unnaturally that you lose interest because the story is like a written report rather than engaging storytelling, and MC is there to take notes and try to resolve shit. I must say that the elements of this story are good, but the writing goes from mediocre to bad and cringe as fuck.

Dean's speaking again like this:

The scenes that should be the best and let me down the most are the lab scene and the hospital scene.

So the whole premise of the story is MC finding some magical bullshit plant that can cure diseases, and she's researching it for the leopard's sake and for the sake of future achievements in medicine. She's warned a few times that a big pharmaceutical company is after her findings and that they will stoop at nothing. The big culmination scene is some goons coming in at her workplace to take away her research and are called "Mafia 1 and 2" I shit you not.

Julia is all defiant and shit and quickly pieces together that the p. company has to be behind it.

No shit Sherlock.

While they aren't paying attention since they came out of a cartoon, she slams the alarm and one of the goons wants to shoot her.

Dean appears in 0.5 seconds and hits the guy who held her at gunpoint. The other one grabs Julia as a hostage and shoots Dean in the abdomen. Is this what is supposed to hint to us that he's an unhinged cop wanting to die? I think not. I see him as someone wanting to protect the girl he loves because he was in the area since he mentioned he will be patrolling around her workplace. However, Dean quickly disposes of him and shoots the guy in the shoulder. He then tries to interrogate him when Mafia 1 sets off the sprinklers in some dumbass way because of the plot and escapes, while Dean collapses due to his wound and makes the death speech but it holds no emotional weight since we know he'll survive because this ain't that kind of game.

The hospital scene was where the game made me pause and return a couple of days later. So, Dean is in the hospital, Julia is by his side and so is Wylder. After guilting MC into thinking that Dean will die if he constantly risks her life for her, Wylder also attacks Dean when he wakes up.

He says that he should think about the suffering of the people who he saved, risking his life, and I'm like:

The next idiotic moment comes when Julia and Dean are alone in his hospital room. They hug and Julia tells him how worried she was for him, and he replies if it meant saving her, he would gladly give his life. I'm like: aww dude, you really care about her, huh? MC is like: no dude, I want you alive, don't throw your life away for me.

And here is the moment that I mentioned. I get what they wanted to say but the writing doesn't support it. It comes off as if she was telling him that risking his life for civilians is throwing his life away, which is ridiculous given that he's a police officer. It's not a coping mechanism, it's just their bravery and selflessness, and kindness.

Dean states that he thinks he's atoning for the death of his family by saving people, so it feels off to me? Is it just me? Nah, it's the writing. You see, Dean's deal is, and I grasped what they wanted to say only when I read it carefully the second time, not because I missed something but because they are that incapable of getting their points across - he doesn't value his life at all and doesn't hesitate to expose himself to danger, that's why he jumps in front of a knife, gun, etc. That's a whole different matter than doing your duty as a cop, and I mentioned Riggs as an example of that. The part with Wylder needs to be rewritten, where he would clearly state that although Dean saved him, he had no intention of saving himself or something.

For example, he pushed him out of the way to safety and froze there looking at the fire because he remembered his family or something similar and stood there waiting to die, and Wylder's shouts snapped him awake or whatever. Would make much more sense, especially the thing Julia said at the hospital. And this should have been introduced earlier on in the story not at the end.

I mentioned this in some of my other reviews, both lovers need to learn something from one another and work together towards a goal of some sort, in this case, Julia helping him value his life and overcome the trauma of the past, while he helps her get the needed courage to persevere through the corrupted world and pressure around her. It could have been so wholehearted.

Everything gets patched up and resolved in a matter of seconds, without proper mental and emotional healing, since Dean is like I found you MC, and my problems are gone, leaving you with what the fuck did I just read and gave money on? (Bought premium route) Apparently, on good tropes that were ruined by shitty writing with the abundance of cringe.

[leoyoons]

—THE DAREDEVIL ( 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ), 𝕃𝔼𝕆 𝕐𝕆𝕆ℕ

✦⋆ CONNECTIONS ✦⋆ PINTEREST ✦⋆ PLAYLIST

FIRSTLY, SOME BASICS

FULL NAME: Leonora Everly Yoon PREFERRED NICKNAME: Leo ( call her Nora at your own risk ) PREFERRED PRONOUNS: currently she/hers, but she’s reevaluating DATE OF BIRTH: April 1st, 2000 ( aries sun,  pisces moon, aquarius rising ) [ Leonora was born two months premature; her dad thought it was a joke but lo and behold, Odessa’s water had really gone and broken on April Fools ] ZODIAC SIGNS: aries sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising ( une ) AGE: Twenty-Two but she feels ancient HOMETOWN: born and raised in Gravewood, WV FAMILY: George Yoon ( father, sheriff ), Odessa-Marie Yoon ( mother, waitress ), Feodore Avery Yoon ( older brother & Yoon golden boy ) OCCUPATION: Ice Skating Attendant & Teacher at the Windsor Ice Rink SEXUAL ORIENTATION: she’s not for the streets, but it’s the whole spectrum ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: re: last line [ —the rest can be found in the DOSSIER: additional background information, physicalities and personality stuff among other things! ] 

WHAT’S IN MY BAG: The Shape of Water by Daniel Kraus, A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan, a sketchbook she’s been filling up with still-lifes and stuff, and an empty planner her dad gave her SENIOR SUPERLATIVE(s): class clown, life of the party, best smile CURRENT QUOTE(s): “the feminine urge to enter a hell of my own making” “who the fuck decided to call it emotional baggage and not griefcase?” TV PARALLELS: Gina ( Brooklyn 99 ), Winston ( New Girl ), Montana ( Do Revenge ), Orla McCool ( Derry Girls ), Sokka ( ATLA ), Ruthie ( Shrill ), Willie Jack ( Reservation Dogs ), Guillermo ( What We do in the Shadows ), Sperncer Shay ( iCarly ) TROPES: Allergic to Routine, Annoying Laugh, The Chew Toy, Cloudcuckoolander, Cool Loser, Crouching Moron Hidden Badass, Deadpan Snarker, Endearingly Dorky, Erudite Stoner, I Just Wanna Be Special, Jack of All Stats, Kaleidoscope Hair, Once Done Never Forgotten, Sad Clown

SECONDLY, A LIGHT OUTLINE

✧ No one would really admit it, but Leonora was that baby that married couples have when they’re on the brink of divorce— she was meant to fix George and Odessa’s failing relationship but the novelty of a new baby faded soon enough as her parents returned to their old routine, the new baby falling to the wayside. 

✧ Even so, they’d never gotten around to the divorce. Babies are like monkey’s paws in that way and neither one of them wanted to go through with a divorce when they’d gone and had another baby to care for. Through the mess of their marriage, they loved each other still, and those legals proceedings would only be inconvenient.  

✧ After his paternity leave had come and gone, George went back to working his long hours in the Sheriff’s office and Odessa was left home with a toddler and a newborn. She’d spend all day feeling alone at home, tending to the home and her kids; trying and failing to rekindle the love they’d cultivated in their adolescence.  

✧ While Leonora and her older brother were babbling little ones then, kids can still sense these things. Leo was a fussy girl herself, and she’d always demanded more attention than her mother was willing to give. Once she’d started crawling, her mother set her down in a little corral and left her to her own devices. 

✧ Most of her infancy was spent that way, her mother holding her at arms length as she reached out to her. George was a little better, though his own love came in bursts and then fizzled out entirely— he’d never had much energy when he came home, and most of the time he’d set her on his chest and doze off. 

✧ Toddlerhood was a little easier on Leo, if only because she’d had access to other forms of distraction ( unfortunately for her mother, these were messy ). She’d started painting around this time, though it’s something all kids do, right? Must be the same with the colorful handprints all over the walls which pissed her mom off to no end.

✧ Life teaches Leo to be loud and messy— those are the most surefire ways to get her mother’s attention: throwing food at her brother, running a crayon along the surface of the fridge. Anything to get her parents’ attention, though hindsight would say these acts only pushed her mother further away than before. 

✧ By the time Leo and her brother are in elementary school, Odessa’s thinking of joining the workforce. Desperate for anything that will get her out of the house, she applies for a waitressing job at Marie’s. The pay is minimal but the work fills whatever hole in her heart George has left. She needed this.

✧ It’s obvious then why she turned out the way she did: needy, nosy, annoying and whatever else the other kids would call her during her childhood. Leo hadn’t learned how to separate the good press from the bad; so long as someone was looking at her she’d felt like a sunflower facing the sun, and that would be her undoing in the end. 

✧ Puberty hits a girl like a ton of bricks then and it only gets worse. At home she’d had no audience save her brother and he’s gone and tired of her shit. He was hanging out with his own group of friends and she’d grown ungrateful of the ones that had allowed her in their own circle; she’d go and ruin them soon enough.

✧ One risky dare starts it all and then she’s flying higher and higher towards the sun in one massive Icarian feat before the wax on her wings start melting. Icarus’ own father warned him about his recklessness, and her own had gone and put her in handcuffs. When she’s high as a kite, she thinks about how tragically poetic that is.

✧ Fuck up first, apologize later is all fun and games until you’ve gone and burned all your bridges. Leonora now exists in a limbo of her own creation, not knowing how to move forward though everything she’s done keeps her from turning back. ‘I’m sorry’ seems meaningless at the end of the line, but what else is new.

✦ keeping myself from adding more so we can fill in the gaps together? ✦

THIRDLY, SOME HCS

Leo wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD until the latter years of Middle School; while she knows this is due in part to the socialization of girls and all of that, it digs the ‘your parents really went and overlooked you’ knife a little deeper.

The first time she ever put ink on her skin, it was because of a dare ( go figure ). Leonora could choose whatever design she wanted so long as the ink went on her lower back; the pain of getting her tramp stamped nearly killed her.

If memory serves her well, Leo first bleached her hair the day before the first of high school. She’d thought to make it subtle to keep her mom from freaking out, but once it was said and done she didn’t even try to hide it.

Foster Home for Imaginary Friends was one of those things that stuck with her in her childhood, so when her grandfather gifted her a red doberman, Leonora was quick to name the little guy Blooregard Q. Kazoo ( Bloo for short ).

She feels ridiculously lonely all the time, and her therapist tells her that it’s directly correlated to the reckless behavior of her youth. Leonora doesn’t necessarily think correlation equals causation, but the man might be right. 

One such bit of reckless behavior had her piercing one nipple on a dare, another had her biting into some shellfish she was allergic to ( leading to a fun ER night ), and a third had her eating a steak even though she’s vegetarian.

As far as more lasting consequences ( the piercing has since closed, so that doesn’t count ), one small piece of the cartilage on her right ear is missing and she has one scar running down her calf from these dangerous liaisons. 

Watched a single clip of Euphoria, a zoom-in of some lady’s eye makeup and it's kinda become a whole thing. Leo isn’t going all out with it or anything, but she can’t stop herself from sticking those little diamonds underneath her eyes.

As far as cliche artsy things go, she’s lugging around a sage green kanken decked in patches and pins, filled with hb pencils, an overfilled sketchbook, an empty one, and two toiletry bags because you can never be too prepared. 

Has a replica of Sam’s iCarly remote, which is basically her soundboard. She’s got it programmed with her favorite bites but switches some of the other ones out depending on the season ( and she’s got terrible comedic timing ). 

Follow-up for the iCarly remote, she’s got two specific sounds on lock: a slow clap ( because obviously ) and the sound of the world’s smallest violin from that one episode of Spongebob. The other stuff on rotation is mostly from TikTok. 

She’s got a membership to the fabric store in town and they know the girl by name; Leo loves all those fashion things but she’s not gonna burn money she doesn’t have so enter a hand-me-down, some fabric and a sewing machine

Also did some tasks for character development! ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.

[earth-1218designate]

Borderlands #CVReview

"Borderlands" brought back to the blockbuster for the tail-end of 2024's summer season.

Everything about this movie is loud and intense - if not the non-stop action sequences, then the characters themselves.

With both Eli Roth and Avi Arad behind the film, that's two directors that cut thier chops in the 2000's that cannot go wrong today, so it's not out of left field that these guys did such a great job.

Exploding stuffed rabbits, giant ringworms being driven through while exploding, a robot dropping a deuce filled with screws, and Megadeth's "Ace of Spades" set as background music while Cate Blanchett torches a cave full of barbaric goons.

This is what happens when Kevin Hart gets put in a serious role. You get a good movie. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen Hart in a good film since he starred alongside Bryan Cranston in "The Upside". Nearly a decade later, a grimace and minced dialogue fits him better than self-deprecation and a starved for attention persona.

Hart left that need for hogging the screen to his co-stars in Ariana Greenblatt who seamlessly becomes a lovable little sister as well as Jack Black who provides his voice as an annoying droid of sorts, yet still manages to come off as a valid source of comic relief as his CGI-laced character crushes flowers within his wake, being as annoying and as unlikable as possible.

A common theme the entire cast here has as Florian Monteanu could have easily been cast as Bane in Schumacher's "Batman & Robin", Jamie Lee Curtis is too old to have her tits out the way she does in this picture, Cate Blanchett is wooden, and the Star Wars jokes belong on a "Family Guy" episode - but this unlikely crew makes this crazy script work when it shouldn't.

Like "The Princess Bride", "The A-Team", "The Losers" - "Borderlands" is a film featuring a motely crew that does not belong together but somehow through movie magic they become inseperable and the movie cannot lose one of the cast members or the film will not be able to stand without it.

That translates to the audience too, as the audience members become a member of "The Borderlands" crew (whether they like it or not) and get glued in all the way to the strange final half hour where things get all "Dark Phoenix Saga" and still pulls off applause and laughs from the audience.

I never played a "Borderlands" game, but as a sci-fi head who loves steampunk aesthetics, ensemble B-list casts, and explosions and gunshote every five minutes, Roth's "Borderlands" is the best film that has came out during 2024's summer blockbuster season.

-

C.V.R. The Bard

10th/Aug. 2k24

[portfolio-of-dreams]

dirty money & tenderness. | sanzu haruchiyo x gn! afab! reader

warnings: Sanzu is an assassin for hire, reader wears a dress, depictions of blood, death/murder, mentions of blow (don’t do drugs kids), alcohol, stalking, choking, drugging, explicit smut, reader is called hun/sweetheart, masturbation (male), dub-con, bondage (handcuffs), oral (f! receiving), cunnilingus, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink (if you squint), mentions of needles, gun fight, more blood, plot twist, mcd, angst ending, Russian roulette, implied suicide.

w/c: 10.2k 

a/n: for @scandescent and @festive “dirty money” collab! this was actually fun to write- i’ve never written dc before but here ya go! READ THE TRIGGERS. also- the biggest thank you to @shinigamiplayroom & @kisakiapologist for beta reading this for me. all the kisses for you!

The job was easy- it was always easy for him. All he had to do was take out his target and he’d get paid. Sometimes they were specific with the kill, sometimes they allowed him “creative freedom.” Those were the jobs he liked best. The business of killing people for money was skewed in his favor because of his background- how he was raised, the things that happened in his childhood, and the incidents he got into in his teen years and early 20’s. It was who he was so why not take advantage of it and get paid. 

Girls, booze, and drugs all had a price. The money he made could pay for all of it. So he would indulge, because what else was this dirty money for. He made a living doing this and he could continue to. It wasn’t work that made him necessarily happy, but it allowed him things and luxuries that did. 

He was known within the Japanese yakuza ranks as the best assassin, or hired murderer. Though he didn’t care for the latter. All he cared about was getting what he wanted, and that made things easy, made them uncomplicated. If he didn’t think too much about it- all he had to do was what was assigned. Sometimes it was just taking out the target. But sometimes, he was told to get information out of them. And that was what he could have fun with. 

He sauntered into the abandoned hotel. Cobwebs littered the high ceilings and an old oil lamp flickered a dim light into the space. A round man was seated at a desk with two men on either side of him that had muscles too big to fold their arms. Sweat dripped down a short glass as the ice melted into his whiskey and the condensation formed rings on the worn out wood and soaked into the playing cards he had sprawled to the left. A few more goons had oil lamps lit around the larger back room as they tossed darts against the wall with the pictures of marks and high-strung snobs of politicians. The heel of his boots clattered against the broken tiles as he closed the distance between the man behind the desk and himself. 

He tossed a picture at him. It was creased and slightly torn in the upper left side, but even through the visible wear, the image of a person with soft features and tender eyes was perfectly visible. 

“That one is a liability. Heard too much at a private gathering. Do your job.” He spoke in a raspy voice that made Sanzu flinch; not from fear but the latent disregard it held, and the heavy tone was one Sanzu didn’t care for.

If thoughts could kill- that man would be dead already. And one day, he promised himself, he would kill him.

But thoughts weren’t enough so he continued with his work. Allowing this cretin to think Sanzu was on his side. Manipulating him into trusting him and allowing himself to get closer. Maybe he’d sever his head and hang it on the wall for all his lackeys to see. Or stab him in his cold heart, over and over again, as his dark crimson blood would seep out and stain the expensive suits he’d wear. Or he could sneak into his rooms at night, gag his mouth with something sharp so it pierced through his cheeks from the inside, tie him to bed posts and douse him in gasoline. He could light him on fire with a single match and listen to him scream as his filthy skin sizzled and snapped against the orange flames. Leaving him there to rot as everything burned around him and his skin would eventually turn to ash, and disgusting intentions. 

But again, thoughts weren’t enough. So he took the picture and tucked it away into the inside pocket of his long black trench coat and turned to leave. The sun just started to kiss the top of the horizon as he closed the door behind him. He slipped around the contours of the buildings, emanating an eerie silence into the air around him. He pulled a small locket from his inner coat pocket, digging his pinky into it and filling the nail bed with a white powder. He slowly brought it up to his right nostril, taking a deep inhale while plugging the opposite with his hand. He repeated this with the latter and sniffled a few times before rubbing his nose with his index finger to rid any detectable trace. He continued to move silently through daybreak, like an unheard whisper.

That’s when he saw you. Jogging along the opposite sidewalk, large red headphones sitting atop your head. Perfect, he thought, now he didn’t have to go looking for you. 

He sulked along the opposite buildings, watching you from a distance. You stopped at the crosswalk, shook your head and sweat beads glistented through the golden rays that were just starting to peek through the sky lines. You lifted your arm to look at your phone in your arm band- possibly to switch the song. Looking both ways along the intersection before continuing. You took large, dramatic steps onto the asphalt, carefully stepping only on the bolded white pedestrian lines, giggling to yourself. How dumb can you be. Sanzu rolled his eyes as he continued to watch you. You took a sharp turn at a bend, like you were imitating a racecar, contorting your body in a curve. 

You slowed down to a fast walk when you turned into a gated neighborhood. Sauntering on the sidewalk into the foot traffic gate, waving at neighbors. You stepped lightly on the smooth concrete towards a perfectly manicured lawn. A large single-story house, with steps leading up to two Tuscany-style columns on either side of a glass French door. He watched you from his peripherals at the mail center as you slid a key into the lock and opened the door. You took off your shoes at the entryway and slid on house slippers, humming to yourself before you closed the door. How naive could you be? This wasn’t going to be any fun if you didn’t even suspect someone watching you or following you. What could you have known that would make someone want you dead? Sanzu was determined to find out.

Days turned into two weeks that he followed you, learned your routine. You got up on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays to jog. On those Saturdays you met some friends afterwards at a farmers market and got fresh ingredients for dinners. On the latter days you left the house in the late afternoons and returned close to dusk, probably for work. He needed to get closer to you; needed to learn you more intimately. 

So he killed your postman. A cloth covered in chloroform in the late evening when he was sure no one was around. He drug him into a worn shed in the backyard of a seemingly abandoned house, more than likely just a vacation home for some stuck up bastards. A single silenced gunshot to the head. His eyes were already closed from passing out so one less thing for him to worry about. He was a killer but still had remorse for the dead. His blood seeped through the wound, dripping over his eyes like he was crying garnet tears. It slipped off his forehead and onto a rag and a pair of dirty gardening gloves.

He knew the route well so he followed it. Until he got to your house. Just in time for you to return from your morning jog. Just as he planned. 

“Hey! You're a new postman aren't you? You don’t seem familiar?” You spoke, as you caught your breath. 

He kept his hat lowered as he answered and masked his voice so you wouldn’t remember it later. When he would be able to hold you close, soft flesh under his fingertips as you squirmed in his touch. Harshly pressing against your larynx as he watched the life escape your lips and the tenderness leave those pretty eyes. 

“Yeah. Kinda new, sorry.” He spoke in the most baritone voice he could manage.

“Hm, well- welcome to the neighborhood then!” You grinned cheerfully as you walked the steps to your front door.

-----------------

These gala’s were never really your thing. It was just an excuse for the crime bosses to gather, gamble and get drunk. They would talk about territory fights, executions they’d planned, police involvement (or the buyout thereof), and any means to expand. You’ve only witnessed one successful alliance made here but once the lower syndicate served their purpose, they were annihilated. The only point of you being there was to be a “pretty face” to look at; You didn’t mind too much because of all the good information you got. You didn’t really engage in the conversations and only occasionally added your input to the games- which of course was always wrong so the man would lose out on a bunch of cash. You would play it off so innocently, saying you didn’t really understand the rules and only took ‘your best guess.’ That was one thing you’d learned to do well- lie. Though you only did when these men were involved. You grabbed a shot glass of vodka from a nearby table, feeling the liquid warm you from the inside as it slid down the back of your throat. You shook your head in disgust before turning to escape the noise to the back patio.

He slipped into the shadows, a figure shrouded in darkness, dressed in his suit and tie to blend in as much as possible for this hit. Gliding so effortlessly in the pitch black of the alcoves, behind the floor to ceiling marble pillars. He watched you slip away from the main festivities, blood red dress with a high slit up the thigh. Your black stilettos clacked against the floors as you made your way to the outside patio. Slightly tipsy, you stumbled when your heel sunk into a crack on the sidewalk. Sanzu elegantly slipped his arm around your waist, catching you mid-fall. You stayed there for a moment, looking into the icy blue eyes of this mystery man as the bustling of the crowd inside became nothing more than background noise. Seniors and gala members sat at round tables, cigars just barely hanging, stuck on their dried lips. They were playing cards, laughing at bets made and slinging their glasses in the air above their heads to order more liquor. Always on the rocks, and always a barrel-aged expensive brand.

“Need a hand there, hun?” The words snaked right off his tongue in a perfect lie. 

“Oh thank you. I guess I haven’t noticed how much I actually drank. These gala’s, or so they call them, can be pretty dangerous sometimes.” You nervously laughed as you stood yourself up in his embrace.

He walked over to the white stone balcony, leaning against the railing as he covered his mouth with a hand to light up a cigarette. Your lips curled upwards in disdain over the smell as it traveled through the calm twilight air. He watched you take curious steps towards him, almost as if entranced by him. It was what the authorities called his “pretty boy charm.” Cold blue eyes that time got frozen into, soft pink hair cascading over his shoulders, diamond shaped scars on either side of his lips that made them either fear him or feel sorry for him. An unpacked trauma that he could use to lure in the girls that felt the need to ‘fix him,’ and it was so easy. And his sudden, starling smile. Soft, moisturized lips spread so beautifully across his face; and when he smiled, his eyes seemed to smile too. A soft glow radiating off of him. What a handsome boy, he always heard them say. Though there were some he couldn’t win over; they looked at him with indifference, simply turned away, or regarded him as suspicious. Those were the messiest kills. Those eyes that looked at him so unimpressed held no tenderness, so he made them suffer for their disregard. Maybe cutting off their fingers on the knuckle to watch them bleed out from the tips of their veins, or ripping out their teeth with rusted pliers so they’d scream so loud even their throat bled. Their gums gushed out crimson pools until they passed out, then he’d show them mercy, maybe even pity them, by slicing their jugular vein on their throat so intimately, it would splatter against his face. Pretty red droplets would roll over the apple of his cheek so perfectly as he left them to bleed out. Leaving no trace of him ever being there.

But back to you. Your eyes stared at him, almost like trying to read his very mind. So he turned away, leaning his elbows over the railing as he took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it off into the yard. His identity was a mystery to you. You’d never seen him at any of the events before and his demour would have caught your eye if you did. He seemed sorrowful as he leaned against the railing, gazing off into the night sky as the stars danced in bright gleams above, only slightly shadowed by the hazy clouds and light of the moon. You slowly made your way closer to him, standing with your back against the stone, peering at him with tender eyes. Eyes he’d so longed for. His mother used to look at him with that same tenderness. Until she doused herself in a perfect sparkling cyanide. Sanzu would never forget her turquoise-hued face as she laid limp in the bathtub, and her convulsing, clutching fingers wrapped around the danger: toxic if swallowed label. The days afterward were never the same. He’d realized he was staring too intently when you cleared your throat and lowered your head.

“You’re strange. I’ve never met you before, yet I feel so drawn to you.” You spoke in soft melancholy tones.

He looked at you with one cocked eyebrow and a slight smirk adorning his lips “That’s not very polite to say to a stranger, hun.” 

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth as you uttered immense apologies, over and over again. In turn, he chuckled lightly, breathy sounds filling the air before silence overcame. You looked at him- not enough for him to take notice but enough to think. He was taller than the men you were used to being around. His soft rose-colored hair pulled back into a small bun that hung on the nape of his neck and eyes so ice blue you felt a shiver come over you when he looked at you. He was slender, with a chiseled jaw that flowed up his cheeks to the point of his dainty nose. He had an air of delicacy around him that made his looks, his beauty, feel more ethereal. He had scars and piercings but they didn’t make him unapproachable like you would have thought, because still- you were drawn to him. You wanted to get to know him. So you stayed with him on the patio.

“So, why are you here?”

“Don’t ask questions you’re not allowed to know the answer to.”

“Oh. Okay um, what’s your name then?” You asked, slightly embarrassed about his answer to your first one.

“You can call me Haru.” He finally turned his head to look at you with a blank expression.

“Haru. I like that. I’m y/n.” You smiled at him sweetly, gentle eyes crinkling at the corners and dimpled cheeks creating valleys along your face.

He didn’t want to admit it- but you looked beautiful. The slight sweep of your bangs gently ruffled by the midnight breeze, your curves accentuated in that tight red dress you wore, and the genuine smile that graced your lips. The soft skin that curved from your cheekbone down to your throat. How lovely it would look with his rough hands squeezing it. 

“You wanna get out of here?” He looked at you so genuinely how could you say no?

“Parties have never been my thing anyway.” A coy smile drafted on your face as you interlanced your hand with his arm, curling around his bicep.

You walked off into the night, the only sounds piercing the silence were the sound of your heels on the concrete and the ebb of your breaths. He brought you to a luxury hotel, saying he had a room on the 13th floor. Your ears popped slightly as you rode the elevator, ascending higher until it chimed to a stop. You stepped out onto soft carpets that lined the hallway and walked slightly behind him as he took you to his room. Room 1313. He looked back at you, signaling you to step closer as he pulled a card from his pocket, swiping along the keypad to open the door. It clicked as the locks came undone. He swung it open and stepped to the side to allow you entrance, being carefully aware of the way you stumbled in and the eerie emptiness of the surrounding space. He smirked to himself as he closed and locked the door behind him. You were already at the minibar he had set up, struggling with a bottle of tequila. He chuckled as he watched you pout and held the bottle out towards him with an extended arm. Reluctantly, he took it, popping the top easily as you clapped joyfully. 

He couldn’t help but stare as you took a large swig. Allowing the room temperature alcohol to slide effortlessly  down your throat. He watched the bob of your neck swallow and the light sweat form on your forehead. There was no stopping the twitch he felt in his trousers, his boxers feeling tighter as the seconds passed abundantly from the watch on his wrist. He could almost feel every tick and flick of the time hand. He licked his lips which seemed too dry for his liking as he swallowed hard. He stepped lightly towards you as you finally lowered the bottle, looking at him so sinfully from the corner of your drunken eyes. 

“It’s okay if you want me Haru. I wouldn’t mind.” You set the bottle back on the counter and stood up. Your hips slightly cocked to show off your curves. 

He didn’t say anything. He stood there for a moment, examining you. Oh the things he could do to you… but you needed to be dead by the end of the week or he didn’t get his money. A large black duffle bag filled to the brim with green wads of cash. Just the thought aroused him, and lucky for him here you were- offering yourself to him, without him even having to pay you. A win-win in his book.

Before you could say anything else, erotic feelings took over and the aroma of lust emanated from him, seeping from his pores as he moved quickly to your side. His hand squeezing your cheeks and crashing his lips against yours. He tasted of bourbon and coke with a small undertone of cigarettes. The feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth and teeth clashing in a desperate need to savor you was something you’d never experienced before. You could feel the scar tissue on the corners of his lips brushing against your skin as his other hand snaked around your waist. He was rough but it didn’t hurt. He melded into you, a song and dance suited only for you as he continued to ravage your mouth with his. His hand on your face moved down to your throat and squeezed. Your breaths became staggered as you slurred incoherent words. Twinkling stars engrossed by black filled your vision as you clawed at his arm, trying to squirm out of his touch. He didn’t stop kissing you as he opened his eyes to see the fear in yours. Your pupils so beautifully dilated as your sharp nails scraped at his forearm and chest. Begging him to stop, you couldn’t breathe.

“That’s the point, sweetheart.” He whispered as his lips traveled up your jaw to nibble at your earlobe.

You knew it was a bad idea to go home with a stranger, especially one you had met at the private gala of the Yakuza. But still, you couldn’t deny the heat he made you feel just by looking at you. Doubt invaded your mind as you began to lose consciousness. Everything in you told you it was only creating the feeling of breathlessness, that Haru wasn’t compressing your windpipe, your brain’s signals and active firing neurons that were desperate for air because it felt like death, were too convincing to override with knowledge. You couldn’t do anything as your body went limp, Sanzu's grinning face flashed before your vision gave out and everything went black.

You felt a cool sensation on your forehead, a wet washcloth placed on your head. Your eyes fluttered open to see Sanzu on his knees between your opened legs. You tried to move your arms but they were handcuffed to the bedposts. You tried to speak but all sounds came out in a breathy moan. 

“You said you wanted me too. So you can watch for a while before I start on you.” A coy turn in his lips made shivers run up your spine. 

Sanzu’s fingers wrapped around his cock and started to stroke. His hand was rough and unforgiving, like his intention was to bring on his own orgasm whether he wanted it or not. He kept eye contact, only now and again leaning his head to the side from the feeling of his own hand. You couldn’t turn away, his large scarred hand rubbing up and down his pretty cock. It seemed to be about 8 inches with a beautiful soft mushroomy tip. A small bead of pre-cum dewed the pink so gracefully. A thick vein intertwined with a thinner one, running and curving up to the left side of the top. You felt a pang in your chest as he indulged himself, wanting nothing more than to be the one to touch him that way, make him feel that way. 

He took his bottom lip in between his teeth as he dribbled more slick onto your thigh. And then he just stopped, staring intensely at you. He leaned over to the bedside table, pulling out a small baggie of white powder. Your eyes widened at the realization. He carefully opened it and shook it out in a line along your stomach. His head bowed down and he made eye-contact with you as he plugged a nostril and took a deep inhale, following up the line to inhale all of it. You flinched slightly when he took an exasperated exhale.

“Never done it, I presume. Well it’s your lucky day.” A sinister laugh filled the once quiet room as he moved in closer to you.

“Haru…” You spoke in a pained whisper. 

He forcefully grabbed your cheeks again, pulling at your jaw to open your mouth. He stuck his index finger into the bag, collecting some of the drug, and shoved it into your mouth. He ran it along your teeth and gums, allowing the drug to sink into your bloodstream. He grinned, saying it would help you feel better. This was all for you, after all. 

He bent down back to your stomach, licking up a wet stripe from where the line once was. You struggled against the restraints on your wrists, staining the skin darker, and chipped away at the wood of the posts. He clicked his tongue at you as he dove down into your pussy. You were sure your body was covered in bruises, mapping along your jaw, neck, chest, stomach and thighs. You craned your head to find the expensive dress you had brought for the gala torn to pieces and tossed on the floor. You whined and pleaded as he pretended not to hear your incessant protests. He pushed your legs up, making your knees touch your shoulders in an awkward position while he lapped at the juices spilling from your core.

But you were willing to bear the burden of guilt because right now, you were enjoying this a bit too much than you should’ve. The way he danced his tongue in between your folds, sucking harshly, and pulling your clit between his teeth. He lapped at your cunt like a thirsty man that has just found an oasis in a desert. His wet muscle, with unknown ferociousness, dipped in and out of your drenched hole, and slowly he replaced his lips with his thumb and rolled your sensitive nub of nerves. All that mattered to him was how hard he was going to fuck you.

“Haru, please…” You choked out a sob when he pulled away quickly and slapped a hand hard against your pussy.

His eyes, hidden slightly by his falling hair, were looking at you; looking at you coming undone because of him. It was certainly an ego boost to see you lose your mind over pleasure, especially over a stranger, especially over him. The man who would soon make you meet your demise, but you didn’t know that. He enjoyed seeing you babbling nonsense when your sharp tongue was just teasing him, insulting him of his desperation not too long ago.

He ignored your mewls and cries to stop as beautiful tears fell over the apple of your cheeks. You could feel a knot forming in your lower abdomen as you got closer and closer to your orgasm with each flick of his filthy tongue. The tight, bruising grip he had on your thighs prohibited you from closing them, your hands had lost their power, laying limply above you.

He pulled his tongue out of you, licking his lips sensually. The pad of his thumb still roughly played with your clit. He leaned forward until he hovered over your fucked out face. 

“I’ll take good care of you. Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.” And the look he gave you sent your body into fight or flight mode.

He crawled backward in small movements on his knees, taking his spot between your trembling legs, angling his dripping, angry red cock with your hole. With one fluid thrust, he bottomed out, both of you moaning in unison. His head rolled back, long pink hair falling around his shoulder blades, littered with soft freckles along the tops. He snaps into you, his hips clashing with yours in sloppy thrusts. The headboard of the bed crashed against the wall behind it. The sounds of erotic intentions filled the once desolate room.

Long, vigorous strokes.

He moves in and out of you like he's trying to send a message; pulsating waves of pleasure with every stroke of ink and slapping skin together in a series of loud punctuations. He let out a feral growl, picking up the pace even more, until his cock slipped right past your cervix. He placed a hand on your stomach, pressing down exactly where his dick was distending your skin. The overwhelming pressure mixed pain with pleasure and your pupils dilated in lust. You could feel him, in every inch of you. The veins on his cock running so smoothly against your gummy, slick coated walls. You could feel yourself clench down on him, squeezing him so tightly like it was the last time you would ever get this intimate with a man. 

He keeps going, knowing you're close, as is he. Pulling the key to your handcuffs off of the string on his neck, that was bouncing and jiggling against his toned pecs. As fast as he unlocked them, you pulled yourself into him. You pressed your mouth along his neck. Licking, nibbling, but not quite marking. Smirking against his pale skin when the swears begin to roll off his tongue.

And that’s when you feel it. Hot spurts plastering the inside of your cunt, painting them in the prettiest translucent slick. He placed his hand back around your throat, making your breath hitch in fear. But this time, it was soft. Almost delicate and tender as he pulled your lips against his. This kiss was different from before. It wasn’t as desperate or begging for attention. Though the inside of your cheeks were numb from the drug of before, the sensation that coated your lips felt real. Like an apology, or words he wanted to say but couldn’t.

You could, in small amounts, taste yourself on his tongue. He had soft dew drops of sweat trickling down from his temples as he kissed you slowly. His breathing slowed and was steady for a minute, unlike his heart that beat so roughly against his ribcage. You slid your hands up his back, ghosted fingertips drawing soft shapes up his spine. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours as the night around you drew to a close.

Rays of light were muffled by the curtains hanging in the window as the sun began to hem itself on the horizon. You knew you should get up and get cleaned but this intimate moment, the sighs that threatened to escape his now pursed lips convinced you to stay. Maybe he needed this- to be shown a moment of tenderness and affection. A silent promise to be there when he woke up. You didn’t know what he had been through in his life, but you allowed this innocent moment to continue.

He slowly dipped his head down onto your shoulder, a heavy weight resting as you realized he was asleep. You smiled to yourself in your still half-drunken state and held him close before lowering him down onto the pillow. The gentle flow of his messy hair, pieces falling out from the bun that once held it back. You brushed it away with your fingertips and laid down beside him. . Maybe tomorrow, you both would feel better and you had hopes that maybe he would stay. And maybe, you would be able to chip away at the rough edges and find the happiness he seemed to have buried deep in the catacombs of his heart.

Evening had once again bared its teeth, swallowing the sun whole as it fought with the moon that struggled along the horizon. Your light snores woke Sanzu up, and he laid there, marveling in your soft innocence. You were curled up next to him, a hand tucked under your chin that rested on his shoulder. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the new found darkness that shrouded them. The events of before flashed in the forefront of his mind- from the small conversation on the balcony to the rough sex you had earlier. Your smile was weaving its way into his heart and he couldn’t have that. It was just wrong.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, babbling incoherent words. Specks of moonlight sifted through the dark curtains, creating divots of illumination along your exposed thigh that hung out of the sheets. He looked to his right, the digital clock on the table read 9:09pm. He must've slept the day away between the drugs, the booze, and the sex. 

He stealthily slid your hand and head off of his shoulder and delved into the darkness. He took a moment to review his plan- assessing and analyzing the risks. But all of that was just part of the job, and he had grown accustomed to it. His stolen car was right outside the hotel lobby doors and all he had was a tattered duffle bag of miscellaneous items for the job. It would be easy to carry your limp body out, playing it off as you were still asleep. He could place you in the front passenger seat and dispose of your body however he pleased. It was late enough that there would be minimal foot traffic in the hotel and outside. 

He finally slipped the pillow from his side of the bed, clenching it hard in his hands. His bare feet padding effortlessly on the plush carpet underneath. This wasn’t his usual method but it seemed like the kindest one. He didn’t have to see your face as you struggled. Or your expression, devoid of emotion as life fleeted underneath his fingertips. You, however naive, showed him tenderness in the time he’s known you. So he decided this would be the way, your struggle would be feeble and brief. 

He delved into the darkness, erasing the sound of his breath as he hovered over you. He stood still for a moment, counting from 20 backwards, taking in the soft sounds of your snores. You turned in your sleep, tossing the covers off. You had put on his button up sometime during the night and it was now bunched up above your stomach. Showing off the dips and curves of your hips, and the indentation of your navel as the pale moonlight reflected off of your flesh. 

Now next to you, he gathered his composure, his legs shoulder width apart to ground himself and to provide leverage. As he finally raised the pillow, his shadow falling across your body, almost obliterating you for a moment, you slowly opened your eyes, looking directly at him. Your pupils grew wide and your face distorted in fear in a silent scream. But the longer you looked at him, eyes boring into his, you felt a strange comfort and your face suddenly softened.

“Don’t you know I'm falling for you, Haruchiyo Sanzu?” You spoke in a melancholic voice that stung him right in the chest.

Did you think that would stop him? Make everything better and how did you know his name?

You sighed softly at his lack of response and closed your eyes “Go ahead then, just do it.”

He lowered the pillow and a large exhale escaped his lips. He stood uncertain beside you as the sound of car engines began to fire and die off as they drove into the distance. He dropped the pillow and crumbled to his knees. You sat up halfway, leaning backward on your elbows as you looked at him. His hair was messy, and he had lines on his face from the crease of the fabric on the pillow. His eyes were lowered as he stared at the floor and his lips pursed in an unreadable expression.

“Were you really going to do it?” You spoke in a whisper.

And all he could utter was “yes” with a nod of his head.

Somehow, though, deep down you knew he wasn’t going to. You were terrified, only for a moment, without even seeing the pillow held above his head, just the facial expression he wore. Pale and cold, in that moment he held no love, no gratitude, like an eroded face of a coin. You knew he wouldn’t have the moment he dropped the pillow and fell disheartenedly. You were safe. If he wasn’t going to kill you in this secluded hotel room on the thirteenth floor, then when? You move lips in a half smile knowing he probably never would. But you pushed the subject because you wanted to hear him say it, hear it in his voice.

“You didn’t suffocate me because you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.”

He doesn’t make a sound or move an inch, still crouched on the floor.

“Haru?” You say a little louder, expecting an answer, though your voice was still calm. It surprised not only him but you as well. You felt like your insides were in a blender, pulsing and stirring at maximum speed as your heart practically broke the ribs it pounded against.

“No.” He says shakily as his eyes finally look up to meet yours. “I couldn’t.”

He frowns unsightly as lines gather like ripples across his forehead. You reach a hand down, cupping his face and he almost leans into it, which makes his scowl deepen. But in that moment- as if your fear had taken over and given you a rush of adrenaline, you kept talking. Getting out of bed to your knees in front of him, cupping both of his cheeks in the palms of your hands. As you meet his eyes, his expression drops like he doesn’t want to hear the words you’re about to say. But you need to say them. The fear you had melted away, but your blood is now hot- sizzling inside of you like needles gliding through your veins and occasionally poking you.

“I know who you are. But know that I’d never betray you, and I like you as you are.”

He looked at you, sternly and intently, “How do you know who I am?”

You laughed, wholeheartedly, tossing your head back as your hair flung behind you. Your hands moved to your sides, holding yourself in an attempt to control your laughs. “It seems that the people who told you to kill me, didn’t give you the whole story. Sit with me for a moment, I’ll tell you the truth.”

You stood up, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and holding a hand out for him which he reluctantly took. He was curious as to what you meant, the truth? He thought he knew what he needed to know, and that was what you looked like and when you needed to be dead. But there you were, eyes twinkling in the faint glow of the moonlight as you smiled so sweetly at him. And you started to talk. Telling him all about you and the connections you had. You were the goddaughter of the second highest ranking syndicate in the city, that’s why he was ordered to kill you. And you knew about this plan so your job was to allow him in, allow him to see you and get close to you. Your job was to persuade him to join your side of the tracks and leave the filthy rats he was working for behind. You told him about the safe house on the other side of town that was open for your use, and only yours, hoping he would agree to go with you.

“Slowly falling in love with you, however, wasn’t part of the plan. Beggars can’t be choosers, huh?” He could hear the nervousness cascading through the tones of your voice.

He started to see the most intimate parts of you when he followed you around. And you let him have you, in this plush bed of this thirteenth floor hotel room. That’s when he realized, you were the tenderness he was searching for. Although he won’t admit it to you, he’s falling for you too, and it’s enough to tell himself that for it to be true.

“We should get out of here. We’ve already been here too long.” He cleared his throat and stood, eyes finally turning away from you.

You nodded as you began to unbutton the shirt of his you were wearing. He gathered his things and shoved them into the duffel bag he brought. He made sure that you didn’t see the weapons and drugs he stashed inside as he grabbed every last one of the small liquor bottles from the in-room bar and threw them in too. He tossed the suit jacket on top and put on the button up as you handed it to him. It was warm and smelled of you- lavender and tequila. He didn’t bother with the buttons and watched as you tied the pieces of your dress around your figure, just enough to be decent. He scoffed to himself, thinking how inefficient traveling in that dress would be. He’d take you to a clothing boutique on the way to the safe house.

He looked at you as you zipped the dress up the side and wondered, if you were this important, why didn’t you carry any weapons or items for self-defense? He shook his head at the thought and picked up the bag at the handles. He slipped a small pocket pistol into his waistband at his back. If you weren’t going to protect yourself then he had to. He partially opened the door and peered out into the dimly lit hallway, once he felt no presence, he grabbed your hand and walked quickly to the back door leading to the staircase. You pulled your hand back and shook your head from side to side, eliciting a scowl from Sanzu.

“That’s too obvious. We should use the elevator like normal people.” To which he rolled his eyes and allowed you to lead.

You happily gave his hand a light squeeze and walked beside him to the elevator. You pushed the button to call for it and almost immediately it dinged to your floor. You scrunched your face in suspicion and quickly pulled Sanzu to the side. You knew that during the night, unless in use, all elevators are called to the lobby or ground floor. It didn’t make sense for one to already be at your floor. Sanzu pulled his gun, holding it upright in his right hand while his left hand held the bottom of the grip for steadiness.

A man and older woman stepped out, she was holding onto his arm for balance as they stepped out of the elevator. Sanzu quickly put his gun away to not cause a scene. You tried to silently step around him to get into the elevator but bumped a table and made a lamp fall. It broke as the ceramic hit the floor, crashing down in a rupture of sounds. The two of them turned to meet your nervous gaze and offered you a half-assed smile before turning back around. Before you could move another inch, they flipped back around toward you, pulling out guns and immediately firing. Bullets ricocheted around you, plunging into the metal trash can that was in between the two elevators, sticking into the walls and denting the doors. You ducked as many times as you could and Sanzu pulled his own gun out, firing back at them. He pushed you into the doors that were now closing, hoping you’d get down to safety. Two bullets fired, gliding through the air before they sunk into skin. Blood gushed out and brain matter splattered the wall to the left, slowly slipping down like droplets of dew on blades of grass. The woman fell, her eyes wide open, pupils blown, and seemed to pierce right through him. 

Three shots fired back from the man and grazed Sanzu’s arm. His steady hold on the pistol wavered. He quickly took aim as he felt his blood rushing to the open wound. He took a steady breath, closing his eyes at the inhale, and opened them unhurriedly at the exhale, as if time had stopped momentarily for him. He saw the fourth bullet coming straight towards him, as if in slow-motion, he stepped to the right, tilting his head as it collided with the wall creating a divet of broken drywall and a hole for police to track later. He fired one shot back and watched as it ripped through the man’s chest. The silver bullet tore through the suit jacket he wore and cracked the bone of the fourth rib as it swiftly penetrated his chest cavity to his heart and lodged itself in his back, not leaving an exit wound.

The man tumbled backward and fell, gripping at the wound with a large hand. “He’s coming for you, you filthy rat.” Sanzu rolled his eyes and fired another shot to his throat to shut him up. Blood profusely gushed out, staining his skin crimson.

That’s when the elevator dinged again, and the doors opened. Sanzu quickly prepared to shoot, adrenaline now masking the pain he felt as his blood dripped from his elbow. There was a loud banging, like fists hitting against the inside. And when the doors finally opened about ¾ of the way, you fell out. You looked up to see him give you an exhausted look. You tilted your head innocently and quickly got to your feet. That’s when you noticed the wound on his arm.

“Haru! You’re hurt.”

“Don’t worry about it, it's just a scratch. Certainly not worth fussing over. But we have to go, now.”

As if second nature, your eyes went to the scars on his mouth. Before you could say another word he quickly ushered you into the elevator and pressed the ‘doors close’ button multiple times. As it started to descend, you ripped the bottom fabric of your dress. You moved to his side to wrap it around his arm and tie it tightly. 

“You have to stop the bleeding.” You said simply before turning to face the doors again.

He looked down at his arm, noticing the intricate bow you tied in such a short amount of time. He didn’t look at you but thanked you in his mind and modestly nodded his head once. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Leaving behind this life he had, to live out his days protecting you, loving you.

The doors opened and Sanzu grabbed you. Quickly pulling you behind him as he raced to the car. A sleek black luxury car, you were unfamiliar with the logo so you didn’t know the make but it had red and black leather seats. You barely stepped in before Sanzu was already revving the engine. You were able to sit down before he started to back out of the parking space, closing the door as he turned the wheel. He sped down the bends and curves of the roads, only taking back roads until he couldn’t anymore. He veered off at an exit with no sign or distinguishable landmarks. He stopped in the town after taking a turn down an unmarked dirt road, parallel parking the car next to a white laddered fence. He unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at you. 

“Coming?”

You nodded, interested in where he was taking you. He walked slightly in front of you, and opened the doors to a small clothing store. The bell above the door chimed at your arrival and a sales person, a younger girl, presumably in her late teens waved hello. You looked around at the tables and racks of clothing, everything was sorted by color and perfectly balanced. You looked over at Haru who was already pulling a black button up and trousers from the side labeled ‘Mens.’ You smiled to yourself and ran your hand along the racks of dresses along the back wall. You were supposed to find something more practical to move in, but they were so beautifully crafted. Some had intricate lace designs along the shoulders or sheen sleeves that parted at the ends like angel wings. You sighed when you turned to look at the pants, bumping into Haru, who now stood in front of you. 

“Just get one. This trip is on me, anyway.” He shrugged absentmindedly.

“Really?! You mean it? Haru, thank you.” You threw your arms around him, holding him close for a moment as he felt your heartbeat against him. You softly kissed his cheek, and didn’t miss the slight pink of his cheeks as you pulled away with a grin.

You picked a few styles and colors out as well as some pants and tops to travel in before retreating to the changing room. The clerk gave a delighted smile before turning to look out the window. You called to him and once you heard his footsteps padding closer you opened the door to the stall. A huge smile adorning your features as you twirled in a summer dress. It was pale blue with a lowered neckline and straps that tied at the tops of your shoulders. He felt his heart stop and then jump to rhythm, you were beautiful. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the sight of you. 

He licked his lips and walked closer to you. Holding your face so gently in his calloused fingers, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. And he kissed you. Wet lips melding against yours. Soft and passionate, but delicate too. You trailed your hands up his figure, fingertips dancing up his spine before falling back down to find purchase in the small of his back. All the thoughts of a once black and white world, thoughts that sewed themselves into shades of gray but the feelings this kiss elicited, such tenderness in his touch. You finally saw the world in technicolor like it was never before. 

He pulled away and looked at you. “You should get changed. We need to go.” And he turned on his heels away from you.

You stood there, flabbergasted. Your hand reached up, your middle finger moving along your bottom lip to make sure what you felt was real. He was a puzzle to you, kissing you like that and then turning away like nothing happened. You shook yourself out of your trance and turned back to the stall to change into the practical outfit you chose. You held your tattered dress from the gala over your shoulder and the new dress in your hands. Sanzu ripped off the tags to his clothes and was already folding up the sleeves on his forearms at the counter. The clerk handed you a pair of scissors to cut yours off. He pulled a wadded bundle of cash, held together by a rubber band, from the pocket of his other pants. He tossed the cash on the counter and turned to the exit, waving at the young lady from over his shoulder, “Keep the change.”

You gave her a sad smile, apologizing for his behavior before rushing after him. The bell above the door chimed at your departure. You started back towards the car, looking at the surrounding shops. You squealed in response to noticing one with an enticing window. Sanzu immediately turned, hand flew to the gun on his back, ready to draw in an instant. Then he noticed your happy face, pointing to a bakery across the way. He rolled his eyes in response.

“We don’t have time for that.” He groaned as he turned back around.

“Please Haruchiyo! I’ll be quiet the rest of the trip. Promise!” He shook his head and made his way to your side.

You crossed the dirt road, skipping towards the bakery. As soon as you opened the door, sweet smells filled your nose. The melting down of semi-sweet chocolate in heavy cream for a ganache, raspberries being caramelized for a jam, and best of all, the sound of the stand mixer churning as it made fresh whipped cream. You took a deep inhale, admiring all the scents and sounds before walking over to the showcase of treats.

A man with a long beard, dark brown with flecks of grays towards the outer edges, stood behind the counter and a deep, vibrating chuckle sounded from him as you leaned over the glass. You marveled at the dollops of icing that were gracefully placed atop cupcakes of every flavor- some with sprinkles, some with crumbled cookie bits. You looked back at Haru who just told you to get whatever you wanted. You huffed at him in response and missed the way the man turned to his slender co-worker with a slight lift of his chin. And you missed how he slid into the shadows of the back as you happily pointed at the fruit tarts and chocolate layered cake. 

You picked some chocolate covered strawberries and a cookies and creme cupcake that was topped with a black and white cookie. The man behind the counter wrapped them up for you and Sanzu handed him the money for it. You both turned to leave the shop, and again, you missed the side eye Sanzu kept on the men behind the counter. Once the door closed behind you, he pulled you close to his side placing his hand in the small of your back as you smiled up at him. 

Crack. Pop. Pop.

Three shots fired. They broke the big glass window and it shattered instantly at the first vibration of the first bullet. Sanzu immediately pushed you to the side, firing an abundance of shots back. How did those bastards find them? He knew killing you was top priority now since he didn’t return to the hideout to say the job was done. He fired shots off aimlessly as he thought hard about how they knew your whereabouts. That’s when it hit him, the black duffle bag on the floor of the passenger side of the car. It must have a tracker in it. Dammit. He thought to himself as he swiftly reloaded a magazine of bullets. 

“Y/n! Get to the car and toss that black bag into the lake on the side of the fence!” He shouted at you over the sound of the gun.

You clutched your side, getting to your feet and stumbling towards the car. You managed to open the door and grab the bag he talked about. You winced slightly in pain, pulling your hand from where it held your waist. It was painted in the red of your blood. You were shot in the barrage of bullets. Luckily, Haru didn’t notice… yet. You did as he said and crawled between the ground and the bottom of the fence, leaving a small red trail in your wake as you scuttled against the grass. You made it to the edge of the lake and walked over to a cement stand that protruded off towards the middle, probably for fishing purposes knowing the town you were in. You had made it to the edge before your vision got blurry. You cursed to yourself knowing you would pass out from blood loss soon. Not here, please. I need to- Haru… 

And you collapsed into the lake, a faint splash of water echoed into the air.

A few more rounds of bullets and all the shop keepers had fallen. Sanzu sighed to himself and then turned to look for you. His eyes stared at the car as he moved closer, placing his gun back to the waistband of the pants after putting the safety back on. He noticed the open door and hoped you were seated inside; you weren’t. He felt his heart jump slightly and sweat started to bead at his temples. He walked towards the fence where he assumed you crawled through and there it was, plain as day- a smudged red handprint on the bottom laddered post. Panic started to set in as he jumped through the spaces and raced towards the lake. He noticed the concrete slab that hung like a ledge towards the middle of the lake. Faint ripples made their way to the edge of the banks and he feared the worst. Without even thinking, he dove in. 

The water was murky and almost unmanageable. Weeds grew up from the bottom and tickled at his cheeks from the force of the dive. Small minnow fish scattered as he thrashed his limbs as fast as he could to find you. A small gleam of light reflected from the metal of the necklace you wore. Your limp body floating aimlessly and a faint cloud of red danced around your hip. He didn’t have time to stop and worry about when you were wounded or how stupid he was to not have noticed. His air supply was slowly running out, getting you and getting to the surface needed to be on the forefront of his mind. He snatched your wrist and swam to the soft overlaying light on the top of the water. Immediately gasping for air once he broke the surface, he dragged your body to the outer bank. The mud and small weeds clung to your clothing and skin. He coughed, spitting out water as he brought you to the flattest part of the ground to start compressions.

1, 2, 3. Breathe. 1, 2, 3. Breathe. 

It wasn’t working. He was frantic, what was he doing wrong? How could this happen? As soon as things were starting to look up for him, as soon as he found the tenderness and love he needed it was ripped from his fingertips, leaving a nasty rash. 

“Please, y/n. I- I love you.” Hot tears finally fell from his eyes, gliding down his face in broken patterns. They wavered as his cheeks shook from the overwhelming feeling of sorrow. 

And again, he felt alone. 

He leaned down, softly placing a kiss to your forehead. Your skin was cold, but he imagined it held the same warmth it always did. The warmth he had felt when you leaned your head against his shoulder on the balcony. The warmth he felt after he kissed you in the hotel room and your foreheads rested against each other. Or the warmth he felt just earlier today when he kissed you in the boutique in your pale blue dress. That’s how he wanted to remember you. Carefree, as you loved him. He couldn’t leave you there, on the banks of the filthy lake in that filthy town. So he picked up your body and carried you back to his car.

He drove down the streets in silence. Tears continued to stream down his face, but he ignored them as he smiled at you. Your skin now dull and clothes water-logged. You didn’t smile back at him, and your chest didn’t lift as you laughed at something stupid he said. But still- he smiled. Because you loved him, and even though you didn’t say it out loud, he knew you did. In the actions you took, the careful words you said, and in your touch. 

He made a sharp turn up a rocky road. It bumped and teetered the car as he drove along the street, it eventually turned into a leveled brick road and led up to a small house. It had a bright blue door, matching shutters on the windows and a large front porch that a white bench swing swayed on in the wind. He stopped the car and came around to grab you, carrying you around to the backyard.

“This was my childhood house y/n. You would've loved it, we could've made happier memories here together.”

And that’s where he buried you. In the ground of the backyard of his mothers house. The only item that indicated where your body could be found was a stick that was wrapped in the red silk of the dress you wore the night of the gala. The same piece of ripped fabric you used to tie up his gunshot wound.

“I’ll come back for you. I have business to finish up.”

And he got back into the car, speeding down the road into the neighboring town. He pulled the e-brake, drifting at the corner turn. He was going too fast but he didn’t care. He eventually slowed as his car crept down a small alleyway. He got out in a rush and opened the back door to the all-too-familiar abandoned hotel. The round man looked at him, once he saw it was Sanzu, he extended out his arms in welcome.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d return to me.” The raspiness in his voice was detestable. 

“Jobs done. No body, it's at the bottom of a lake in an abandoned town.” Sanzu spat.

The man chuckled and tossed a black duffel bag at his feet. “The reward. Your service to us is much appreciated.”

Sanzu looked at his feet at the opened bag, wads of cash stuffed in every empty slot available. He grimaced at the sight of it. “You can keep your dirty money, I’ll be taking something more valuable now.” 

He laughed out loud as he opened fire on the men. He fired at the largely built bodyguard men first, two shots into the chest each. He shot the rounded man in the thigh so he fell to his knees in pain, which revealed the three men hurtling towards Sanzu, he shot them in the chest, neck and head before they were even able to pull their weapons on him. And then he looked back down at the head man. Crouching on the ground at his knees, clutching the wound that seeped blood into his khaki trousers. Sanzu placed his foot on his chest and spat in his face.

“You disgust me. So die.” And he shot him straight in the head, his eyes full of fear and Sanzu’s psychotic smile being the last thing he saw.

He got back into his car and raced back to the house with the blue door. He walked around back to your grave sight and sat down on the grass. The twilight wind ruffled his hair, and he swore it smelled of you. He sighed and looked down at the torn fabric wrapped around the stick. He pulled a different gun from the inside of his jacket, emptying the barrel from all of the bullets except one. He closed it and spun it before placing it to his temple as a single tear fell from his eye.

“Don’t get too lonely without me.

tagging: @hanayanetwork @planetonet @downtown-roponggi @tokyometronetwork @httphaitani @nahoyas-nymph @beware-of-the-rogue @blueparadis @aces-high @kazububs @arlertslove

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

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S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[moosoobi]

Confessions

In the night: Chapter 2

T.Jeff- Hamilton: the musical 

Y/N can’t hold all her secrets. She’s tired of hiding. The people deserve the truth. Here’s her confession: the one she should’ve told us long ago

I started to write this chapter the day after I finished chapter 1, yet before the first chapter was even published (time management queen). As I’m typing this message, I’m currently distracting myself from finals LMAO. Anyway, I wanted to finish this chapter as soon as possible to give some explanation of the events in the previous chapter, so I hope I do exactly that. I’m still manifesting that I articulate through this story smoothly, please give me feedback <3 

MC (aka Y/N’s) POV 

Modern au 

Word Count: 5.4k

A few unrealistic realities, but I’m working with what I got

This chapter will most likely answer many questions about chapter 1 

THIS CHAPTER OCCURS AT THE SAME TIME AS CHAPTER 1! all events in this chapter line up with the events of chapter 1

Disclaimers: 

TW: violence, abuse, mentions of blood, themes of injury, itty bitty angst?

photo not mine <3

If you have any questions/concerns about this story, DONT BE SHY TO ASK ME! This is my first time writing a whole series, so I apologize if the plot gets confusing. 

-Now Playing: Broken Clocks by SZA-

Where to start… 

My attention was taken from Professor Washington’s lecture the moment I felt a pair of eyes attempting to pierce a hole in the back of my head. As I look back, I realize that it’s no one other than Thomas Jefferson, the spoiled francophile, or so people like the whisper, but gossip’s not my thing.

Upon being called out by Professor Washington, I couldn’t hold in my giggle as Thomas’s head ducks down in embarrassment. I suppose he sure knows how to lighten the demeanor in the lecture hall; It was a nice excuse to take my eyes off of Washington’s low-quality power-point presentation, but I appreciate that the man is trying. 

This class feels like it’ll last forever, and I contemplate if I could just perish in my seat at this very instant, yet Thomas’s presence seems to make it worthwhile. I don’t know him that much, or maybe at all for that matter, but since he’s been seen with a Schuyler, the locals around here can’t seem to keep their mouths shut about him. 

From what I’ve heard, he’s another silver-spoon raised boy representing Virginia up here in New York. A few scholarships here and there, as well as a trip to France for a semester. I don’t see what all the fuss is about; He seems like a pretty cool person, probably has an exciting life, and isn’t throwing away his shot. It’s odd, even with parents to piggyback off of, Thomas is very similar to a certain orphan I know. 

“Class is dismissed” Is all I heard from Professor Washington’s mouth before that obnoxious but relieving bell sounds off. 

Desperate to get out of this class, I hurry to put my stationery items into my burgundy-magenta backpack. You’d think after those turbulent years of high school that college would motivate me for fancier bags, but I can’t say no to my favorite color. It’s simple, won’t bring attention to my presence, unlike every other decision I’ve made in my life. 

After I finally finished packing up, I can’t wait to take a breath of the fresh, polluted air of New York City. I quickly spotted my roommate's car within the crowd of vehicles next to the sidewalk. He’s on time, as always, to pick me up from class, and I’m grateful that he sacrifices his time for me, but it’s not like he had a choice. I toss my bag into the trunk, surely crinkling a few important papers. Upon reaching the door of his expensive car, my roommate greets me with joy to see me. 

“How was class, Cherie?” 

Lafayette, my roommate, shoots a smile at me, his white teeth are almost blinding, but he always says I’m exaggerating. 

“Boring as always, but I’m still here, sadly” I say as I hop into the front seat of Lafayette’s car. He pouts in my direction 

“Ahh, c’mon, don’t be like that.” Once he acknowledges the buckling of my seatbelt, he begins to power up the car. “C’est la vie, Y/N” I roll my eyes, my hatred for him grows just a little more every time he says that. 

“Can we get McDonald’s?” I attempt to change the subject, earning a small chuckle from him. He prepares to drive off “You know I can't say no to you and your American junk food” 

And so we begin to drive off  

Lafayette and I indeed have a bit of history together. After I got mistakenly involved with Alexander and his clique, Lafayette was the next best (or worse) person to walk into my life. He’s sweet, charming, probably all the things Americans are not; the gentleman hails from France. Yet he’s so much more than that. 

Ever since I caught his eye at that obnoxious high school party, he and I hit the ground running. Disclosing the events which took place in his-

our bedroom won’t solve the problem, but the stubble on his jaw and the way he holds the steering wheel with one hand nearing my thigh reminds me of the unresolved sexual tension between the both of us. 

I’ve only been living in his apartment for a few months, an idea he proposed when I mentioned my dreadful rent. A nice view, nice coffee maker, and nice bedsheets were more than enough to convince me, but I know there’s more to that “nice” list that I shouldn’t disclose. 

Though I know his intentions were good, I’m sure he invited me into his abode to protect me from Alex. 

Since I began to band with Alex and his gang, Alexander’s been strict about getting me home on time. It wasn’t only because I was a helpless high school student, but also to prevent me from ratting him and his group out to the authorities. 

Upon joining Alex's posse, a strict curfew has been placed on me, only to ensure I stay safe at night, or perhaps to make sure I don’t betray them. 

Moving in with Lafayette made following this time limitation easier for me, especially since he volunteers to drive me home or takes a stand for me. If the unfortunate event of my arrival past my ‘bedtime’ timer occurs, Alexander ensures I pay the price.

Speaking of arrivals, Lafayette passes me a box of hot, salty fries and a smile spreads across my face. His eyes visibly soften as my entire demeanor changes.  

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best person ever?” I spilled my thoughts while stuffing my mouth with fries. He lightly chuckles, watching me. 

“Maybe a couple of times..” He prepares to drive off again “...too many times, actually.” he shot a wink at me. 

Blood didn’t have any time to rush to my cheeks before I could slap the side of his shoulder, causing him to whine in discomfort. I sigh before returning my focus to the steaming fries in front of me. The tension grows, and so does the silence between us. Eager to break the tension, I propose an idea. 

“Let’s go home?” we turn to each other at the same time 

“Oui.” 

---

I enter Professor Washington’s lecture hall and my attention is driven to the two curly-headed Virginians. I watch in secondhand embarrassment as Thomas Jefferson and his friend playfully argue in front of the entire class, seemingly a heated debate of the greatness of Mac and Cheese. One argues on behalf of the gooey pasta, while the other simultaneously retorts with a mix of “you’re so stupid” and “God help me”. 

Feeling a rush of confidence and suaveness, my brain urges my body to intervene in their conversation. Maybe it was to make new friends, or perhaps to stop the class from staring at their dumb dispute, but I swiftly walk over to them. The next few words to come out of my mouth fell into place oh-so-perfectly. 

“Hey, can I sit here?” 

Upon sitting in between the two Virginians, they introduce themselves. The calmer, self-collected man among the two introduced himself as James Madison, while the bolder, upbeat man introduced himself as no other than Thomas Jefferson. Both of them seemed happy that I interrupted and decided to reach out to them, maybe one was a tad more excited than the other. 

And ever since then, Professor Washington can’t seem to split up our trio. From childish jokes and a few inappropriate inferences, Thomas and James make great company. The idiotic smile that spreads across Thomas’s face whenever he’s capable of making James and I break our silence during class would become more annoying than Lafayette saying “C’est la vie” whenever I make a poor life decision. 

Nevertheless, Thomas and James dangerously remind me of Alexander and his goons. The abundant amount of self-praise and cocky remarks said by both Thomas and Alexander is almost astronomical. In the case of Thomas and Alexander’s meeting, I’m sure they’d be the best of friends. But likewise, I could also envision the two attempting to tear each other's heads off, the chaotic clashing of two powerful minds. 

They always know what to say and when to say it. I’ve never met anyone as clever as Thomas and James, and they’re even worse when they’re together.  

“‘ ‘s Adams here today? Washington told me to turn in my papers t’ him.” Thomas whispers as he eases into his chair, Washington’s booming voice seems to become background noise to us 

“Is he ever?” I reply, attempting not to giggle at my own response “I haven’t seen him since Washington initially introduced him to the class.” 

“Maybe he’s jus’ sick or somethin’. Kinda reminds me of you, James'' His head of curls turns to stare down James, in which James replies by rolling his eyes 

“He can stay home, he does the same amount of work there anyways.” James cleverly retorted. 

And that seemed to be our last straw before bursting out in laughter. Thomas’s body flung forward as he laughed his head off, James ducking his head to hide his glee behind his laptop, and I quickly slap a hand over my mouth to prevent anyone around us from drawing suspicion. But apparently, Washington wasn’t having our disguises. 

“Can the three of you even tell me what I just said?” Washington turns around from the board to scan the crowd, his eagle eyes find us quickly 

The silence was all we could emit, and soon enough, He turned back to his lesson. I sigh with relief; the last thing I need is to get kicked out of a class I don’t even pay for. 

…

...

“Washington sure got a shiny ass head. D’you think he uses shampoo and conditioner?” Whispered Thomas as he leans over to me 

And just like that,  we’re faced with the same struggle all over again.

—-

Lafayette adjusted the hot pan, erupting a few sizzles. The wall clock ticked, the hour arm froze pointing to the “11” written in roman numerals. Lafayette and I decided to agree on a home-cooked meal, and although it’s too late for an average dinner, yet too early to be defined as a midnight snack, I’m sure Lafayette’s cooking will satisfy me for the night. 

“Y/NN, would you prefer salt on your omelet? Or did you decide to be healthy tonight?” He said holding a salt shaker in the air to steal my focus from the swirling red liquid in my glass. 

My head lifts to meet his eyes. I tilt my head, the wine causing me to ponder for a little longer than I should’ve. He continues to stare at me, holding in a laugh, before I force myself to nod. 

“Yeah.. a little won’t hurt” I hear him chuckle at my drunken dialect, but I know the French man isn’t about to lecture me about English “Your wish is my command.” 

I watch as he conducts the kitchen perfectly. He knows where everything is, exactly what to add into the sizzling pan, maybe even the exact second to take the meal off the flame. 

“I thought you weren’t a fan of monarchy?” the sarcasm was evident in my tone “but I appreciate the submission” I shot him a playful wink, to which he responds with a pompous smirk

A few sips of wine later, I recognize notification that has been staring back at me for hours. 

1 Message from Thomas

A text from Thomas? And I’m barely seeing this now? I silently scold myself for giving into the wine before opening the message.

“Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?”

My eyes become glued to my phone. It was certainly necessary for me to reread Thomas’s text, I was unsure if the alcohol was beginning to make me see odd things, but I assured myself I was correct.

I could feel the blush spread across my face. Maybe it’s just the wine taking control, or maybe it’s the butterflies in my stomach forming every time I reread his message. A harmless invite, perhaps evoked from Thomas due to James stroking his ego, but I know James’ wouldn’t promote such a bold, straight-forward message. Though Thomas is known for his meticulous confidence and certainty, a message this simple could be notably deceiving. 

But a little socializing won’t damage my self-respect. “Be bold, Y/N” is what I used to tell myself at the beginning of the semester, and what do I have to lose? I begin to type my reply.

“Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way”

Sent.

 My introspection was soon interrupted by the screeching plate being slid in my direction by Lafayette, the steam circulating the meal 

“Y/N, Mangeons.” My head comes up from my phone, my eyes meet his eyes momentarily. 

“Thanks, Laf.” I reply before taking a fork from him and digging into the steaming meal ahead of me. Lafayette’s cooking never disappoints. Ever. 

My body couldn’t help but pick up my phone every few minutes to respond to Thomas’s messages, Though they were just the details of the hangout-offer he previously proposed, I felt enclosed in my little bubble while texting him. Those few moments of interaction with him somehow made my day better. I’m sure even Lafayette could see my radiating energy, but I’m not sure how he took it.

We’re technically not a couple; a few hookups and moving in together don't make us an official couple, right? 

“Merci, Laffy.” I watched as he visibly cringed at my poor attempt at french. “Let’s just stick to our mother tongues, angel.” He retorted. I laughed it off, yet inside his reply left a scratch on my pride. 

--- 

Another class of absolute foolery and childish inferences, and I can’t help but laugh as Thomas, James, and I exit the lecture hall. The New-York cold hits us harshly, but being about a month into this semester, students already know what to expect. 

It was indeed embarrassing, running to Lafayette’s car to remind him of your library study session. 

“Alright, I’ll pick you up before your curfew, okay?” He asked with one hand on the wheel. His faux-leather jacket contorting around his toned arms made it difficult not to remember the moments they shared around midnight. The imagery of their candle-lit room appearing in her head as he sat at the wheel stopped her from replying for a moment. 

“Y-Yeah sounds great. You’re the best, you know that?” She thanked him for sacrificing his time to make sure she arrives home on time. 

“You remind me all the time.” He sneaks in a small wink between his sentences “I’ll see you tonight, Cherie” 

Y/N smiled before turning around to prance over to her friends. Y/N heard the faint sounds of Lafayette driving off, sighing in relief

After briefly explaining my situation to the boys, we quickly head over to the library. 

A woman in a coral-pink blazer and pants set is waiting impatiently at a table she rented out just for us. “What in the world took you guys so long?” She pressured for an answer 

“C’mon Angie, that wasn’t even ten minutes.” Thomas rolled his eyes before removing his backpack and opening a chair for Y/N. Real smooth, Thomas, I can’t lie. He looked over to me, seeing stars in my eyes as I realize I’m standing next to the oldest Schuyler.

 “You’re-” She interrupted me with a smile, sticking out her hand to shake mine

“Angelica Schuyler. And you?” I swear her name sounds familiar. I’m sure I’ve heard it around but I just can't place it. I do see her on my social media feed from time to time, and I must admit, she looks even more heavenly in person. 

“Y/N L/N.” My hand meets hers in a firm handshake. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

—-

At first, I thought nothing of it. 

Though Lafayette’s text at 7:30 (on the dot) did push me out of my zone, I did appreciate his promise to me. 

Thomas on the other hand seemed disturbed by my sudden leave, but it’s not like he’d understand. Alexander would literally kill me if I were home late.

But Thomas and I would continue to hang out. His evening texts would slowly become a weekly routine. Whether it was a scary movie or an ice cream date for just the two of us, he always found a way to spend time with me. 

“Don’t tell me that mint chocolate chip is actually your favorite flavor, darlin’.” He adjusted his position on the park bench and raised an eyebrow, his gaze focused on the green ice cream atop my ice cream cone “You might make me regret takin’ you out tonight” he chuckled and I couldn’t help but smile 

“You know you love me” I jokingly retorted, scooping part of my ice cream with my tongue, and relaxing against the bench.

It’s very rare to get to relax like this. Not only am I a fully-fledged college student, but also one of Alexander’s goons. The weekends are merely just ‘weekdays: the sequel’, but add forbidden literature and alcohol to that equation.

I look back up to Thomas, seeing his disgusted face. “Wait.. are you actually against mint chocolate chip ice cream?” I cocked an eyebrow towards him

He shrugged before chuckling “I recall telling you of my unfortunate arguments while visiting England..” 

“..so what does mint chocolate chip ice cream have to do with your political upheavals in a foreign country?” 

He smirked in an ‘all knowing’ manner. “Well, Darlin, if you did your research—“

“—You’ve got to be kidding me—“I start to wonder why I even asked 

“—you’d learn that the monstrosity in your ice cream cone, mint chocolate chip, originated in England.” He completed his statement with triumph “Ever since my disagreements in England, I swore to despise such a concoction until the day I die.” 

I looked at him like he was crazy. “I can’t believe you did your research on English creations. You’re so dramatic sometimes” I respond 

“Hey, I wouldn’t be a Jefferson if I wasn’t.” He stared back to his cone, the mesmerizing ice cream almost reflecting himself back at him. 

We shared silence for a moment. Words were unnecessary when we were together. 

“I suppose..” Jefferson started “...I might be able to tolerate mint chocolate chip ice cream, but only for you, though.” He turned towards my direction 

My eyes soon met his. “Well, I’m honored to be your exemption, Jefferson.” I smile with triumph, recognizing my effect on him. 

He swiftly takes my hand, his skin feels burning compared to mine. Our eyes remain connected as he dips his head down to kiss the back of my hand. I attempt to hide the fact that my heart stopped beating for a moment, but the breath hitching in my throat wouldn’t help me at all. 

“Let’s drop the formalities, Darlin, you can call me Thomas now.” My hand remained between his. I try my best to keep my hand still, wanting to marinate in this moment forever. 

A new feeling courses through my body. Something unfamiliar. Perhaps it’s the charm of a Southern Gentleman. Maybe the feeling of being treated right for the first time, something I’ve never experienced from anyone.

What have I ever done to deserve this chivalrous kindness? 

‘What a gentleman’ I repeat to myself in my mind. What makes him so different from the others? 

From a simple kiss, I suddenly crave more.

More than the unresolved sexual tension between Lafayette and I. 

More than I was ever granted the opportunity to. 

Maybe ‘more’ is what I deserve. 

My mind bleeds with the thought of Lafayette, but Thomas seems like he has so much more to offer. What if I do deserve to be happy? I may not have earned it, but who gets to declare my right to happiness? I was once happy with Lafayette, but the times have changed

He’s just not him. He’s just not Thomas.

---

But no matter how much I enjoyed spending time with Jefferson himself, I was always the first one to leave. I had to. 

I remember the way his smile would fall at the sound of Lafayette’s car horn. 

The way his jaw tenses whenever my phone vibrates across the table 

Whenever Lafayette came to pick me up, I also can’t help but feel a part of my soul crack within me. 

“I’ll see you this weekend?” He kisses the back of my hand once more in an attempt to savor this moment, continuing to maintain eye contact.

“I’ll try, Thomas. Not sure if I’m busy.” I sigh with fatigue. “But I’ll let you know.” 

“Alright. Get home safe, darlin’” I hear him stand from the park bench as I wander to Lafayette’s car, his eyes following my figure. 

I hop into Lafayette’s car before taking one last glance in Thomas’s direction, watching as his figure begins to walk in the opposite direction that our car was heading. 

“Ahh, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re cheating on me” his sarcastic tone wouldn’t pierce deep enough. 

I speak without thinking. “I do recall you claiming that you and I were never a couple, remember Laf?” My change in demeanor was certain to shut him up. And he did. 

He’s just not him. He’s just not Thomas. 

I remained turned away from Lafayette as we drove through the city. The memories built between Lafayette and I constantly falls like a house of cards, but I prefer to avoid the subject.

Lafayette felt otherwise, yet respected my choice. 

He was the first to speak.

“Alexander needs me for a transport this weekend.” He stated, “I’m not sure when I’ll get back, so it’s very important that you get back from whatever plans you have before your curfew.” He takes a glance over to me and briefly meets my eyes 

“Don’t test the waters, Y/N.”

Ah yes, the monthly literature transportation of Alexander’s gang. 

The Notorious Sons of Liberty. 

A popular group roaming the streets of New York. But instead ironically of selling drugs or performing homicide, they produce and sell illegal, banned literature and disperse them to the highest bidders. 

How else do you think I pay for college? 

Although gang violence isn’t really their thing, that doesn’t mean they’re not in possession of such weaponry and devices. I’ve never seen anyone take literature as seriously as they do.

They’re also known for their bold publicity stunts, which are indeed fun to watch from a nearby coffee shop. Watching Alexander, Lafayette, and some other friends, John and Herc, run from the authorities on a Sunday afternoon, accidentally laughing at the sight of John tripping over his own feet, Lafayette mouthing ‘help us out’ in my direction. Very entertaining. 

On the contrary, their security on me has become tighter and tighter. I know they worry for the gang’s reputation over my safety, but it feels nice to imagine having a battalion of book-worm gang members watching over you. 

“I know, I know. You guys can stop treating me like a kid” I attempt to contain a giggle to portray my seriousness. 

He takes a glance at me before returning his attention to the road. “You cannot say that until you have another way home other than me.” He sighed rather loudly 

“Be careful, or I might do just that, Lafayette.” 

---

I sipped on wine and ate cheese at Thomas’s place without a care in the world on a Saturday night. Of course, I had to accept Thomas’s offer, I never knew how to say no to him. 

Jefferson has sure been taking his sweet time to put a title on us. Now, I’m no philosopher when it comes to dating, but Ice cream at the park, fancy dinners, and wine and cheese sure sound romantic. 

My night was going well. All until the 7:30 alarm on my phone rang, and before I knew it, everything began to go downhill

[events of chapter 1]

And next thing I knew, the cold New York air slapped my face, following the harsh slam of the apartment door. 

As my adrenaline began to settle down, panic rushed through my body. 

Fuck. At this rate, I won’t be home until after my curfew. Although my immediate instinct was to sprint my way home, those thoughts were quickly followed by the idea of passing out within five minutes. My apartment isn’t too far, but being fueled by wine and cheese doesn’t sound like the best idea. 

“Don’t test the waters, Y/N” echoed throughout my head. 

I begin to walk down the street before whipping out my phone to contact an Uber. 

The small talk produced between my driver and I worked a bit to calm myself down, but that would all change the moment I walked through my apartment door. 

Once I turn back around from locking the door, I’m met with exactly what I didn’t want to see at this very moment. 

Lafayette stood staring at me, his lips pursed with anxiousness, recognizing my significantly late arrival. 

Hercules, another good friend I’ve met through the sons of liberty, stood beside Lafayette. His mouth hung open in shock as he also recognized my mistake. 

John, the group’s smallest yet mightiest, leaned against the wall, perhaps planning my fate right in front of me 

And none other than Alexander Hamilton himself, sipping scotch on my couch, similarly to how I was not too long ago at Thomas’s place. The glare on his face quickly reminded me that I was in big trouble. 

“Y/N, I thought I told you—“ Lafayette began but was quickly interrupted 

“You’re late.” He swirled his drink before standing up. The clock ticked, and the hour hand notably passed the 8:30 symbol. I was not getting out of this one. 

Although I feared for the following moments, I attempted to contain my emotions within myself. I kept my straight face for the time being. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. 

“I’m well aware.” That came out of my mouth  a little too harsh for my liking 

“May I remind you that being out past your curfew could severely damage our image.” 

I saw John look over to Alex from the corner of my eye. The air became thinner if that were even possible, and I refused to meet his eyes.

“And I do recall reminding you of your consequences.” He walked towards me and I felt my heart froze. “Having you out so late could raise some suspicions among our competitors, L/N.” 

I couldn’t find the right words and resort to nodding instead 

“I always fucking told you—“ he harshly slammed his drink onto the table beside him “—not to test the waters—” 

“—I-I know—“

“So why the fuck are you stumbling in here past your curfew?”

 At this very moment, I wondered if I had pulled the last straw. 

I couldn’t speak. God forbid I spat out the wrong words. Contained within my thoughts, I didn’t acknowledge Alexander closing the distance between us. 

“Ow!--” I watched as Alex shoved me to the wall, the moment playing in slow motion in my head. 

Lafayette’s throat grew dry “Hey, Alex, Calm dow-” 

He was interrupted by the sound of Alexander harshly slapping me across the face. My hands quickly went to soothe what felt like fire burning my cheek. 

“We do so much for you, Y/N.” Alex growled 

The sharp pain in my side grew, almost echoing throughout my body. I could feel my body giving up on itself. I mean, this wouldn’t be the first time Alex has acted like this. 

Occasionally, Alex would stop by Lafayette and I’s apartment just to ensure I was home before my curfew, and he wasn’t the most forgiving. 

--He owns an apartment key and has every single one of his gang member’s location tracked on his phone. Sometimes I wondered what was so special about us to have to keep all of us in check 24/7--

One time Hercules and I went shopping a little too late after sunset, part of me felt like a reckless teenager, probably because I was. I still remember Alexander’s face when I entered my own apartment, he looks identical every time. 

In an attempt to shelter me, my body curled into itself against the wall. I shrunk to the floor, feeling his shadow intensely stand above me. 

“Arghh!—“ the sound spilled out of me when I felt Alexander’s shin connect with my rib cage. 

My lungs felt punctured under the pressure.

My arms felt like they could give out any second.

Part of me had wished I’d stay at Thomas’s place tonight, even if it meant telling him the truth. 

What a predicament I’ve gotten myself into. 

I looked up, wondering if my torment was over until I was met with a —Crack— Alexander’s knee encountered my face. 

It was only a moment before I could hear the shuffling of the others’ shoes. I prayed they were coming to help me out.

Alexander lifted his glass of alcohol, previously forgotten, and hauled it towards me

Crash! 

The piercing shards of glass combining with the stinging alcohol were the last thing I needed on a Saturday night. I didn’t notice the tears falling from my eyes until now, and the way my heart felt like it was just on a rollercoaster. 

I kept my head low, watching blood drip down my face and onto the floor below me. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one to notice. 

“Alex! What the fuck?!” I heard Laurens yell

“Are you trying to kill her?!?” I recognized Lafayette’s scream

Before Alex was able to make another blow, Lauren and Lafayette were quick to hold him back, attempting to calm him down. 

Hercules swiftly knelt beside me, the guilt was obvious in his gaze. I hated the pity in each of their glances towards me. He attempted to wipe away the blood from my forehead with a paper towel. 

Alexander fought back against the two, trying his best to prove his point. There’s the Hamilton we all know, unwilling to stand down no matter the cost.

Hercules turned back to me, his words were ready to leave his mouth from the moment we reconnected eyes. 

“Y/N..” He pulled me up and shoved me out of my apartment door. “..Run.” I almost stumbled into a nearby pole, but I began running, if running in my condition was possible, back to Thomas’s place. 

—-

[events of chapter 1]

The next thing I knew, I woke up in Thomas’s bed beside him. I took a moment to soak in the feeling of his satin sheets. Part of me can’t recall the events before I passed out in front of Thomas’s apartment, or maybe my mind refuses to remember them. 

The sun hasn’t risen yet. 

I turn to my side and reach for my phone, wincing from the pressure applied to my rib cage. 

The bright light of my phone hitting my eyes felt like I was transported to another dimension. 

54 notifications: 

12 calls from Lafayette 🥐

24 texts from Lafayette 🥐

1 text from Alexander 💡

3 calls from Mariah 💋

14 texts from Mariah 💋

“oh fuck..” I sigh, wondering how things will play out. 

Out of curiosity, I open the message from Alexander. Perhaps it’s an apology? Maybe a reminder? 

Alexander 💡: I know where you are, Y/N. Don’t drag your friend into this. Because I can.

Where I am? I ask myself

My heart dropped, remembering that Alexander tracks my location 24/7. He knows where I am at this very second. 

By escaping to Thomas’s apartment, I’ve just dragged him into this mess I’ve made. If my worlds collide, it would all be because I ran to this exact apartment. 

Panic once again rushed through my body. 

I need to get out of here. I need to leave. 

I slip out from under the sheets and grab my belongings. Unprepared for what’s to come, I steal one of Thomas’s jackets from his cluttered desk chair. I’ll give it back eventually, I thought to myself. 

After I put on my shoes I take one last glance toward Thomas. 

He seems so peaceful when he’s asleep, tangled in his blanket, not to mention his name-brand Mac and cheese pajama pants. 

I’m sorry if I drag you into this, Thomas, you just wouldn’t understand.

Taglist <3: @kenmacrumbs @strayblades  @laic2299 @ohsoverykeri

[descendantofthesparrow]

Harry Hook x Reader - soulmate au! lost things

=

A soulmate. Something everyone had, whether they be on the Isle or in Auradon. You had watched your mom and dad hand things the other had lost back to each other, either be a pen or a full stack of papers.

Oh, did I forget to mention? Soulmates found whatever the other lost. So say one lost their phone? The other would find it moments later.

Sometimes appearing mid-air and dropping into your hands. Your mom had once lost her wedding ring when she was cooking, your dad decided to be all dorky and “propose” all over again.

It was one of your fondest memories of them, it always filled you with the hope that one day, maybe you and your soulmate would be that way.

Speaking of your soulmate.

A pair of headphones appeared out of the corner of your eye. You smiled and picked them up, examining them.

They were a dark red with black leather for the ear cushions, little silver and gold bits and bobs decorated the headband and outer shell of the speakers, a small cross bone skull painted on the left ear.

You knew for a while that your soulmate was and isle kid, from the state of the items he lost. Always run down or used, broken, worn down, and sometimes, things you had “lost” before that he had lost again.

Like this pair of headphones, it was a pair of headphones you had bought last month and “lost” them, and now soulmate had lost them again.

You tossed them onto your bed and continued to work, knowing you would soon forget about them and they would return to your soulmate.

=

Harry growled in frustration as he tore through his room for his headphones. “goddamnit!” he yelled, tossing up his pillows, hearing them thud on the ground behind him a moment later.

“where the hell are meh headphones!?!” Harriet rolled her eyes behind him, messing with the threads of her new shirt (mostly new, her soulmate had lost it recently)

“yeh dolt it's with yer soulmate, yeh will get it back soon jus’ wait” she muttered, sneering as Harry turned to her and stuck his tongue out.

“shut up Hettie” he jeered back, grabbing his discarded pillows and tossing them back on his bed.

Somehow throughout the years, his soulmate had lost a lot of of….comfortable things, like soft fluffy pillows, blankets, hoodies, and even a full bag of food!

Sometimes he thought his soulmate purposely lost things to give him stuff. It was one of the reasons he wasn’t starving to death or sleeping on a lump of stone for a mattress so he wouldn’t complain.

“harry” he looked at his sister, pressing his lips together and shrugging.

“what” he stressed, eyes drifting to where she was pointing.

There on his dresser was his headphones, though they weren’t there a moment ago “told ya”

Harry glared at her and snatched them off his dresser, tossing them around his neck and stomping out of his room.

=

“(y/n) I swear I can't find my new shirt! I just got it last week!” Audrey whined about her shirt, it was a non-expensive one but it was comfortable and breathable. You sighed through the phone.

“Audrey, if you can't find it, your soulmate has it, so just chill okay?”

She sighed “I know I know but that was a good shirt!”

“just buy another one?” you suggested, knowing she could easily do that.

“but that was-what the-oh” you heard something in the background and you sat up.

“new thing?”

“uh…yeah? It’s a ….bracelet?”

“whats it looks like?” you trapped your phone between your cheek and neck, continuing to work on your essay.

“silver, bunch of….piraty things on it? Is the best way to describe it I guess, and some red gems on it too”

“sounds cool” you laughed, setting your phone down and turning on speakerphone. “so hows you “vacation” going?”

“pretty good, I got my hair done”

“I saw, it looks dope” you complimented. Audrey hummed back.,

“I like it too, so anything new for you?”

“yeah, headphones, and a ring” you glanced at the red ruby ring on your desk, the teeth of the skull clamping around the jewel” “so you’re sure its an isle kid?”

“has to be, everything they lose is used, the only thing that was relatively new was stuff I lost”

“hmmm, well you know I really don’t like isle kids”

“correction, you don’t like Mal” you interrupted quickly, knowing she liked Evie to an extent and Carlos and Jay weren’t really on her radar.

“yeah yeah, but if they are an isle kid I won't be mean, if it's your soulmate it's your soulmate!”

“same for you Aud” you teased, her lost things were also very…isle like, but she constantly denied it.

“oh shut up”

You glanced at your clock and sighed “I gotta go, I have a thing to do”

“im guessing cotillion?” Audrey muttered.

“yeah, sorry Aud”

“its fine, its not your fault Ben was spelled”

“I know, but still” you murmured, saving your essay and closing your laptop “alright I really gotta go!”

“bye! Talk to you later kisses!” she made a kiss sound and hung up, leaving you to get to jane to help plan cotillion.

=

You jumped as Lonnie burst into your room, speaking quickly “bens on the isle kidnapped by pirates and I need your help to convince Jay and Carlos to let us help!”

You stayed silent as you processed her words before leaping out of bed and quickly getting dressed.

“let's go!” you grabbed your sword and ran out with Lonnie,  running around to the front.

“we’re coming with you guys” Lonnie stated, surprising  Jay and Carlos, the two boys laughed nervously.

“what? We don’t need swords at the…..waffle hut?” Carlos's smile dropped and he slowly turned his head to look at jay.

“really?”

“look its either you take us or….we’re gonna have to tell fairy godmother” jay and claros glanced at each other and sighed.

“alright, but (y/n) do you eve-“

You snorted and lifted up your arm, revealing the P tattoo you had gotten a couple of years back In honor of your uncle jack.

“There are some things I haven't told you guys” you laughed, pushing past them and heading to the limo.

=

Harry raised his brow as beasty boy kept glancing at his wrist “what are yeh lookin’ at beasty” he huffed, pointing his hook at him.

“…that bracelet looks very familiar for some reason” Ben muttered, squinting at the red and (f/c) beaded bracelet.

“so wha’ its meh soulmates” Harry rolled his eyes, turning around and strutting around the mainmast.

Bens eyes widened, that’s where he recognized it, it was (y/n)s! maybe-

“Finally!!!” ben was ripped from the mast, and pushed to the plank. “so lets get this started shall we!!” Ben looked to the group had arrived, relieved to see you among them.

No matter how pirate someone was, it was hard to beat the daughter of the king of pirates after all.

(y/n) turner.

=

You glanced around, some of these guys were hardly holding their swords correctly. You kept your sword behind your back since Mal had said to keep them hidden so Uma didn’t know anything was up.

Soon, mal passed the wand to uma, ben being handed back to her. As the pirates yelled in victory, you locked eyes with the tall red-coated boy, his bright ocean blue eyes sending a shock down your spine.

‘the hell’ you thought to your self, shaking your head, about to run back to the tunnel when uma screamed and broke the “wand”

“NO!” your eyes widened, watching as Uma drew her sword “YOU DO NOT GET TO WIN EVERY TIME!” Carlos dug out the smoke bombs and launched them at the pirates.

You sighed, drawing your sword and flipping it in your hand, cringing as mal fumbled to grip ber sword correctly.

“mal space your fingers and move your thumb to the right!”

You leaped down the deck, landing in a crouch next to mal. “you focus on ben, ill handle any that come” mal looked startled but obeyed, running up the deck to get to ben.

Uma locked eyes with you, pointing her sword at you “get her!”

You smirked, twisting around and dodging several pirates blades, heh, your baby cousin could fight better than these goons.

Uam huffed, deciding to deal with you herself. You smirked as she ran at you, easily blocking and parrying her attacks.

She was quite good, possibly taught by one of the OG pirates that lived on the isle, but still.

She couldn’t best you. You disarmed her and tripped her, wincing slightly as she hit the deck with a loud smack.

“who the hell-“ her eyes widened as she caught sight of your wrist. You smirked.

“honor among thieves young captain” you purred, embedding her cutlass beside her head. As you ran to head back to the tunnel, something appeared mid-air.

A silver hook.

…

…

…

Oddest fucking timing you got ain't cha soulmate??? You ignored it, strapping the hook to your belt loops and running, not seeing umas jaw drop as that entire event happened.

“holy shit” she muttered, jumping as Harry popped up behind her and growled.

“I lost meh hook!”

=

Later in the limo, Evie finally caught sight of the hook, her eyes widening “h-how did you get Harrys hook? You never fought with him??”

“Harry who?” you muttered confused, grabbing the hook from your waist and holding it up “wait was this Harry apart of the battle?”

“yes! He was uma first mate! The one with the red coat!” Evie stressed.

You were silent for a moment before facepalming “this popped out of the air just as we were leaving.”

“oh shit” the car sounded back, Harry Hook was your soulmate.

=

A year later, the hook still sat on your dresser, delicately placed in a display case, and polished every week.

You had been unable to forget about it, unable to send it back to harry. So you kept it, not being able to go to the isle and give it back personally.

Until one day.

You dove underwater, glaring back up at the surface as you saw Audrey disappear.

You were really glad you followed your gut and took the hook with you to Janes birthday party.

Breaching the surface you took heavy breathes, swimming to the edge and lifting yourself up onto the grotto.

“come on, we gotta warn the others!” you lifted jane out of the pool.

“you go do that, I have to get my stuff!” you took your bike back to the dorms, changing out of your wet party clothes and into your gear.

You slid your loose leather jacket up to just below your elbow, putting on your gloves and ring.

Black pants with reinforced knees, calf-length steel toe boots, and your sword, hook once more on your belt loop.

As you stepped out of the dorms, you locked eyes with the vks.

“hey” you yelled out, smirking as they all jumped. “where the hell have you all been??”

“uh, getting hades ember???” mal looked you up and down, raising her brows “why are you dressed like that?”

“because I can” you snorted, locking eyes with harry “hey, I think this is yours” unhooking the hook, tossing it to harry.

He fumbled to catch it, jaw-dropping as he realized what it was “how-when did yeh get me…..oh…OH!” his cheeks turned pink, looking away from you and into his shoulder.

“yep, how’d you lose it in the first place?” you asked, watching as Harry glared at jay. “ah, gotcha” you snorted, following the group out as they had decided to go to the castle.

=

You smiled as the bridge began to build, your parents just behind you, hands on your shoulders. “you ready (y/n)” your mom asked, brushing a piece of cake off your cheek,

“yeah, and I think you guys will like him” you snickered. Your parents looked at each other, smiles on their faces.

“and why is that?”

“hes a pirate” you laughed, watching as Harry stepped over the bridge/Auradon border and locked eyes with you, a bright smile on his lips. He started to walk over to you.

“like mother like daughter” your dad laughed, grinning widely as you ran forward into Harry's arms.

“found yeh” Harry laughed, nuzzling his cheek into your hair, holding you tightly to his chest.

“I think our daughters in good hands” your mom hummed, intertwining hands with Will and walking over to greet harry.

you turned, smirking as you saw a black haired pirate girl hang Audrey recently lost necklace in front of her, Audrey cheeks Turing dark and she buried her face in her hands.

“wait Hetties soulmate is Audrey?....whoa” harry laughed, watching as his sister kissed the princesses forehead.

“i knew it” you chuckled, taking Harry arm and dragging him to meet your parents half way. “i never told you who my parents were right?”

“no?”

“yeah my moms Elizabeth Swan and my dads Will Turner.”

“WHAT?!”

---the end---

-this isn’t my best but I just had to get this idea out of my head, inspired by tik tok POVs with this au, might do a more in depth version of this--

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[an-ambivalent]

For Our Friendship [Yandere! Prince! Bakugo Katsuki]

Warning: As this is yandere fiction, this deals behaviours that may be uncomfortable or triggering to read.  Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl.

A/N: This is like meant to be yandere from a platonic perspective but idk I think  it can be perceived as romance too so up to you how you interpret it. 

Word Count: 3K 

Friendship 

Katsuki did not live a sheltered life per se. In fact, he was privileged with freedom that many of his status were never granted. Instead of being brought up to be scornful towards those below him in the social status hierarchy, he was encouraged to mingle and interact with children in his age group from all sorts of backgrounds. This was so he would be exposed to different people and their life experiences, learn and grow from them, and become an empathetic ruler who would make decisions that would be best for all of his people and not just a certain demographic. 

Even though his mother was feared for her seldom bursts of her brashness and fiery temperament, inhabitants knew of the kind and caring woman she was underneath her exterior. For that reason, they respected and loved her. The King was just as loved for his compassionate and understanding nature. With two wonderful parents like they were, people often wondered how Katsuki ended up as the way he did. 

It was evident to everyone from his toddler days that Katsuki had something akin to a superiority complex. Granted he used to attack others with insulting jeers and emphasise his own importance above theirs, but no one ever really paused to spare it too much thought. After all, with how his parents was, certainly he would turn out to be a fine young man someday. He would not be a cruel and selfish King like Endeavour from their neighbouring Kingdom. He would be just like his parents, kind and thoughtful, there was nothing to worry about. 

If only everyone had known. 

In his group of friends and friends of friends alike, they would meet at the outpost that was just beside the castle but was never used for anything essential. In the evening, when the days were longer in summer, 5 pm meant the sun still shone heavily and burnt on people’s skin. It was easy to sweat from simply sitting idly. 5 pm was just an hour or so before the temperature transitioned from being hot and icky to the relaxing and soothing evening breeze and the sky being painted with soft pastel shades of pink, purple, and blue. 5 pm was generally when majority of the people’s responsibilities and work hours for the day started to come to an end, and children, like the freaks they were, bustled with energy and excitement to play together. 

Of course, seeing as how Katsuki was the heir to the throne and was going to lead this country one day, it made sense that he was the leader for his friends’ group too. Sometime in the future, they would come to serve him and he was going to be their authority. It only made sense that his lackies established their positions now so they knew where they would stand with him in the future. 

They were going to play KING again because it was Katsuki’s favourite game to play. It was the perfect fit for him. Being the most important and strongest person who killed all the bad guys, saved the pretty princess and remained victorious — it enthralled Katsuki. 

The blond pointed the tip of his toy sword towards the only girl who ever bothered to hang out with them. Little [Name]’s eyebrow started twitching in annoyance before Katsuki had even opened his boisterous mouth. 

“[Name]’s the princess, I’m the king, and the rest of you are the evil goons I’m gonna beat up!” Katsuki exclaimed proudly, puffing out his chest and grinning ear to ear. There were collective sounds of groans and complaints heard throughout the small crowd of children. While they understood that they should do what Katsuki wanted, playing the same game over and over again with the same roles was beginning to become boring. 

[Name] was the first one to speak out. 

“I don’t want to be a princess again. You make me sit out on the action each time. I want to be the evil goon this time! Be the breeder of darkness and cause mayhem!” she claimed excitedly, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. In response, Katsuki’s eye twitched in annoyance and he opened his mouth to respond. However, he did not get the chance to speak because following [Name]’s example, others began to speak out too. 

“Yeah! I don’t want to be the evil goon again, I’m sick of being on the losing side. I want to be the king and be the winner for once!” 

“No I will be the king! I’ll do a better job in fighting than you!” 

“No! I want to be the king!” and so on everyone started to claim. It turned into chaos as one tried to shout over the other, and tried to justify why they would be the best suited for the new role they wanted to play. For the first few moments of the chaos, Katsuki simply watched others make their claims, his eyes shifting back and forth between different people. However, after the claims turned into yelling and they began to become louder with each passing moment, what was happening finally occurred to him: his position of authority and power was being challenged. Not only that, but if someone other than him played the king, then that meant they would be the one who would end up rescuing his [Name]. She was his best friend, only he deserved the honour to protect her. 

Truthfully, no one cared about protecting [Name]; they were simply fighting to be the king because that was the cool position. But that was not how Katsuki perceived it. In his eyes, they were all challenging him because they wanted to replace his self-proclaimed position of [Name]’s best friend. 

Anger boiled in him and he gritted his teeth. He exhaled slowly and while doing so, he  scrunched his nose. This was a clear sign that conveyed he was about to unleash his fury. 

“SHUT UP DAMMIT! I’M going to be the king, no one else!” he bellowed. The loudness of it caused everyone to halt and turn towards Katsuki. By this point, majority knew that an angry Katsuki was not an ideal Katsuki to be around. Slowly but surely, fear began to appear on his ‘friends’ faces and they all started to back away. Katsuki jumped from the empty beer barrel he was standing on and onto the ground, before he glared at them. He was going to go off, however before he could, [Name] stepped up in front of him. 

Momentarily, when her eyes gazed into his, his eyes softened. But they hardened in annoyance again once she spoke. 

“Katsuki you’re being unfair,” she pointed out. Instead of giving her a verbal reply like everyone was expecting, Katsuki growled. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist in a tight grip and dragged her away from everyone else.

Katsuki made them turn into a secluded corner where they would have their privacy, before he cornered [Name] into a wall. Rather than being intimidated by him, [Name] held her stance, although she was frowning. 

“You think I’m unfair?” 

[Name] was about to answer, but Katsuki shook his head. He stepped closer to her and put both his hands beside her head. Feeling uncomfortable with having her personal space invaded, [Name] shrunk into herself. 

“Don’t do that ever again, don’t question me ever again. I’m the only one you will listen to, and who protects you. You’re my friend. No one else’s.” 

Enemies 

It was well known that Katsuki had a fiery temper, and lost his patience easily; and it was also known that when it came to [Name], he was more relectuant in losing his temper, and compared to others, he was more generous and patient with her. But even Katsuki had limits that she should not have crossed. Granted that these limits that Katsuki considered generous would be viewed as toxic and harmful behaviour by an average person’s standard. However, that was not the case for him. In his eyes, he was one of the kindest and sweetest to [Name]. That’s why it really pissed him off when she pushed him past his limits. 

Ironically, it was a beautiful sunny day for the events that had taken place. Gone were the carefree days that consisted of childhood laughter and playing until the sun went down. Now, they were older, and forced to mature through inevitable responsibilities and needing to contribute their own part to the country. In terms of lifestyle and the occupation that fed them, some were more fortunate than others. While her occupation was not the most ideal, [Name] never pondered over it too much because it helped her live a decent life and she did the best she could with it. She always reminded herself that it could always be worse. 

Being a maid at the royal castle was not the worst. Sure, she had to spend most of the hours in her day doing chores and other things she did not like, but it was tolerable. She did not need more, she got enough to support herself and everyone she worked with was nice to be around. She was okay, even if Katsuki did overstep professional boundaries was intolerable, and did not leave her alone like she wanted him to. She reassured herself that she was fine despite her distaste for his overbearing tendencies and how he always bullied others if they ever interrupted ‘[their] time together’. She continuously tried to affirm to herself that her powerlessness against him did not bother her, or the fact that he always tended to pick on one of her closest colleagues in particular. 

She could only be in denial about her issues and avoid dealing with them for so long. 

It was on that one particular sunny day when she found that Katsuki was hovering over her closest friend, Izuku. There was a crowd consisting of other maids, butlers, and common workers of the castle surrounding them. Some even refused to look Katsuki’s way, and others had their mouths hung open in horror. They were left speechless due to the unbelievable gruesome sight that they had seen. 

[Name] had rushed through the crowd  and made her way to the front. She gasped when she saw Izuku lying on the floor with many bruises and wounds covering him, and blood gushing out of him. Right away, her eyes averted to Katsuki who was looking down at Izuku with a bright grin on his face, seemingly looking proud of what he had done. 

“That should teach you to not play the hero and tell me how I should be treating [Name]. Learn your place, and stay away from her. And stop bothering her when she’s spending time with me,” Katsuki went on to proclaim. However, he was not given the chance to speak any further because [Name] had roughly pushed past him and ran towards Izuku’s beaten up body on the floor. She dropped to her knees so she could be closer to Izuku’s eye-level. Then, she started to  rip bits of her apron and began to use those bits to wrap whatever wounds of his that she could. At the sight of his barely conscious form, tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. 

An expression of fury had appeared on Katsuki’s face when [Name] pushed past him, and when he had noticed that it was her, his eyes had softened momentarily. But when he saw that her attention was focused on the dumb good-for-nothing Deku, instead of him like it was meant to, he became prepapred to unleash his wrath. 

He stomped up to her and grabbed her roughly by gripping her upper arm. 

“What the hell are you doing?! I thought I told you stay away from him!” Katsuki snapped.  

Despite the tears in her eyes, [Name] only looked at Katsuki with cold eyes that were etched with revulsion. 

“I’m staying away from you,” [Name] hissed, as she yanked her arm out of his grip. Subsequently to this, she picked up Izuku gently, in order to take him to the infirmary. 

“You disgust me. Don’t come near me or my friends ever again,” she seethed, making Katsuki freeze due to her hurtful words. As a result, he simply watched her carry Deku out of his sight with feelings of betrayal, sorrow, and anger weighing heavily in his heart. 

My sweet 

Approximately, two weeks had passed since [Name] had seen Katsuki beating up Izuku which had resulted in her cutting her ties with him off for good. Although, she had done that, seeing Katsuki was inevitable since she did work at the castle. Fortunately, because her colleagues had witnessed the entire situation with Katsuki, they were understanding of her position and went out of their way to support her. Her superior made sure to give her shifts when they knew Katsuki was preoccupied with his duties and studies. This lessened the chances of him going out of his way to corner her. [Name] was also assigned to work in parts of the castle that were far away from Katsuki as possible, and whenever someone saw him turning a corner, her colleagues made sure to hide her and help her get out of his possible line of sight. 

[Name] was grateful for everything they did for her, and she felt blessed with how thoughtful and brave her colleagues were; rather than leaving her alone out of possible fear from what Katsuki may do to them, they had reunited and chosen to support her. It strengthened their bond; however, surprisingly, their efforts weren't needed. To everyone's surprise, Katsuki had left [Name] alone like she had told him to. While that was something [Name] was thankful for, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she could not help the inkling feeling that Katsuki was simply biding his time. The Katsuki she knew would never back off so easily. Pondering on such thoughts left her feeling jumpy and on edge. 

Presently, [Name] was mopping the floors of one of the many hallways of the castle when she was approached by one of the butlers, who wore an expression of unease on his face. From the look on his face as he stopped in front of her, [Name] knew whatever he was going to say to her was not going to be good. Her stomach twisted itself in knots due to her rising nerves. 

"[Name], Prince Katsuki requires your presence,” he said, and just after those words were uttered, [Name] felt her heart drop to her stomach. 

“I, I-I’m presently preoccupied with my chores. Can I not see him sometime else?” 

The butler shook his head and gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid not [Name]. He insisted that he needed to see you right away and that if you do not see him he can’t guarantee if Izuku will continue to receive his treatment.” This caused [Name]’s shoulders to tense and instantly she threw her mop on the floor carelessly, and quickly ran towards Katsuki’s room. 

She threw his door open roughly. As she entered his bedroom and her eyes met his ruby ones, Katsuki clicked his tongue in disappointment. 

“Make sure to shut and close the door gentler than how you threw it open,” he remarked sharply, narrowing his eyes. In response, while [Name] did as she was told, she still glared at him. Then, she stomped up to Katsuki until she was right in front of him, and started to roughly poke him in the chest with each word she spoke. 

“What the hell is your problem with me?” 

Katsuki grabbed her by her upper arms before he pulled her right into him. He wrapped his arms around [Name]’s waist tightly as he nuzzled his face into her hair. She tried to pull herself out of his grip, and she was close to succeeding. However, she halted in her movements when she felt Katsuki’s warm breath lingering near her ear, and he spoke the threat that made her freeze. 

“Try to force yourself out of my grip one more time and it would be a shame if your parents were to suddenly lose their jobs,” he threatened. Even though [Name] had physically stopped, it did not mean she had given up entirely. 

“You can’t do that. I know a heartless bastard like you would do that but your parents wouldn’t let you abuse your power like that,” she retaliated. 

“I hate it that you’re right; they wouldn’t let me abuse my power. At least, not without a valid cause. But I think that you and I can both agree that it would be a shame if the essential royal jewels that recently went missing were suddenly found in your parents belongings, don’t you think?” 

[Name]’s shoulders tensed and she snapped her eyes up at Katsuki in disbelief. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

Katsuki smirked. “Wouldn’t I? Do you really want to test me?” 

[Name] gritted her teeth in anger. 

“What the hell do you want Katsuki?" [Name] asked in a murmur. 

Katsuki tsked at her tone of voice in displeasure. 

"All I wanted to do was give my own personal maid a warm welcome and congratulate you for earning that position," he began in a soft whisper, as he tucked a lock of her behind her ear. 

"What?" [Name] asked, feeling utterly baffled. 

Katsuki sighed. 

"You know [Name], when you went to Izuku instead of me and told me you weren't going to bother with me anymore, I must admit it really hurt. But, I was so hurt it made me keep my distance from you. And doing so, gave me time to reflect and think about how I could truly have you all to my myself, even if you wanted nothing to do with me. 

"So I thought, well, why don't I just make you my maid? That way, you will not only get paid more but we can spend as much time as we want together without someone else interrupting us. This way, you'll have to do whatever I tell you to do and I'll have you all to myself."

[thychesters]

WHUMPTOBER No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging ao3!

Dick comes to with a groan, which, unfortunately, is pretty standard fare for him. The strain in his back and awkward angle of his neck is a dead giveaway he’d fallen unconscious in otherwise unfavorable circumstances. He gives himself a cursory once-over: the curl of his toes in his boots followed by the subtle flex of fingers against his restraints. On his next breath he pays close attention to the expansion of his ribs and the bruises he can feel forming on his left side, likely from where he’d landed. It coincides with the ache crawling along the back of his skull and spreading behind his eye.

He presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and finds it feels like he’s bitten it. Though muffled, he can make out murmurings from the other side of the wall, but he can’t discern the words. He opens his eyes and finds they’ve left the mask on him at least.

“And who says chivalry is dead,” he says around a sigh, sitting up to roll his head back along his shoulders. Dick sniffs, taking in a rather lackluster room and the rather lackluster situation. He blows a raspberry, and the chair creaks as he tries to stretch out as best he can, despite his legs being attached to those of the chair.

The restraints only allow so much give when he tests them again, clenching his fists against the arms of the chair. He curses once under his breath, debating the merits and ramifications of dislocating his thumb in order to slip his hand free, and then whether doing so is worth it since his glove is still attached.

The door opens in a dramatic sort of fashion, and Dick would expect nothing less, so he breaks out a grin simply for the sake of getting under his skin.

“Aw, Harv, I knew you missed me.”

“Sure, kid,” Two-Face says, mouth twisted into his ever present scowl; Dick can hear him hiss through his teeth on his not-great side. Dent shifts out of the shadow, stepping toward him and into the dim light like he’s about to ask where he was on the night of the twenty-third like some good cop/bad cop routine he still hasn’t perfected. Dick never knew the Harvey Dent from the glory days of old. But then based on their last few run-ins with one another, he has little interest in playing the ‘getting to know you’ game since it usually comes with a few broken ribs. A couple of Two Face’s goons crone in the background, probably coming up with their own guesses as to what the boss’ next move is. “Maybe this time I won’t.”

“Promises, promises.”

His side still aches; it’s a little more difficult to focus on Harvey’s face(s) than it usually is, and Dick barely withholds the remark and thank God for that.

The pieces from the night before (or the same night? Calendar Man isn’t exactly here to keep him up-to-date) come together slowly: patrol with Robin while Bruce played Bruce Wayne, Airhead Extraordinaire with some socialites. There was an apprehension of a couple run-of-the-mill muggings and splitting some fries from Pauli’s on the roof of one of the cathedrals. He’d sent Robin back in early, and his beeline to the Clocktower had been cut short by—

Dent’s gang going to town on a damn ATM at the First Bank of Gotham, of all things. Dick snorts. Loudly.

“That’s the problem with progress, huh? Everything’s automated these days. So impersonal.” Dent’s face is unreadable, but when isn’t it, he thinks. “What’s wrong, they stop letting your ugly mug into the bank so you decided to pass the time by having your guys attack the computer out front? You couldn’t even be bothered to show up until after I got there. Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

“Think you’re real funny, don’t you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” Dick says, twisting his neck again with a resounding crack. Nausea rolls across the back of his tongue as his head pulses. “Aren’t you supposed to call me punk? Think you’re real funny, don’t you, punk? has more of a punch to it. That would actually hurt me and make me think about what I did. Otherwise you sound more conversational, and you and I both know we haven’t gotten to that point in our relationship yet. After all these years you never even bothered to ask what my favorite color was.”

He leans back in his chair as best he can. The shadow cast over Dent’s face masks some of the unblemished skin. Surely someone’s coming for him. They have to have put the pieces together by now.

“I’ll give you a hint.”

The scowl twists into a grin, one that Dick would have found more unsettling had they not been doing this same song and dance for years. Robin had been afraid of him once. Once.

Dick just returns it with a smirk of his own. Internally it falters because the back of his head is still throbbing. One of his finer parting gifts from the likes of Two-Face, he supposes.

Dent shifts and Dick almost sighs again at the sight of the bat he brandishes. Same song, same dance, just a different verse. The murmurings in the other room take on a different pitch, ones that sound more frenzied, like hushed, nervous whispers.

“I’m gonna take a swing with this and let you guess what’s going to break first.”

“Don’t you have to flip a coin for that? Figure out if you’re gonna swing left-handed or right-handed?” He asks. The grin quickly morphs into a frown, a grimace, and then a pained grunt that turns into a wheeze the first time the bat connects. He drags in his next breath, trying to decide what hurts more now: his head or his chest.

“Where are the quips now?” Dent grits out, air hissing through his teeth and pockmarks in his cheek again. Dick’s tongue darts out to wet his lip.

“You want a baseball joke or one of our usual ones?” he wheezes. Dent’s stance shifts, as does his grip on the bat, and Dick braces himself for impact. “Not really fair when you’re hitting someone who can’t fight back.”

His next swing connects with the side of his face, when he’s unable to duck away in time, movements still restricted. The chair moves, feet grinding against the floor, and Dick’s chin ducks into his chest as he spits into his lap. His head spins just a little faster, like it’s reaching terminal velocity. He hisses as Dent drags blunt nails against his scalp, grabbing his hair by the roots as he yanks his head back. One of the lenses in his mask is cracked, and Dick peeks at Dent through it, dragging in a breath through his teeth. It’s a little more labored than he’s comfortable with.

He swallows and the corner of his mouth quirks.

“You hear that?”

From where he crouches beside him, Dick can make out a barely there glint in the shadows over Dent’s shoulder. It’s almost imperceptible, and through the haze of pain there comes a spark of relief. There is absolute silence from the next room, and it would be unsettling were he in Dent’s shoes.

Dick laughs a little, just before Dent shoves his head away and likely taking a few hairs with him.

“Exactly,” he says, lifting his head in defiance as Dent comes to stand before him again. He smiles, even if his head aches and feels like it’s being split in half. “Guess you really shouldn’t have pissed off my sister.”