#hell in this game you can't even put weapons on your feet

[heartbreakercupcake]

Finally got Bayonetta 3 half way threw and like after this I don’t want to hear ANYONE talk shit about Bayonetta 2 EVER AGAIN after this shit ngl the game play is kind of fun but this game feels like it was made/wrote by someone who only knows like the bare minimum of Bayonetta like all they know is that shes a “gun witch” that summons demons with her hair and like dances sometimes They did not give a FUCK when they made this game basically told you to go fuck yourself if you actually cared about the lore/story in Bayonetta

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

[tobcoholic]

You make me feel like a fool

'friends to lovers' - Luke Castellan x neutral!Athena!Reader

words: 1.3k

summary: Luke has had you absolutely infatuated with him, to the point you can't concentrate cause he's all you think about even during capture the flag.

warnings: the use of 'beautiful' but meant in a neutral way, fluff :)

posted on: 28/02/24, Wednesday -> unedited !

—

'blessed with intelligence'—that's what everyone always said about you, one of Athena's greatest pride. Always as quick on your feet as you are with ideas, but one idea has been stuck in your head.

Your mind has been occupied by Luke for as long as you can remember. Things don't register as fast, things don't make much sense, and you feel like a fool. Simple tasks feel like navigating through a labyrinth blind, once earning praise as Athena's pride to struggling to puzzle sentences together when he walks past.

The other kids have noticed you staring at Luke at lunch with so much thought as if he were a puzzle to be solved. The Stoll brothers took notice and took it upon themselves to tell Luke.

He turns his head to look at you, and you look away, though you had been looking at him like a fool.

"Hello? Are you even listening to me?" Annabeth snaps her finger in front of your face, making you turn to look at her without a single clue of what she's been saying.

"Of course, I have."

"Of course, you have. What's our game plan for capture the flag then?"

You fix your posture; taking time to figure out what she could've planned. Annabeth raises a brow, some kids snicker while the others groan, "Uhuh, I can tell you've been listening."

—

"You know what you're doing?" Annabeth asked while looking at Luke before glancing at you for a moment.

"Yes ma'am."

"Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?"

"I'll see you on the other side."

Luke walks away with you, following right beside him. You two have been good friends for a while; never in aeons would you ever think that you'd fall head over heels in love with him. But Aphrodite had other plans for you. You just looked at him one day and went 'oh', every step feels like it's getting heavier and heavier. The pride and joy of Athena now reduced to a teenager fumbling over a boy.

On the other hand, Luke has been infatuated by you for a long time. Your intelligence was the first thing he noticed—the way your brows furrow when you're thinking or the way you stick your tongue out slightly when you're concentrating or how you're always 3 steps ahead. Hell, he knew how you liked your orange to be peeled. He has always found the way you think and solve things very amusing—every single small detail.

Not long after the not-so-relaxing walk, you found yourself fighting alongside Luke, adrenaline taking over everything. The rhythm of your heart could be heard by everyone, but a lingering distraction tugged at the edges of your focus—Luke's presence by your side.

Not having your head in the fight did have consequences. You were knocked to the ground and had your sword ripped from you, but you swept their leg fast enough for them to lose their balance. Making sure you have enough time to grab your sword and leave them vulnerable on the ground.

"We surrender!" the group leader shouted with her hands up, the others put down their weapons, going through with their surrender.

You were constantly shoved to the ground, hit with the blunt side of people's swords, and so on throughout the entire game until Luke managed to capture the flag. Winning the game.

Bruises were forming on your legs and arms, and the familiar taste of metallic in your mouth. You looked like an absolute wreck, Luke took one look at you and winced as a response.

"They really put you through it today, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did. Pride of Athena, who? Not me that's for fucking sure." you muttered, wiping the blood off the cut on your lip.

"Come on, let me take you to the clinic."

And so there you two were, at the clinic while the others celebrated their win. Luke rests against the door frame, patiently waiting for you to get that cut cleaned up. Once you were done, the two of you just sat right outside of the clinic. Watching how the moon reflects on the water while you look out over the lake. For once, everything felt peaceful. Everything felt like it was back to normal, no fighting monsters, no getting killed during quests. Just at home.

"So are you going to tell me how you got your ass kicked out there?" Luke tilted his head to make eye contact with you. He had never seen anything as beautiful as your eyes, and the moonlight just made them even better. Did he love you because you were attractive or did he think you were attractive because he loved you? He fell in love with you like raindrops falling from the sky, without knowing why.

"My head wasn't in the game; I was just thinking about other things. I'm fine."

"We aren't playing two truths and one lie. Why have you been so out of it?"

You've been 'so out of it' cause you felt like a fool for being head over heels in love for some Hermes kid. What would your mother think? What would everyone think? What would he think?

The thought of him looking at you differently already makes you want to tear yourself apart into tiny little pieces since you couldn't tear him apart like an idea. You've been so used to being able to tear people apart, learn about them, and use what you've learned to your advantage. But he's different, he was like the end of a ducktape that you can't find, he was like trying to put loose thread into a needle, he was like trying to puzzle a scent to a place. It felt impossible.

"You make me feel like a fool, Castellan." You pull your knees up to your chest, only the gods know what possessed you to say everything you were about to say.

"What?" Luke chuckled, raising a brow at you.

You stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in front of him, "You make me feel like a fool waiting for you to talk to me or to smile at me or to interact with me or to even look at me! Gods, just your presence alone is enough to make me fumble!" your hands were all over the place, making gestures to get your point across.

Luke stood up and gently grabbed your hands, stroking them to get them to stop shaking. The way he held your hands with so much care made your brain cry while your heart muttered, 'I'm home'.

"Keep going, I'm listening."

"I saw that smile and suddenly every single thought was about you."

Luke reached up to touch your face, his thumb caressing your oh-so-perfect face as he leaned in slightly to brush a strand of hair away from your face before placing that hand to cup your face.

"My beautiful, beautiful, y/n. You've completely fallen for me, haven't you? But you aren't the only one who feels like a fool. Everytime your name slips out of someones mouth, my knees go weak." He whispered with that smiled that you fell for plastered on his face. You couldn't help but smile and nod at his words. He pulled you into a kiss, removing one hand from your cheek to place it behind your head as an attempt to deepen the kiss and keep you close to him. There are a million ways to bleed and you'll always be his favorite way.

Luke grabbed your hand and placed it over his beating heart, "I swear on the river Styx that I will put the world at your feet. I will love you as long as I love."

He thinks about you constantly, consistently, continually, you.

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 7 - We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Some angst, language, Supernatural-y things (demons, exorcism, etc.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

[1][2][3][4][5][6]

Moments after Meg hung up the phone, your front door swung open. He looked pissed, and a little bit concerned, as his eyes moved over you. 

“You alright?” He asked gruffly as his eyes swept down your body, subsequently looking for any injuries. You nodded, unable to speak out loud from the confusion and terror coursing through you. His eyes returned to yours with a look that read as sympathetic, like he was sorry. 

Before he could move again, Meg returned her hold on you with a nod of her head. Your feet left the ground once more, and you couldn’t stop the scream that came up from your belly as you were pressed against the wall again. 

“Dammit, Meg!” Dean cursed. He took a step towards you and Meg stopped him in his tracks. 

“Uh, uh, uh,” she wagged her finger. “Not another step, Dean.”

“You wanted to talk? Well, you got me,” he held his hands out wide, and to you it looked like he was trying to show her that he had no weapons or wasn’t trying to threaten her. It made you wonder what kind of weapon could stop Meg, or a demon, rather. It also made you worried for your friend who, you guessed, was trapped in there somewhere. But really, you had no idea. 

“Yeah, well, something tells me that if I let her go, this won’t just be a friendly chat anymore,” she rounded the corner a bit as Dean shifted in the living room. Her back was now to the kitchen, which led to your laundry room and back door. Your eyes noticed movement in the shadows of the laundry room. You would’ve screamed if Meg still didn’t have her hold on you. 

“What do you want, Meg?” You knew Dean had to see the man slowly inching his way into the kitchen, but he didn’t falter. He didn’t even allow his eyes to pass over the shadow. Instead, he continued talking to Meg. 

“Word on the street is that you and your idiot brother are trying to close the gates of Hell,” she shifted her body so she was completely facing Dean. “You’ve got a lot of people looking for you, ya know.”

“Ah, come on. I shouldn’t be that hard to find,” Dean quipped back. 

At that very moment, the shadow stepped fully into the light. He was a tall man, and based on Meg’s comment, you assumed he may have been Dean’s brother, Sam. In two quick, long strides he was just a few feet behind Meg. You noticed the gallon jug of what looked like water in his arms. In one quick movement, he doused Meg with the liquid and she screamed. She writhed against the water, and fog or smoke started to lift off of her skin. 

As soon as the water had been tossed, you felt the weight fall away and gravity took over. You fell to the ground in a heap just like you had before. Dean reached you quickly, he tentatively put a hand on your shoulder and eyed the situation in front of him. The taller man in the room snapped what looked like cuffs on Meg's wrists. She sputtered as she looked down at them. 

“Devil’s trap on cuffs?” She tried to mock, but somehow you could tell she was frustrated. “Very clever, boys.” She spit out some of the water that she had ingested. You clambered to your feet and brushed your hair out of your eyes as you attempted to regain your composure. Dean moved in front of you and blocked your view. “Aren’t you tired of playing games? I sure am.” 

“You’re the one who started this,” the taller man pushed back as he held onto her arm. Even though her hands were locked in handcuffs, it seemed he was still nervous she would run off. 

“Oh, come on, Sasquatch,” she rolled her eyes. “You know you wouldn’t have listened to me if the circumstances were different.” Her eyes moved towards where you stood behind Dean. She peered her head to see around him. As soon as she made eye contact, you averted your gaze. 

“Don’t look at her,” Dean said firmly as he adjusted his stance. “You know what they say, Meg. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” 

“Yeah, well, what now, hot shot? You gonna use the demon blade on me? Take me hostage? What happens when I ditch this meat suit?” She bit back. Your eyes focused on Dean’s back and wondered what any of that meant. The memory of what Meg had referred to earlier surfaced: whatever happens to that body, happens to Jen.

“Jen’s my best friend,” there was a slight stutter to your soft voice as you tried to cope with everything that had happened. “Don’t hurt her.”

Dean’s head cocked to the side as he listened to you. You watched the muscle that lined his jaw flinch before he turned back to Meg. 

“We’re gonna send this bitch back to Hell,” Dean’s words came out strong and confident. It sent a shiver throughout your body. Before you could ask what that meant, Dean seemed to sense your question. “Don’t worry, it’s not gonna hurt your friend.” 

Meg seemed nervous, but Sam started speaking in a language you didn’t recognize. Latin, maybe? But as he spoke, Meg seemed to become very uncomfortable. She pulled against the cuffs, and then something happened that you had only ever seen in movies before—the kind of movies that gave you nightmares. You peered over Dean’s shoulder and watched as Jen’s head shook violently side to side. Her mouth opened and then thick black smoke began to funnel out of her. Instinctively, you reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s jacket. A tremble coursed through your body. 

And then just like that, your friend crumpled to the floor. Sam rushed to her with a key and undid the handcuffs. 

You pushed past Dean and dropped to your knees by her. She slowly opened her eyes. 

“Where the hell am I?” She blinked up at you and the two men standing over you and sat up quickly. "And why am I wet?"

“Jen, take it easy,” you breathed and tried to calm your shaking hands. “You passed out.” It wasn’t a total lie, and you already knew Jen would have a hard time believing any of this. You certainly did, until you saw it for yourself. "I splashed some water on you to try to get you to wake up."

“I…I don’t even remember coming inside. I pulled up to your driveway, and then something happened…” her words fell off as you could sense her trying to remember. “There was black smoke.” Her eyes widened and you panicked. 

“You must have hallucinated or something,” you quickly tried to fill in the gaps. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” she rubbed at her forehead before she took on the two men behind you. Her eyebrows went upwards as she tried to place the two of them. “Is that…?”

Before anyone could say anything else, you interjected. “Jimmy and Ben, my new neighbors. They, uh, they heard me yelling for help when you passed out,” you lied through your teeth. You had lied to her more than once tonight, and that didn’t sit well with you, but the alternative (the truth) was too complicated. “They came to help.” Dean and Sam both managed a small nod as they watched over Jen. “Here, let me walk you both out.”

“You sure?” Dean eyed you carefully as you stood and helped your friend to her feet. You led her to the couch, but her gaze stayed on Dean. 

“I’m sure,” you answered quickly. “I’ll get her some food and water. I’m sure it was just a low blood sugar thing.”

“I don’t have low blood sugar,” Jen’s voice was low but she plopped down on the couch anyway. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” your words were jumbled together. You just wanted to get Dean and Sam out. Jen had read the articles, you knew she would recognize Dean once she fully became aware of her surroundings, if she hadn’t already. The whole demon thing was hard enough for you to understand, and you had witnessed it for yourself. 

You gently placed a hand on Dean’s back and one on Sam’s as you ushered them to the door. Once you were through the doorway, you pulled the door shut behind you and closed your eyes. It felt like the first time you could take a breath since this entire ordeal started (and to be honest, since you had stumbled upon the articles about Dean in the first place). 

“Jimmy and Ben?” Dean’s voice was low as he eyed you cautiously. He didn’t know where you stood in all of this, but was dying to find out. To be honest, you didn't even know yourself; there was so much to wrap your mind around.

“I panicked,” you matched his volume. “I couldn’t tell her the truth. She just got done reading articles about how you’re both murderers and are supposed to be dead. I’m sure she’ll put it together once she sees your pictures again. I just have to figure out how to explain it to her. She’s never going to understand.” You nibbled subconsciously on your bottom lip. Once you realized you were doing it, your eyes popped up to Dean. His words from that night were all you could process: “What’d I tell you about that lip?” You released it immediately, though you could tell by the way he clenched his teeth and his jaw tightened, he had noticed. 

“Do you understand?” Dean asked gently. Whatever hold you had over him a moment ago, he had pushed it out of his brain and refocused on the situation you were currently in. 

“Not in the least,” you sighed as the weight of everything seemed to fall over you; you had to lean against the door just to hold yourself up. “But I’m realizing there are things I guess I just can’t understand. And maybe you aren’t a psychopath and maybe you were telling me the truth. Is Jen going to be alright?”

Dean offered a small smile, but his eyes still pierced through you—it was almost as if he was worried if he looked away, you might keel over. “She’ll be fine. She might have weird memories, but physically, she’ll be alright.”

You nodded, satisfied with that answer. “So what does this all mean? And that was a demon?” Your eyes danced between them and then steadied on Sam. “And you—how did you get into my house? I have so many questions.” You sounded exasperated, because that’s exactly what you were. 

Sam smiled cautiously. It seemed like these boys were worried if they weren’t careful, you might break. “It was way too easy. You really should lock your windows,” he chuckled lightly before he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m Sam, by the way. It’s nice to meet you,” he put his hand out for you to shake. You were hesitant, but you took it. After all, these guys had just saved your life. 

“We’re gonna stay close, once Jen leaves, let’s talk, alright?” Dean offered, still with a low tone. “I’m sure if Meg knows about you, others do too. Or they will soon enough. We’ll park a few houses down and keep an eye out.”

“And what about Meg? Is she truly gone?” You watched them nervously. 

“For now,” Dean answered. “She’ll find a way out of hell, she always does. If word gets out, which it will, about what we’re trying to do, she’ll claw her way out before she lets it happen. Most of them will…” his words were hard and serious. This was serious. 

“I have so many questions,” the words came out in a breath. Now that the shock was wearing off, the utter fear, anxiety and physical pain from falling twice was starting to set in. 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” it almost seemed like Dean winced after he said the word, but you ignored it. “We’ll get there, I promise. Just try to relax. You’re safe right now, and I intend to keep it that way.”

You knew he meant it by the force of his words and the look in his eyes. You nodded. 

“Okay, then,” you took a shaky breath and straightened yourself so you weren’t leaning against the door. “I’ll, um, I’ll call you?” You glanced back at Dean and he nodded. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, like there was something he wanted to do. But instead, he and Sam walked down your front steps and to the street to head back to the car. 

You took a deep breath before you went inside. 

“So, wanna know what’s weird?” Jen asked as you rinsed the dishes. You made her sit at the table and drink her water, even after she tried to insist on helping you. She hadn’t brought up anything that had happened, and you were thankful, though surprised. You had a twisting feeling in your gut that told you that was about to change. 

“Hmm?” You hummed as you put the rinsed dish in the dishwasher. 

“Your neighbor looks a lot like Dean…” she eyed you over her water glass. 

Thankfully, the dish had made it on the rack before it slipped out of your hands. You let a few seconds pass before you laughed nervously. 

“Really? I guess I didn’t see it,” you avoided eye contact even though you could feel her gaze. 

Jen stood from her seat and you eyed her carefully. There were uneasy feelings when you looked at her that you couldn’t forget. You knew it wasn’t her before—she didn’t have some crazy superpower and she couldn’t fling you against a wall. But still, it was hard to separate what happened with Meg from your friend standing beside you. 

“Oh, please,” she gave you a look that told you she knew you weren’t giving her the whole story. “The man you’ve been trying to forget for three days has an uncanny resemblance to your ‘neighbor’ and you don’t notice?” She folded her arms across her chest. 

“Jen, I can’t explain it,” you said simply with a sigh as you finally turned to face her. “I’m sorry for everything—I’m sorry you passed out, I’m sorry for dragging you into the whole Dean thing. I’m just sorry.”

Her gaze softened as you blabbed in the middle of your kitchen. “Hey, you don’t owe me any apologies, okay?” If only she knew the truth. “I’m your best friend. You don’t have to apologize for anything. And you can talk to me, alright?” You nodded once and focused your gaze on the tile by your feet. “Look, it’s been a long night. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna head out, but can we talk tomorrow? Please?” She tilted her head so you’d look at her. 

Tomorrow. At least it gave you some time to process everything. “Tomorrow sounds good,” you replied. Jen sighed and wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You sure you’re okay to drive home?” Worry bubbled through you. Even though Dean had said she would be alright, you just couldn’t be sure. Hell, you weren’t sure of anything at that moment. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said as she pulled back with a small smile. “It takes me maybe five minutes to get home. I’ll even text you when I get there.”

“Okay, deal,” you smiled back. You walked your friend to the door and promised her a phone call the next day. Your arms folded across your chest as you stood on your front porch and watched her pull away, partially to block the cool night air in Virginia, but also to protect yourself from everything that had terrified you that night. Both sent shivers up your spine. 

As soon as her tail lights turned down another street, headlights illuminated behind you. Just as promised, it looked as though Dean and Sam had parked just a few houses down the block. 

As they pulled up to the curb in front of your home, you recognized that it wasn’t the Impala. 

Both doors opened at the same time, and you tried to manage a smile as they got out of the car. “How’re you doing?” Dean asked as they climbed the steps to your porch. 

A shrug lifted and dropped your shoulders. “It’s been a weird three days, putting it lightly.”

You opened the door to welcome them inside. 

“Ha,” Dean chuckled lightly. “I can imagine.” You realized how he must have felt after not hearing from you. While you had gone through your own misery and fear of losing him because you thought he was some psychopathic killer, to then realizing he was telling the truth, he must have been so confused and worried. 

“Hey, uh, could I use your restroom?” Sam asked as he cleared his throat. You nodded and showed him the way. It was pretty obvious he was trying to give you and Dean a moment. 

Dean hesitated, but came back to stand in front of you after Sam went down the hall. 

“I owe you an apology,” you said softly as you tried to calm your heart as it raced in your chest. 

“No you don’t,” he shook his head adamantly and shoved his hands in his pockets to busy them so he wouldn’t reach out and touch you. “You had every right to run for the hills. In fact, I owe you an apology.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “There are a lot of things I should’ve done…and probably some things I shouldn’t have, too.” His tone had dropped. “You’re wrapped up in this because of me. And I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured as you studied his eyes. They were the same as you remembered them from just a few days before. “I was interested in you from the jump. And I called you, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” he chuckled softly as his face softened. “But I probably should’ve said no.”

You shook your head immediately without having to take a second thought. 

“No, please don’t say that,” you reached for his hands and pulled them from his pockets. The feeling of his skin on yours once more created a flutter in your chest that almost felt like pieces were being put back together. “Even knowing all that I know now, as crazy as it’s going to sound…I wouldn’t go back and change anything.”

Dean brought your hands up to his lips and left a soft kiss there. “I hear you. And I wouldn’t want to change it, either. But this life isn’t a life you want anything to do with. I should’ve been smarter about that. I usually am, but you were…”

“Different,” you answered for him with a small nod. “I know what you mean.” 

Sam had reemerged from the bathroom and slowly made his way into the living room. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. 

“So, what does this mean now? You’re sure Jen isn’t in any kind of danger?” Dean had let your hands go and you shifted your gaze to look at both of them. 

“I don’t think so,” Dean answered. “Meg wanted to get to us, and she knew she could do that through you. We’ll have a friend of ours keep an eye on Jen, just to be safe.” You felt okay with that answer, for now at least. “But you, on the other hand…” his words fell again as he looked at you. “I don’t wanna scare you when I say this—“

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “With all I’ve witnessed and learned today, I don’t think I could be more scared than I already am. Lay it on me.” 

Dean offered up a small smile. “If Meg knows about you, then others will, too.” You nodded as you tried to process. “How do you feel about coming to Kansas for a little while?”

A/N: Happy Thursday, friends! There's chapter 6 - how are we feeling? She finally is starting to make sense of everything (the best she can). And maybe going to Kansas with the Winchesters?

Thank you for reading, like, reblogging or commenting (or all of the above!). Feedback always brings me a lot of joy :)

Chapter 8 will be posted on (or maybe before, TBD) Thursday, 4/18!

Chapter 8 Preview:

“Hey, I know this is a lot to take in,” Dean started slowly. Both of the boys kept treating you like you were made of glass, which was a little bit annoying but also made sense. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’m okay,” you said out loud for him, but also for yourself. “I’m not really a big fan of the unknown…I’m a planner.” You mumbled as you looked around at your things.

“Not big on taking chances, huh?” Dean chuckled softly as his eyes watched you move. Again, it was like he was waiting for it all to set in and for you to crumble.

“Nope,” you sighed as you finally looked back at him. “Rule follower, remember?” You managed a half-smile as you remembered the first time you met in Atlanta.

“Oh, I remember,” Dean smirked back. He took a few steps towards you and you both sat on the edge of your bed. “Just keep in mind–this doesn’t have to be forever.” Your head had dipped a bit, so he moved his to find your gaze. 

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[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part thirteen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve

-

Sephiroth has a really good body! So fast and strong! The force he can put into the simplest attacks is amazing!

It really is like he's suddenly possessing Liu Qingge - with decades of training and bodybuilding and power at his fingertips. He's almost jealous, and a little bit offended! If this is anything like what Liu-shidi is working with, ah - where was he coming from, asking his scholar shixiong for spars, huh?! As if Shen Qingqiu could match this!

Shen Qingqiu was a spiritual cultivator - his sword seals were stronger than his actual combat abilities, so that's what he mostly stuck to, letting his very capable sword do the talking. Especially with Without a Cure sapping his strength. Liu Qingge had tried to teach him, and he'd really tried to learn too, he'd thought he'd need all the advantages he could get when Luo Binghe came back, but, ah, he just didn't have it in him to train like that. It was so much work!

It's so effortless now, pulling off moves he'd learned as Shen Qingqiu but never quite had the physical strength to pull off properly. He feels weightless and without barriers, like there's nothing, no gravity, no physical limitations, nothing that could get in his way!

Not even Genesis.

"What the hell was that?!" the man demands, sprawled on the floor, staring up at him in deep offence.

Sephiroth is a villain, so smiling smugly is alright. "Your form is off," and swings his ridiculous beautiful Japanese blade down, until it almost touches the floor. "You need to work on your footing."

The sword is his biggest hindrance, honestly - followed closely by the too tight coat. It's not just the length of the blade, but the design. He's used to Shen Qingqiu's Xiu Ya, which is a two-edged straight jian sword, never mind the fact that it's a spiritual weapon. Masamune can't even be compared to a dao sword - which Shen Qingqiu had occasionally helped his disciples with, but which he'd never been particularly comfortable with. 

The blade is much thinner and more flexible than he's used to, and he really has to wonder how it hasn't been broken or at least chipped against Genesis' straighter, heftier sword. Those were some heavy blows!

Actually… 

Genesis jumps to his feet and swings his sword. "Again," he demands.

"Hang on a moment," Sephiroth says, considering his sword at length. Running a bare hand along the blade finds no dents, and the edge is as sharp as it was in the beginning. No chips. That's… impossible, right? It's just a katana blade. It's not a spiritual sword, it can't even heal itself.

Although it does have three marbles of Materia in its hilt. And there is something… it's not Qi, but there's something. The sword isn't exactly lifeless.

Lifting Masamune up, he sends a small fraction of Sephiroth massive, sluggish spiritual power into the blade, and - ah. It lights up with something similar to a sword glare. How interesting! That makes sense, since weapons like these are how people channel magic here. And he does recall a lot of sword beam types of attacks from the games!

"Do not throw that my way," Genesis says, holding his sword in front of him in a guard. "I will answer in kind, Sephiroth, I swear to Goddess."

"I wasn't about to," he answers with a snort and draws his energy back. Now that he's looking for it, he can still sense it.

So, Masamune is subtly drawing on his energy. It's not exactly how a spiritual weapon would do it, but it's… similar. Passive and constant. Hm. Maybe something to do with the metal itself? Fascinating - are all Materia-imbued weapons like this?

"Is Masamune alright?" Angeal asks worriedly, coming forward. "Did something happen?"

"It's fine," Sephiroth answers and lowers the sword. He nods to Genesis. "And yours?"

"The Rapier is just fine," Genesis says, swinging it as though shaking dirt if it. "No need to worry."

The… Rapier? "That is not a rapier."

"No, it's a broadsword, and I thought it was funny," Genesis sniffs and holds it straight up. "Rapier sounds more elegant. Mine is a weapon of finesse."

That's… surprisingly lighthearted for someone so dramatic. Well, he'd seen worse names for swords. And people.

"Now, again?" Genesis asks, swinging the sword challengingly down. "Or do you want to jump in, Angeal?"

"I think I'll watch a little bit more," Angeal says, stepping back again. "Remember, no magic."

"Yes, yes," Genesis says and holds his… Rapier in a guard. "Ready when you are, Sephiroth."

Taking in the man's posture with Shen Qingqiu's expert eye, he hums. "If you say so, Genesis," he says and shifts to a stance.

Now that he has some sense of his own energy running through Masamune, he has a much better grasp of the length and the curve. With it he dares to go a little faster, not having to worry about overreacting and hurting his opponent. He can also almost sense Genesis' sword now, and predict its movements.

It makes for a very short spar indeed.

"What the hell -" Genesis grumbles, again on the floor, and glares up at him. "Are you toying with me right now?!"

Heh. Kind of! "Your footing," he answers in his best villainous drawl, "Is weak."

"My footing is fine!"

"Then why are you on the floor?" 

Genesis mutters a curse and stands up, gripping Rapier's handle tightly. "Smug son of a bitch - I am going to end your legend here and now!"

The man attacks without warning, and it's such bad etiquette that Shen Qingqiu comes fully to the forefront. He ducks past Genesis' attack and whacks him on the butt with the flat of his sword in admonishment - and then, for a good measure, kicks his feet from under him.

"Footing," he says lazily while Genesis sputters at him in outraged offence - once more on the floor. "You let your sword's weight lead you too much. I know the blade is heavy and willful and wants to get its way - but you are the one guiding the blade, it's not supposed to be leading you."

Genesis gapes at him. "What the hell are you talking about?!" 

They're not spiritual swords, not exactly, so… "May I?" he motions at Rapier.

Genesis glares at him warily and stands up. He shares a confused, incredulous look with Angeal and then flips Rapier over, holding it out handle first.

Shifting Masamune to his off hand and holding it out of the way behind his back, Sephiroth takes Rapier, tests the weight, and then assumes the posture Genesis led with.

"You might have the strength to swing this thing around however you will, but the laws of leverage are still in effect," he explains. "This is a very heavy sword, and unless you weigh considerably more than you look, it will mess with your balance if you don't counteract it. When you swing," he demonstrates, "right now you are stepping up to follow the swing and so you're taking out your base of balance. And so you trip."

Genesis just stares at him, face completely blank. 

"Now, from the beginning, properly this time," Shen Qingqiu continues and demonstrates. "Plant your feet. Bend your knees. The movement begins from your hips, not your hand. From your hip, up the torso, to your arm. Your knees follow and support the movement. Feet stay on the ground. And… swing."

He swings the Rapier, a sweeping attack fit to take someone's head off. "Now, if you have to adjust to an opponent's block or attack, you can, because your wrist is still neutral - see? Like this I can easily adjust the angle of my swing without losing my footing, or the power of the attack."

Angeal slowly joins them while Genesis is still just staring blankly. They're both staring.

Feeling suddenly like he'd overstepped, Sephiroth hands the Rapier back and clears his throat. "So, as I said, footing. It's the same with your thrust," he mutters, looking away. "Don't just throw your whole body behind it like an idiot."

Genesis accepts the broadsword back dully and looks at Angeal. There's a moment of tense silence, and Sephiroth kinda wants to sink into the floor.

Awkward.

-

Shizun mode, activated.

(also I know fuck all about swordsmanship, so don't look too deeply into that)

[meantaylorsversion]

but also

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the most despicable person on this whole earth…” “Sweetheart, I know I’m your favorite. No need to pretend.”

but with jason todd.

i have a problem if you couldnt tell

LATE NIGHT MEETINGS

pairing; Jason Todd x Reader

warning; canon compliant violence

notes; tee hee

Jason let out a grunt as you landed a blow on him from behind. He grabbed the weapon of out of your hand before you could hit him again with it. He pins you against the wall that was a few feet away from you both, effectively knocking the wind out of you.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the most despicable person in the world?" He grunts, eyes glaring but the helmet didn't show it. You smirked at him, putting a finger on his chest. "Mm, sweetheart we both know I'm your favorite. It's cute you pretend that I'm not," You respond, trying to slip out of his grasp. He grabbed you before you could escape, moving his head down towards yours in an attempt to intimidate you.

"Don't even think about fucking moving Stray," He hisses, turning his head to the side, looking around. You were so hard to find, even when he had you right in the palm of his hands. "Hm whatcha gonna do about it Redhood?" You taunt, eyes flickering down to where his lips would be.

He sighed, tightening the grip on your arm. "You're so fucking annoying, listen for one moment—I'm trying to help you!" He exclaims, and your eyes widened, finally taking him seriously. "I know you're gonna go rob that new socialite family, but don't do it there's something fishy with them," Jason pleads, staring you down with a intensity that you couldn't place your finger on.

"My, my I can't believe my ears right now, does the infamous Red Hood, care? about lil ol me?" You tease, rolling your eyes at him. Jason ran a hand over his mask before taking it off. In all of the times you two had been playing this car and mouse game, you had never seen his face until now. He was handsome, his blue eyes and the white streak of his hair intrigued you, and for once you could see the emotions on his face.

"Fuck! Of course I do!" He shouts at you, one hand running through his hair while the other holds you. Your facade breaks for a moment, a look of surprise appearing on your face. "Wow hell must be frozen over then," You scoff, he sighs again before he uses both hands to hold your face to look you in the eyes. "There's something wrong with them, stay away,"

He holds your face for a second longer before he leans in and kisses you. It's hard and passionate, his lips touching yours like you were the last person on earth with him. The kiss is dizzying, exhilarating, nothing you've ever experienced. You didn't understand why he kissed you but you weren't complaining. "God, Red Hood-" You breath, his breathing labored as he rests his forehead against yours. "Never speak of this Stray,"

[glossyybabie]

identity

part 19 || part 20

Summary: You can feel yourself crumbling away.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Blood and gore. A Missy-esque bit of body horror.

Word count: 1376

Notes: Applying to internships has taken up all of my time so I haven’t been able to update in aeons. I’m not even sorry.

Waking up dazed and confused was becoming a very natural feeling for you. This ceiling was a strangely common sight. The pale grey tiles felt as though they were staring back at you with a shared kind of familiarity.

You pushed yourself upright. Your body immediately put up plenty of resistance, but not as much as you’d been expecting. A morbid part of you knew that you were just adjusting. This sort of discomfort would be the new normal.

Your gaze drew towards a tray of bloodied tools, resting harmlessly against the arm of a pristine white chair. The blue latex gloves on the other armrest had been twisted inside out to avoid splattering the chair in red.

Your palms smoothed down your hospital gown against your skin. You felt no bruises, no unevenness in the form of bumps or scarring. Your skin was clear, if dull, almost monochrome. You wondered just how many basic vitamins and minerals you were dangerously low on.

You started forward on wobbly legs. Pain radiated in a multitude of areas — some areas you didn't even know were capable of being in pain. But it was easy enough to ignore. That pain wasn't too sharp or troublesome. It didn't have you doubling over. If you could walk, you were fine.

You toyed with a blood-caked scalpel in your hand. In hindsight, you weren't even sure what had compelled you to pick it up. It wasn't as if any weapon existed that was a match for Missy. And even if there was, it wouldn't be a scalpel. The fires of hell probably weren't strong enough for that bitch–

"Who? Me?"

Missy stood behind you. Just a few feet away, she was just as refined and imposing as you'd always remembered her being. Her plum skirts swished around her legs as she took a step closer. You followed the line of her vision towards the scalpel in your hand.

"Now, where exactly were you going with that?" Missy asked calmly.

When interacting with Missy, there was no such thing as a lie. Lies were for just about anyone else.

"For a walk."

Missy grinned, a sweet yet cold expression that exposed her teeth. "Sure you are, poppet. Come on, back to mummy."

She was beckoning you back, her hands open and waiting for you to take. You stared at her palms. She didn't make a move towards you. She was letting you make the next move.

You shifted the scalpel around in your hand. "Why should I?" you challenged her. "Why should I do anything you say if it doesn't matter anyway?"

Missy exhaled sharply. "Sweetheart, I can't do this with you every time you have a crisis of self. Just come over here, give me your new toy, and no one has to get hurt. Alright?"

You watched her go still. Even now, your move in this game wasn't over yet. She was giving you a rare chance to reconsider. This was her showing mercy. She wasn't hurting you . . .

Yet. But she hadn't hurt you for a year of your life, and yet she'd never created wounds that ran so deep. She didn't need to cause harm in order to hurt. She was above that.

You shook your head. "No."

Pain shot through your arm like nothing you could have imagined. Your fingers were frozen around the steel door handle. You couldn’t consciously move them. You couldn’t move anything.

All too soon, sensation returned. You jerked away and stumbled onto the floor. The scalpel in your hand scraped across your face, eventually skidding across the shiny floor to a halt and leaving a notable trail of blood in its wake.

Your face erupted in blistering pain. You let out a pained cry and clasped your hands over your nose and mouth as blood poured over your trembling lips.

Missy stooped down and pinched the chunk of mangled flesh from the floor. “I suppose I can officially say got your nose.”

You wanted to scream for so many reasons. Tears burned in your eyes. Your throat was tight, but that feeling was nothing compared to the hot, thick viscera that coated your mouth and chin. You struggled to breathe past the fluids on your face.

You started to roll onto your front, but Missy slipped the tip of her boot beneath you before you could manage. She started to forcefully turn you over, ignoring your sobbing, garbled protests.

“Come on,” Missy said lightly, kneeling carelessly in the pool of blood beside you. “Let’s see what you’ve done. Don’t be shy now.”

This was all her fault — all of this was her fault. You were so defeated. The blood started to dribble down your cheeks and through your nose where it reached your throat. Your attempted coughs resembled inhuman grunts.

Missy pulled your damp hands away from your face. She laughed.

“Oh dear. See, this is why we don’t walk around with sharp tools. It’s only a matter of time before I get bored and shock you into slicing your organs off,” Missy sighed. She toyed with the exposed raw meat of your open wound, uncaring of the way you writhed in pain and clawed at her arms, gurgling incoherent words. “I think we can do better though. Shall we go again? I’ll aim for something more substantial this time, like an eye. Ooh, maybe an ear. Your tongue, if I time it right.”

You couldn’t stop crying. You were humiliated. You’d sustained injuries to last several lifetimes, you’d been torn apart and hastily glued back together in every way possible, but this felt more real than anything Missy had hurled at you before.

This was your face. It was the only familiar sight in your reflection. It reminded you of who you truly were. And now it was as disfigured, haggard, unattractive as the rest of you. Crumbling and wasting away like a plastic-corroded doll in a charity shop.

This was the largest piece of your identity to flake away so far. And it hurt.

Missy started to pull you up. You were just relieved that she was no longer poking her sharp red fingernails into the gaping hole in your face. “Come on, that’s enough sulking,” she said impatiently. “You humans are so hopelessly hideous with or without basic facial features, so I wouldn’t worry your ugly little head about it. That’s the spirit.”

She forced you to walk towards the bed you’d woken up in, disregarding the crippling pain you were in. Your knees buckled hopelessly beneath you. Missy half-dragged you alongside her.

“And hey,” she continued, “maybe someday I’ll get bored and reattach your nose. Or a nose, anyway. That’ll give you something to look forward to.”

You choked on a gasp. Blood spurted out of your mouth, all tangy on the tip of your tongue. You tried to make the most of the sensation — it was a matter of time before Missy started focusing on new areas of your face to maim.

Your knees slammed firmly onto the unforgiving floor. The blood-loss was starting to make you feel lightheaded. The thumping against the front of your skull wouldn’t cease, no matter how much you willed it.

You tried to speak, with little success. Your words tumbled out gurgled and splattered with blood. Hardly coherent.

Missy leaned in closer, tilting her ear towards you. “What was that, dear?”

You felt sick. The way she made you feel was dehumanising. On your knees in front of her. Pleading. Begging. Worthlessly so.

You cleared the immediate blood from your mouth and sobbed. “. . . Help me, Missy.”

Missy sighed, lowering her head in resignation. “Oh, alright,” she conceded. “Since you asked so nicely.”

She lifted your limp body off the floor. You put up no resistance as she carried you the remaining distance, her arms firmly supporting your weight this time. She gently set you down and lowered your head onto a soft pillow.

She moved the tray of tools towards herself. You watched her settle down comfortably, one leg neatly crossed over the other, as she reached for a familiar silver rod. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Let me just give my cautery rod a chance to heat up first.”

[modulatechaos]

greetings saint, happy (belated) new year ! ! ! may this one be prosperous ! ! ! for the wip ask game ....... pls ........ can we see a crumb of either the Infernal Weapon Bayonetta AU or First Blood Beyond the Shadow Ch 3 ???

Hello! And thank you! May yours be prosperous as well! I would be delighted to give you a little peek at Infernal Weapon Bayonetta AU!

-----

Bayonetta wakes up in a world that's left her behind, coughing and sputtering on cold liquid. It's thick and tastes vaguely of sulfur and something unfamiliarity sweet. She doesn't panic, not entirely, not fully, one hand clamping down on the side of the tank she pulls herself out of- The space where her other arm used to be is empty, metal and wire crawling along the edges of her shoulder and melding into muscle and scar tissue. "You're lucky," Rodin drawls, leaning against the counter nearby. His workshop somewhere in the depths of the Gates of Hell's back rooms. "They did such a number on you I was afraid I wouldn't be able to put you back together." She's covered in scars, can feel them pull taut across muscle as she rises up to her feet, dazed and a little annoyed. "I don't recall requesting that you put me back together," she replies, dryly. She can't even remember when it was he dug her out of the depths of inferno.

-----

I'll give a tiny bit of First Blood 3 as well!

----

Underneath her Diomedes stamps his hoof, as if he senses her apprehension. Wrong. She knows something is wrong, can feel it in the inherent clattering sense of disorientation that settles like a haze around her.

She knows she's in the right place, knows that whatever creature had taken residence in this area outside of Ashborne was going to be a problem even for the most veteran of hunters.

Perhaps, even for her.

[moonlight-prose]

Pleasure is a Kind of Pain

a/n: who asked for president loki ruining them? no one, but i literally can't get that man out of my HEAD. so here we are. this is just filth with no plot and a sprinkle of poetic bullshit.

Not tagging anyone cause it's pretty filthy and idk who wants to read this. Not beta read OR edited so if there are mistakes....that's my bad.

summary: pissing him off never goes well, but you seem to never get enough of pressing his buttons.

word count: 2.5k

pairing: president!loki x fem!reader

warnings: ooohhhh boy your girl went batshit insane on this one; EXPLICIT SO MINORS YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T BE HERE, knife play, knife kink cause it's me, hate fucking turned to love, cussing, prez loki being mean, choking, tw: blood, fingering, cum play, p in v sex, dominant president loki, slight submission, tenderness cause i'm a softie.

You were fucked.

Literally as well as figuratively, because you had cussed him out using some of the most vulgar language you could fit into a single sentence. Knew that the second the words left your mouth you’d find yourself in a situation similar to the one you were in now. Shoved against the wall with a dagger to your throat. It was dramatic - even for him - but you couldn’t deny the way you physically reacted to riling him up.

Watching his face contort into an expression of absolute rage. A part of you didn't mind that the fury was directed at you, and perhaps that the part you should have shut down. The sick portion of your brain that kept you in place. Leaving you wondering if it was you or him that had created this burning need in your body. That had you unconsciously arching yourself towards his blade.

A smile begins to spread on your lips at the sight of him baring his teeth at you.

"What are you going to do prez?" you asked with a taunting lilt behind your words. Already prepared for what was to come with the storm behind the false calm in his eyes.

There wasn't much that had to be done in order for his strands of control to snap. Hell, he'd sever them himself happily if it meant getting to see you this way. Willingly resign himself to being forever known as the devil. A temper that would put other Lokis to shame.

"You seem to be in a playful mood," he replied, his voice teeming with venom.

How could you not be? When he held a knife so delicately, so reverently, against your throat that it could be deemed as romantic. The type that he portrayed that is. No words to be said; merely a few grunted words, spit in your direction as you pressed the buttons under his skin. A delight you partook in far too often for your own good, for your own sanity. But what was the point of sanity when the opposite was - oh so - delicious.

When what he offered you - chaos on a gold platter served with a side of pain - was better than anything you had before. Better than never playing in this game he enjoyed.

"That's putting it lightly."

That made him smile. His lips curling up into a look that could be its own version of lethal.

He had an ego that was for sure. You knew it the second you met him. Charm that could sweep anyone off their feet, with eyes that made deals with the devil.

“I would ask what you want, but it seems to me like you’ve already decided on something.” A lie that you’d grown fond of hearing, unlike all the other ones. He already knew what you wanted, what he wanted more specifically, and you wanted to bet it had something to do with the way he was looking at you.

Wetting your lips you reached for the hand that wasn’t gripping his weapon, dragging it down towards the button of your pants. Showing him exactly what you desired, what you’d be giving him if he willed it, if he wished for it. People would call it a mistake to let him consume you, to have him drag you into the whirlwind storm that was his love. Yet the mistake had already been made.

Again, and again. You continued to choose him over anything else. Chose his silvertongue that whispered lies of sweetness to you; promised a love that you fell for each time. Because it was addicting. He was your drug, the one thing you’d never be rid of. The person you couldn’t say goodbye to.

“Good girl,” he whispered, knife pressing further into your throat until it bordered on pain. Until it had your heart racing, eyes fluttering closed in euphoric passion.

His lips met yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue rendering you useless as his hand popped the button on your pants effortlessly. A move he’d done more times than you could count. And yet you still fall apart for it each time. Begged for it, because it was just what he made you out to be; his perfect spitfire. Someone who could go toe-to-toe with him in both combat and the throes of passion.

“You’re already a mess for me.” Another taunt, followed by a kiss that had you gasping for air. His teeth pricking open the skin of your bottom lip; a coppery taste of your blood mixing with the taste of him.

Both complementary of each other as they should be. Balance in its darkest form.

A smile curved on your lips, eyes lighting up with a challenge. “I could make myself a better mess...since you’re taking so long.”

He didn’t like that; eyes flashing with a look that told you everything you needed to know. You were challenging his pride. Teasing him with the insinuation that he wasn’t an adequate lover, that he couldn’t turn you into a puddle of nerves. Voice nearly gone from how loud he could make you scream. And while it was a statement you both knew to be false, he still didn’t like that you had the guts to say it aloud.

His hand slipped underneath the band of your pants, forehead pressing against yours as he found you to be soaked. His own smile took over; the knife still stuck in place.

“Now,” he breathed out, lips barely brushing against yours. “I believe I’m the only one allowed to lie.”

“Since when has that - fuck - been a rule?” You wanted to let him know that control went both ways in this fucked up situation you shared. Except that would only be another lie.

He had you wrapped around his fingers. The same ones that had plunged into you, finding the spot along your wall that had your legs shaking. It was unfair how fast he could shove you off the ledge. With only a few words that were borderline mean, the grin on his face was something you wanted to slap off. Yet you couldn’t move. Not when the knife was still against your throat; a piece of his dominance in such a pretty weapon.

Pressing his thumb against your clit he watched - enraptured - as your eyes fluttered shut, mouth falling open, another sinful sound echoing off the dirty walls. You were his; his love in the form of an angel with a bloodlust that would terrify the devil himself.

“It’s been a rule ever since you said you were mine.” His voice, sickly sweet, cooed in your ear. Eyes trained on your body that writhed underneath his touch.

Your impending orgasm building up in your body. The pressure, glorious in its own way; driving you to the very edge until you could no longer hear what he was saying. He crooked his finger in a certain way that changed the angle of the way they pumped into you, and that’s what did it. Had you clutching onto his tattered suit jacket, a high pitched sob falling from your lips as the pleasure crested and you were left in shatters.

Chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. A sting of pain on your throat as your movement caused the blade to prick your skin. It didn’t matter. Didn’t bother you, because you were still coming down from your high, body floating above The Void in it’s own way.

His lips slotted against yours again. Roughly licking into your mouth as he sucked on your tongue, moaning when your hands dug into his hair. Yanking it painfully to pull his head back, giving you access to his neck. The knife shifted slightly to allow you room to place your mark on his skin; to show that not only were you his, but he was yours. He would always be yours.

Power play be damned.

A groan tore from his chest, hand gripping the back of your neck to keep you in place, the hardness that dug into your hip telling you how much he was enjoying this. How much he loved giving you a small piece of control. It didn’t border on give and take. Didn’t abide by those rules.

No, it was take and take and take, whenever he wanted. Whenever you wanted. You were desperate for one another; willing to go through pain for each other and beg for more. Beg to have a love that had been poisoned a long time ago.

“Enough.” One single word to get you to stop, but you were stubborn. Refused his every command, because it was fun.

A snarled out cuss word echoed off the walls, the knife pushing into your throat as he worked on your pants with the other; his teeth baring with feral need. You had your fun and now it was time for him to ruin you for everyone else. For him to hear you sweetly cry out for him. With your assistance you managed to yank your pants off, kicked them across the floor with your shoes; his trousers only needing to be opened to where you could pull him out.

“Someone’s desperate,” you whispered, lips pressing against the corner of his mouth, hand stroking him lightly. Just to feel his chest heave, his breath leaving his mouth in pants.

Gripping your thigh he slung your leg around his hip, lips brushing against your cheek in a move that was far too delicate for him. Too much romance and yet you welcome it. Kissed him softly, winding your arms around his neck, tongue meeting his as he pushed into you. The feeling familiar; something you couldn’t give up. And maybe this was the sick part. The poison that bled through your dynamic with him.

Except it was far too good to let it go. His hips meeting yours, the fullness of him too good for you to do anything else but cry into his mouth. The slight pinch of pain that came with taking all of him is just another addition to the euphoria he brought you Another reason you were addicted to him.

“So prez,” you said, knowing the next few words would diminish the romance, would tear it to shreds. “You going to fuck me like I’m yours?”

The smile he gave you was almost rueful. Malicious in all the right ways, because you still had a knife to your throat. Still had the tang of your blood on your tongue, and it wasn’t enough. Because you wanted the monster to come out. Wanted to see the Hyde to your Jekyll.

“Don’t ask for things that will break you,” he replied, his grip on your hip letting you know what he fully intended to do.

You returned his smile with fierce voracity, the need for him clear enough. “Maybe I want to be broken.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, a look that told you everything you needed to know, before he was pulling out. Slamming back into you hard enough for your head to hit the wall. A cry of surprise leaving your lips, hands digging into the fabric of his jacket to keep him close. It was brutally beautiful. Everything you wanted; everything you asked him for.

Words in a different language were spat out, hips slamming into yours as he dragged you to another blissful cliff. One you’d happily fall off of. It was madness in the purest form. Hatred coupled with a love so sinful it had your heart twisting violently in your chest, and you loved it. Ached for it. Moans tore from your throat, unabashedly loud, because you couldn’t give a shit. Not when he was fucking you like it was the last time.

The steady sound of your slick mixed with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. His grunts sounded just as pretty as your sobs. Nails began to prick at the skin of his neck as you wrapped your palms around it, wanting to show him that this was not his time to be in control. This was an equal show of dominance and if anything it had him slamming into you faster.

Eyes turning vicious in delight at the sight of your wrecked expression.

“So fucking pretty for me,” he harshly got out, knife tilting your chin up, until you were looking up into his eyes. “Bending to my will.”

“Fuck. You.”

He chuckled, shifting the angle of his thrusts, searching for one that would make you relent your hold on his throat. And he found it the second your head fell against the wall, eyes rolling back, a high pitched scream ripping from your chest. A sight that he wished to see over and over again. And he would get to. Each thrust focused on the same spot; your leg starting to shake violently until it was clear you were right there.

On the precipice.

“Oh but my sweet darling,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly from holding his own pleasure at bay. “You are fucking me. Or is it me who is fucking you?”

Just as you were about to fall, crash into a heap and love every second. He froze. You screamed in anger, hands hitting his chest; tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

“Why?” you gasped out, desperate for him to move.

He simply smiled. “I want you to beg for it.”

Yet another taunt, another piece of the game, yet you were too far gone to fight him on it now. You needed it; craved it until you were walking the border of sanity and madness. The wave of emotions turning you into a whimpering mess, because you wanted him.

“Please,” you whispered, hands cupping his face as you arched your neck. Giving his blade more access to the delicate skin there. “Please fuck me. Ruin me Loki. I’m yours forever. I’ve always been yours. Everything about me is-”

You let out a strangled gasp when he moved again. The speed from before only grew until you could do nothing but fall against the wall. Melt into his grasp and cry out for him when he pressed against your clit to shove you off the edge. You were pretty sure you screamed until everyone could hear you, but that didn’t matter, because it was too good to stay silent. Far too much for you to handle.

He dropped the knife to the ground, burying his face into your neck until he was finding his own release. A moan of your name falling from his lips, only seeming to add to the pleasure that coursed through your body.

His cum dripped down your thighs even before he pulled out, and you knew he liked it.

Found it to be one of his favorite sights.

“My love,” he breathed out, tenderness showing through the fury. “You anger me on purpose.”

You sighed, content to remain there with him inside of you. “It’s worth it.”

He smiled, fingers dancing along your spine. “Perhaps it is.”

This was the side of him you rarely got the chance to see. The tender man behind the chaos, behind the cold exterior he showed to the rest of the world. The man who whispered promises to you that he intended on keeping. Ones that would result in situations like this; pleasure bordering on pain in its own delicious way.

A game you would never stop playing.

[nyxreads]

Elain as Taylor Swift

A Place In This World (in NC)

"Maybe I'm just a girl on a mission, but I'm ready to fly"

I'm Only Me When I'm Wih You (to Az)

"Through it all nobody gets me like you do"

"And only you can tell"

Superstar (to Az)

"I'd be breaking all my rules to see you"

The Other Side of The Door (To Az)

"So babe if you know everything, tell me why you couldn't see that when I left I wanted you to chase after me"

Fearless (to Az)

"But you pull me in and I'm a little more brave. It's the first kiss. It's flawless."

Lovestory (to Az)

"So, I sneak out to the garden to see you. We keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew."

"This love is difficult but it's real"

The Way I Loved You (to Lu/ien)

"He can't see the smile I'm faking and my heart's not breaking 'cause I'm not feeling anything at all"

Change (to Az)

"These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down"

Mean (to her antis)

"You, with your mean words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me"

"well, you can take me down with just one single blow but you don't know what you don't know"

The Story of Us (to Az)

"Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking, and I'm dying to know is it killing you like it's killing me, yeah?"

Enchanted (to Az)

"All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you"

"The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy"

Ours (to Az)

"Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. They'll judge it like they know about me and you. And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do. The jury's out but my choice is you."

"So don't you worry your pretty, little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine. And life makes love look hard. The stakes are high, the water's rough. But this love is ours."

I Almost Do (to Az)

"I bet this time of night you're still up. I bet you're tired from a long hard week. I bet you're sitting in your chair by the window looking out at the city. And I bet sometimes you wonder about me."

Stay stay stay (to Az)

"You took the time to memorize me: my fears, my hopes, and dreams. I just like hangin' out with you all the time. All those times that you didn't leave. It's been occurring to me I'd like to hang out with you for my whole life."

Begin Again (to Az)

"And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. I've been spending the last eight months, thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end. But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again."

Shake it Off (to her antis) (Prolly whole lyrics but this is my fave)

"Got nothing in my brain, that's what people say"

"And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate"

"I never miss a beat, I'm lightning on my feet and that's what they don't see,"

Nothing New (to Antis)

"Girls, go out and have your fun" then they hunt and slay the ones who actually do it. Criticize the way you fly when you're soarin' through the sky"

Wildest Dreams (to Az)

"He's so tall and handsome as hell, he's so bad but he does it so well."

"I said, "No one has to know what we do" his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room. And his voice is a familiar sound. Nothin' last forever. But this is gettin' good now."

"Say you'll remember me standin' in a nice dress starin' at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rose cheeks say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams"

That's How You Get The Girl (to Az)

"Pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, and say you want me"

End Game (Elriel)

"I wanna be your endgame"

"You and me would be a big conversation, ah"

I Did Something Bad (to her antis)

"They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one. They got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reason."

Don't Blame Me (Elriel)

"For you, I would cross the line. I would waste my time. I would lose my mind."

Delicate (to Az)

"My reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me"

Look What You Made Me Do (to antis)

"I'll be the actress starring in your bad dreams"

So It Goes (To Az)

"You know I'm not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you. So it goes."

King Of My Heart (To Az)

"Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending. With all these nights we're spending."

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (to Az)

"I, I loved you in secret"

"My, my love had been frozen. Deep blue, but you painted me golden. Oh, and you held me close. Oh, how was I to know what."

Dress (Elriel)

"Our secret moments in a crowded room. They got no idea about me and you."

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation. My hands are shaking from holding back from you."

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (to antis)

"So why'd you have to rain on my parade? I'm shaking my head and locking the gates."

Call It What You Want (to Az)

"My baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene. Loves me like I'm brand new"

"All my flowers grew back as thorns. Windows boarded up after the storm. He built a fire just to keep me warm."

"I want to wear his intlitial on a chain 'round my neck. Chain 'round my neck. Not because he owns me. But 'cause he really knows me."

Cruel Summer (To Az)

"Bad, bad boy, shiny toy with a price you know that I bought it."

"And it's new, the shape of your body it's blue, the feeling that I've got and it's ooh, woah oh."

"I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you and I snuck in through the garden gate. Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh)."

Lover (Elriel)

"My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue. All's well that ends well to end up with you."

"And at every table, I'll save you a seat. Lover"

The Man (to her antis)

"And I'm so sick of them coming at me again. 'Cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man."

Paper Rings (To Az)

"Darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this. Uh huh, that's right."

You Need To Calm Down (To antis)

"And I'm just like "Hey! Are you OK?""

"That stressing and obsessing 'bout somebody else is no fun'"

"You need to calm down, you're being too loud."

"You need to just stop. Like, can you just not step on my gown?"

"Why are you mad when you could be GLAAD?"

"And we see you over there on the Internet COMPARING all the girls who are killing it."

Daylight

"I wanna be defined by the things that I love not the things I hate. Not the things that I'm afraid of. Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night."

The 1 (to Az)

"But it would've been fun, if you would've been the one."

Mad Woman (To antis)

"And women like hunting witches, too. Doing your dirtiest work for you. It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together."

Ivy (to Az)

"My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. Taking mine, but it's been promised to another."

"He's in the room, your opal eyes are all I wish to see. He wants what's only yours"

Ready For It? (AZ TO ELAIN)

"In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do, baby"

I honestly don't have the energy to write Az version but feel free guys haha.

[lareinenoir]

THE PURGE; Sanctuary C.E x black reader

PT III

60 Days Until The Purge

THEN...

"I'll order take out. I know you like Thai-"

"Don't order anything. I'm actually not even hungry." You said as he took your bag and put it on his shoulder. "What?" He was looking at you weird and it made you frown.

"Where's the rest of your stuff?"

"You asked me to stay the night. That is my overnight bag." You replied folding your arms and walking over to the couch. Your hand touched your forehead and you sighed. You could still feel him looking at you as you tried to relax with your head leaned back. "After I tell Shonda about our situation, you're signing the papers."

"What do you mean-"

"You know what I mean." You shot back

"Ok, well theirs a lot to consider now." He motioned to your stomach and you sat up straight. "We're having a baby, now."

"No no no." You shook your head feeling your petty insides bubble a bit in sarcasm. "I'm having a baby. Me. Just me.”

"Obviously I want to be apart of our baby's life." Chris argued back and you frowned and scoffed. He put your bag down and crossed his arms as you brushed it off. "You can't seriously think I won't. V that's insane."

"You wanna know what's insane? You think you're gonna get anywhere near it. Why in the hell would I allow you and your broken promises anywhere near my child? Do you think I'm stupid? To make the same mistake twice!"

"Again? V what do you want me to do?" He asks throwing his hands up. "Acting is what I do, that's my job-"

"I don't care about that. I'm not asking you to chose your job or me-"

"It damn well near sounds like it. I would never make you choose." He countered back and you gripped your fists together.

"You may not have said it directly, but there have been many times where you have indirectly patronized me. I just found out I'm pregnant and I have been trying so hard to deal with it." you replied watching him pace back and forth and shake his head. "I have been getting the worst headaches, I can't keep any food down and I literally get lightheaded on set every single day because hiding my pregnancy has been a real joy ride." You replied sarcastically with a small chuckle

"What do you want me to do? I tell you to tell the producers, you get mad. I tell you to take a break, you get mad. I tell you to come over and you’re mad.” Chris said in disbelief. “I don't know what you want from me." He shrugs brushing the hair from his eyes.

"Not once since you found out have you asked me how I'm doing? My whole career is at risk I could lose my job. And you don't even seem to care.” You said

"V, I do care." He reached for your shoulder and you took in another breath. "I want you to stop worrying all the time. And you're right, I should be concerned more about you. I should be there for you-I should've been there for you in the beginning.” He admitted and you folded your lips again.

Are For real this time? Should I let it go and move past it? Again? No because it'll start all over again.

"This baby is mine. This is a life changing thing that's happening, I can't let you ruin it too." You spoke

" I'm taking responsibility because this is something I want. Ok? Can't we find some common ground? You of all people should know what it's like to grow up without a father!"

"You know too!" You shouted back. Chris' dad had died when he was younger. He talked about him sometimes but not as much. "I'd rather have had my father six feet under then to have him choosing when it's convenient for him to show up!" You said with your foot down shaking your head.

"Forget the divorce. Me and you living here happily married for the years to come. Whats so bad about that? Why can't I have that? What's so wrong with the picture of two parents raising a child?" His voice was loud and he was getting frustrated. He didn't shout, but you could tell how passionate he was about it. He always wanted to be a daddy, a parent. "Huh?"

"It's not just about you!" You said stepping closer. "Because..." You shrugged feeling your eyes water as you suck in your cheeks. "I knew the kind of man I was marrying. So involved with his job it took him almost fifteen years to actually start dating. It's not about you or your career. This baby is all I have right now.”

He looked confused as he relaxed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose. From two feet away you could feel his heartbeat and you felt a little bad for how foolish you probably looked. You still loved him, not like you ever stopped, but you remembered that you still loved him.

Because, it's not about me either anymore. You thought

"Forget the papers okay..." You said swallowing your own pride. "just forget it. You’re right. I want our child to have two parents who will love him unconditionally. But it has to stop, because it takes two. I can't have you with one foot in the door." You admitted

“Yeah yeah.” He nodded “yeah I get that. I’m not going anywhere.” Chris said and you walked forward and took his hand kissing his palm as you placed it on the side of your face. “I promise V.” He cups your face and stares into your eyes. His stubble poking at you a bit as you held his wrists.

“I love you.” You said with a small smile

“Still?” He laughed making you roll your eyes as you giggled a little. “I love you too. Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” He asks again

“Yes.” You nodded “now shut up and come take a nap with me.”

NOW....

CHRIS POV**

“Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!” I said throwing the phone on the couch. I had called five times and her phone went straight to voicemail.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. ALL Weapons have been authorized for use during the purge. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 121 days. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until December 15, 12:00 o’clock midnight, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

My tv was replayed the message nine more times before shutting off. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Today is august 15, Vanessa’s birthday is tomorrow which was when she’d be 17 weeks. We had marked it on the calendar together. More than half my wife’s pregnancy would be spent during the purge. I needed to find her!

I didn’t support the purge. Something about killing people to be “cleansed” just didn’t sit right in my gut. It made my heart ache thinking about the clean up at the end. I could bring Dodger, but he can only do so much. Maybe he could help track her scent. Grabbing my coat I folded my lips together.

“Fuck!” I shout

With what weapon? How was I going to run the streets looking for my wife without a gun? I loved the idea of owning one, but Vanessa made me swear not to bring one in the house if she was there. So I just dropped the idea. Looking in the kitchen I grabbed one of the Chef knives off the rack. Maybe this would be enough for now...

“Damnit!” I curse looking at Dodger. “She said she was at Topanga Park. Start there?” I asked, as if he’d answer back. I grabbed her bonnet from off the bathroom door handle and stuffed it in my backpack.

I didn’t hesitate l. I locked up everything and jumped inside my truck. Dodger sat on the passenger side and I felt my hands start to shake as I put my foot on the gas. I started to promise god I would go to church if he would keep her safe.

“I don’t even know if you’re even listening or you even care. I love her, I’ve been such and idiot and I don’t wanna lose her.” I looked at Dodger and he was sitting up straight. “I remember you didn’t like her. You wouldn’t let her anywhere near me, you bark and squeeze yourself in between us when we sat down in the room to watch movies.” I chuckle wiping the little tear that slipped from my eye “You stole one of her wigs too.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” she shouted chasing you around the house. “DODGER GIVE IT BACK! COME BACK!”

We chased him around the house and Dodger thought it was some sort of game. We had been officially dating for a month. I had started laughing when I caught him and held her headband wig in my hand. She stood their with her arms folded while I petted his head and she rolled her eyes.

"I told you he doesn't like me." She said as I stood up and she took the wig from my hand.

"Come on, he's just getting used to you."

"I've been over here every day. Your dog hates me."

"What?" I tilted my head to the side and touch her nose with my index finger. "Deal breaker? If my dog doesn't like my girlfriend, I'm gonna dump her? Tell me where that makes sense."

She walked closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist looking up at the ceiling as I kissed her neck. "I guess you have a point." Vanessa sighed.

"He's just warming up to you that's all."

"What's stopping me from breaking up with you?"

"Over a dog?"

"This is his third assault against me. First it was tearing up my purse, then chewing up my crocs, not to mention the little shit I found inside of them. And now stealing my wig and playing cat and mouse." Said Vanessa as I rested my head on top of hers. "Luckily this is a backup wig."

“Aren’t you wearing one right now?” I asked

“Headband wig. And that wig your dog has destroyed,” she gave him the side eye “it was my favorite and expensive.” She gritted her teeth

“I’ll buy you another one.” I offered

She purses her lips and shook her head. “I don’t want you buying me anything. I’ll just break up with you. For real this time.”

"Fine then..." I baited her shrugging my shoulders. "Break up with me."

“Over a dog?” She frowns mocking me as I smile down at her and her eyebrows bend downward a little as she caressed my face. Her finger was gentle and she stood on her top toes and kissed my lips. “Never.”

...

I look over at Dodger and pat his head. "We'll find her. I know we will." I say trying to lift my spirits.

When we arrived to Topanga Park, it was a sight. I didn't even want to leave the truck. I felt my heart race a little more. "What the hell..."

In the middle of traffic-in between the cars were bodies. Dodger started barking at the train of blood that stained the streets. It was empty, but I could feel a heavy weight on my back. Walking behind me, next to me...it was all around me. I hadn't realized I had my hand over my mouth an nose, it was hard for me to breath as the stench of dead bodies. Dodger kept barking and that led to me chasing after him. I had her bonnet in one hand and I called after him.

I came to a halt when I came face to face with another person. He had Dodger in his hands and I felt my muscle tense up. He was tall and very familiar looking. I swallowed the lump in my throat and held the kitchen knife in my hand with a firm grip.

"Captain America?"

I tilted my head sideways and licked my lower lip narrowing my brow a little. "Yeah, give me the dog and we can go our separate ways. Ok?"

He nodded his head. He ran his fingers through his hair and put the dog down. I wasn't really concerned about who he was I was trying to prepare for a fight. He dropped his gun on the ground and held up his his hand.

"I'm not going to kill you. I'm looking for my wife." He said "She left her watch in that building." He pointed to the school and slowly pulled the watch from his pocket.

"In there?" I asked

"Yeah." He nodded, but I still couldn't shake the feeling I knew him from somewhere. "My name is Jared. My wife's name is Gianne, I'm pretty sure she was with someone else-are you looking for someone too? Maybe we could help each other. There was something written on the chalkboard in there, I wasn't something Gia would write, but she was here. All I wanna do is find her-"

"Supernatural?" I asked turning my head to the side. Vanessa loved that show. Whenever she had spare time she would watch it or on those many night she'd spend the night at my house we would watch it-well not really watch it. The Netflix and 'chill' was emphasized. "You said something about some sort of message on the wall?" I asked motioning with my hand. "what did it say?"

"um, CE equals BE or something like that." He shrugged

I laughed a little. Vanessa Evans plus Chris Evans equals Baby Evans. It was a stupid joke-an Easter egg if you will. Shonda put in the show on the whiteboard in one of our love scenes as a way to announce our pregnancy to the audience. She often left clues to the next episode in every episode except this one was not only in the show but in real life.

"Chris Evans." I say extending my hand out to him. I'm pretty sure he knew by the little smile playing on his face. He shook my hand and nodded his head.

"I know. I'm a big marvel fan, I know all your lines." Jared chuckled and then cleared his throat as he nervously laughed. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jared Padalecki - I know I said that already..."

I introduced him to Dodger and I felt a little more relaxed. I gathered that she was alive and we both came to the assumption that they were traveling together.

"Where do you think their headed?" I asked as we walked to his car which was tricked out and full of ammunition and guns. Not to mention government level protective gear.

"While I was in there, I picked up someone else. Heavy footed and big, traveling with dogs. Hair everywhere." He went on tossing me a bullet proof vest. "You heard of Sanctuary?"

"The safety place? Yeah, but it's hard to find. It's for people who get caught in the Purge right?"

He narrowed his brow and shook his head. "No." Said Jared sharply. "Sanctuary is a secret government funded task force. It started off as a conspiracy some myth to explain all the random disappearances throughout the year. It's a government project designed for population control." He went on

"Ok...what does that have anything to do with the Purge?"

"Everything. An organization designed to control the US population. We're talking Pro killers who were once on a leash, but when that horn sounded and the Purge began, they are just as free to kill anyone they want." Said Jared handing me an ipad. It was a list of celebrities. From pro athletes like Steph Curry and their immediate families to movie stars and singers like Rhianna and Tom Cruise. "There are rumors that they are hunting celebrities. The kardashians and Jenner's are fair game. If not the stars themselves then they choose their parents, brothers and sisters."

"And do what?" I asked quietly as I saw mine and Vanesssa picture

"Most get auctioned off to the highest bidder, I've also heard they kill them on the spot for money or bring them in to fight for the death. Bottom line, there is a bounty on our heads. During the Purge everyone is fair game, their is no protection."

"You're telling me she's out there being hunted by them right now?" I asked

“Possibly. The dog hair isn’t a breed we know. They are a combination of hunting canines, bloodhound, foxhound, Labrador retriever with the built and aggression of a something like a pit bull a Rottweiler.” Said Jared as I looked up from the iPad and gave it back. “You’re gonna need more than a kitchen knife. We find the dogs and the hunter and we’ll find them.”

He held a gun out to me and wiped my mouth with the palm of my hand trying to mentally prepare for what is to come."

“Do you believe in the Purge?” I asked still questioning why his car was full of weapons. “You kill people?”

He nodded his head. “Yes. I don’t believe in hiding or waiting for someone to kill me. We all have the right to Purge."

"What's stopping you from killing me?"

Jared sighed and shook his head. "I'm hunting them. I'm surviving and if you decide to threaten my survival, then I'll kill you." He went over to the driver side of his Ford charger. "Get in. Knowing Gia she is headed for Roberts hole."

"What's that?" I asked climbing in the passenger seat of the car.

“It’s a Cassino for celebrities. Jack Black owns it. It’s locked up right but open to his favorites during the Purge.”

“They’ll be there?”

“Relax.” He out his hand in my shoulder and looked at me as dodger sat in the back seat. “We will find them. You know how to shoot don’t you?” Jared raised his gun in the air and nodded my head.

I guess it wasn’t confidently and he chuckled. “Vanessa isn’t a fan of guns.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll practice. Ok?”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Sorry it took so long😬 don’t hate me, please. Lol, I hope everyone is doing well and safe out here. If you wanna be tagged leave it in the ask box, Anyways…Untill next time!

Tags!

@Tantricevans

@rosey1981

@toni9

@onceuponahuntersrealm

@pm-my-hubbies

@Cynthetic

@liqourlaughslove

@melaninfalconbucky

@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[beastie-anon]

I think that Ron and Ceasar would be a cute couple so some light fluffy nsfw with them would be cute

Holy shit that would be cute ok here I go- We'll do some cute fluff first and I'll put nsfw under a cut!)

Ron and Ceasar were locked into a room together, Ron for once did the smart thing and sat down. He mostly just wanted to see what Ceasar would do, To see if he would be a threat or not. Ceasar was banging on walls and trying to break through, Failing horribly. As a last resort he slammed his weapon he made into it, And it shattered. Ceasar was panicking, And Ron seeing how his attempts were for nothing decided against trying himself. Ceasar was a famous streamer after all, And he showed his strength in some of his videos. Ron saw Ceasar do shit he couldn't even think of doing, So really it would be pointless.

"Hey uh- C-Ceasar, I know it's a horrible time but.. Can I get an autograph? Heheh..? I-It was so cool how you killed so many humans and when you sang that song you made with the guitar! It was so cool and you sounded amazing!"

"Cut the crap 'your majesty'. All anyone ever watches me for is for a look at my.. Ugh, Goods."

"I'm serious- I liked those episodes the best. I listen to your podcasts while I work since I can't really watch stuff while on the job-"

"I said cut the crap! I bet you don't even know what I said in those videos!"

"Why are you so defensive?!"

"Because I know that nobody in hell would ever want me for anything more than my looks and body."

There was a heavy and upsetting silence in the room, Ron and Ceasar sitting on opposite sides of the room. It seemed like an eternity before surprisingly, Ron broke the silence.

"You used a bomb that you hand crafted. You spent forever making the atoms yourself with engineering, And before that you used the lower lives to test everything out with-"

"Okay stop, I get it you really did listen. Doesnt prove shit."

"...Listen, I'm sorry your entire stay in hell was so horrible. If it was in my jurisdiction you'd of been put into a nice little condo and be given all you needed to survive-"

"What, In exchange for-"

"STOP! I'm tired of you interrupting me! I haven't said anything wrong or shitty to you so why do you keep getting so defensive and angry at me? I didn't trap us in this fucking box and I didn't do any of that shit to you!"

Ceasar seemed a bit taken aback at the sudden snapping, But Ron was right. He didn't do anything to provoke or try to hurt Ceasar at all, It was unfair for Ceasar to take the bad situation out on him. After all, Ron was in the same situation. The silence took over again before Ron once again surprisingly took initiative and stood. He walked to Ceasar and offered him a hand to help him stand.

"Look I'm.. I'm sorry if I upset you, I didn't mean to.. Your the coolest person like, EVER, And I guess seeing that your not the screen I'm used to seeing made me.. Upset, Snappy. In reality your just a person, Like me."

Ceasar was a bit surprised. Ron hadn't even done anything wrong, Yet he apologized anyways. Ceasar decided to take advantage of not having to say sorry and just nodded.

"It's fine, I get it. Thanks for the apology.. It takes a good man to admit when hes wrong."

Ron sighed and nodded, Pulling Ceasar to his feet. They didn't really know what to do now, Until some things were teleported in.. A few board games. Ceasar set them up and they started to play, Chatting as they did.

"You know, I've always admired you. You seemed to be the only sane king you know? Especially compared to.. Well, The candy king. Bob or whatever.. He's like insane. He thinks we can survive with the humans and work together, You know their rightful place is in our stomachs as food."

"I'm glad you think so! I know I'm the best one out there, But it's nice to hear it. Especially from you, Hahah.."

As they both went to grab the dice their hands touched for a second, Their eyes locking together before Ron moved away flusterdly.

"S-Sorry uhh its y-your turn anyways-"

Ron's face was red with a blush, And Ceasars had a slight tint as well. Ron's strange politeness and apologetic attitude really sparked something inside of Ceasar, But he wouldn't admit it. Not yet, At least. He rolled the dice and they played in a crushy yet comfortable silence for a while. Somehow the feelings were developing quicker than if they had met in the real world, Little did they know it was from the mysterious gas slowly pouring into the room... an experimental gas they labeled as 'CUPID-X2', Meant to make people like eachother and fall inlove much quicker than usual. The feelings would have developed anyways, It was just to quicken the process.

"You know Ron.. Your kinda cute."

Ceasar had a devilish little smirk, Trying to get a reaction from him. It definitely worked, Since Ron started to stutter and stumble over words. Ceasar climbed over the board and kissed him on the cheek, Chuckling to himself a bit.

Slight nsfw under cut, Mostly just feeling eachother up over clothes and rubbing under eachothers shirts

Ron leaned down and kissed Ceasar on the lips in retaliation for the kiss on the cheek, His hands trailing to his shirt. Ceasar jumped and pushed away from Ron, And he quickly stopped.

"I-I'm sorry I shouldn't of-"

"It's.. It's not you I'm sorry It's...I'm sorry I'm not.. Ready for that.."

Ron understood and kept his hands to himself.

"Would you.. Be more comfortable if I don't touch you? If you touched me instead..? It's fine if not I just want to make sure your-"

"I-I think I can do that."

Ceasar gently rubbed his hands over Ron's full body suit, Massaging over his surprisingly muscular chest. He sat on top of his stomach as he gently traced over him, Ron tried to quiet his breaths, Getting a bit excited just from the light touches.. Ceasar leaned down and gently kissed his neck, Wrapping his arms around him before leaning down and laying his head onto Ron's chest.

"..If.. You want to.. I-I think I'm okay with you touching me, A-As long as you.. Don't go inside.."

Ron nodded before gently cupping his ass with a gentle squeeze, Causing Ceasar to bury his head deeper into Ron's chest with a whimper. He traced along his sides before making his way to his shirt, Slipping his hands under and rubbing his chest gently tracing his abs. Ceasar could feel himself getting a bit hard, And as Ron started to pull away Ceasar whimpered a bit again.

"N-No don't stop yet- Please..?"

"I.. O-Okay."

He traced his hands down to his thighs before grazing Ceasar's crotch gently with his thumbs. His member twitched excitedly. Ceasar gently grabbed Ron's hand and started to lead it into his pants, Ron quickly yet gently pulled his hand away.

"..No, I know you.. M-Might feel different now but I don't want you to make a mistake with me.."

Ceasar was about to argue, But decided it'd be better not to. He closed his eyes and gently fell asleep on Ron's chest, A door out of the room opening as they slept

[jordluna]

Meeting Clint Barton

Natasha x daughter!reader

You weren't one to mention the beginning of your childhood. Up until the age of six, you never played on the playground, had play dates with friends, or went to school. In fact the closes thing you had to that was the education they gave you in the red room. The only normal thing you would ever have was having a mother.

"Why do we have to go again?" You ask Natalia as she loads a whole lot of guns and other various weapons into a duffle bag. The two of you were currently going to a mission. The location happened too be in the United States. Luckily for you English was your second language so you and Natasha fit in like a mother daughter duo there just perfectly.

"You know why Y/n. It's either complete the mission or be killed. Do you want to die?" Natalia  asks a little to harshly then what she meant but she needed to make sure you knew that this was no joke. You quickly nodded your head.

You were created by the red room during the graduation ceremony. Madame B had been telling her ever since she was a little girl that she would never be able to have kids after that. She should have known it was all a lie.

Natalia and you were not at all close back then. You can thank Madame B and the other instructors for that. You knew she was your mother by the obvious resemblance. Still your small self couldn't wrap around the fact that she was your mother. Neither could she. Everyone knew the Black Widow was not in any way mother material. Or so everyone thought.

Madame B quickly opened the door as your mother zipped the duffle bag. You stood behind her carrying your small suitcase.

"The plane taking you to your location will be departing soon. Better hurry up."

"Yes Madame." Natalia said.

*****

You've been on a couple of missions with your mother before but never one in America. Washington D.C. to be more specific. The red room always thought it would be a good idea for you and Natalia to be somewhat murderous partners. The cold hearted assassin and her daughter.

What everyone didn't know was Natalia wasn't as cold hearted as people thought. This also included you. She did have a weakness and that was her love for you. All though she never really showed it, she did care deeply for you. She wished that she could give you both a better life together. Where you could have friends, go to school, have a loving home. She's even dreamed about it before.

Natalia knew though that those things would most likely never come true. You both were going to be stuck in this hell hole that you couldn't escape.

Once you two landed you guys almost immediately went to work. The two of you side by side would take down whatever of the red rooms enemy's. Although you could kick anyone's ass you were still six and some people were still to strong and experienced for you.

After a couple of days when you finished the mission Natasha wanted to get you something nice. You were a little surprised when she took you to the nearest park not expecting it at all. She watched you very carefully as you try the new play equipment for the first time.  Natalia wouldn't know what she would do if something happened to you  when she wasn't watching.

What surprised both of you is that you were able to make a couple of friends around your age there also. When they first approached you, you were almost ready to attack them if they stepped a few feet closer. However they asked you if you wanted to play a game called tag with them, which you happily agreed with. They explained the rules and you had a blast with them. Your mother enjoyed seeing you act like a normal six year old for once.

When she took you back to the abandoned warehouse you two were currently staying at, you told her how much fun you had. She smiled while nodding on as you told her how you felt so fast as they chased you around the playground and the joy mixed with excitement. You both wished deeply you could experience this moment again.

"Natalia, when do we have to go back to Russia?" You asked, with a deflated look across your face. She gave you a sad smile while rubbing your back, something she has never done before.

"We have to leave tomorrow morning. I wish we could stay and go to the park again though." You just agree with her knowing there was nothing else you could do.

"I will be back in an hour." Natasha says to you. You nod and wait for her to return. What you didn't know was Natasha was on her way to buy you a stuffed teddy bear. Something that you've never had before. She went to the nearest shop and even though she barely had anymore American cash she was able to buy you the teddy bear.

*****

"You got eyes on the prize Barton?" Fury says into Clint's ear piece.

"Damn right I do." Clint repeats back, as he stands on a buildings roof close to the shop your mother was in. Shield had sent him to go assassinate the famous Black Widow. He had immediately recognized the vibrant red hair, he had only seen in a few photos when she walked in.

"To many civilizations. I can't kill her just yet Fury. Are you even sure this is the right Black Widow we want to kill? She looks like she in her early twenties. How deadly can she be?" Clint says noticing Natalia's young features and sweet fake smile she gives the cashier.

"Clint Barton this woman is credited with almost 2,000 assassinations. Trust me, this is her. and finish the target needs to be killed before she can hurt anyone one else."

"Copy that Fury. I will kill her when she's in her hideout." Clint says. He looks through his binoculars again, and sees something interesting. The widow with a teddy bear in her hands? No it can't be. He pushes the thought of who it might be for out of his mind as follows Natalia from a far.

When Natalia comes back into the warehouse she's met with your saddened face awaiting to be talked back to that terrible home. Your smile comes back when she sees what she's holding in her hands.

"Is that a teddy bear?" You ask her hoping it is meant for you.

"Yes it is Y/n." she says kneeling to your level lifting her hand up to give you the bear. She sees your smile light up even more as you hug the teddy bear tightly. "I'm sure there's a way we can hide it from the rest of the red room."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you Natalia!" You say with joy, which makes Natasha give a smile. The first one that's not fake.

"Your welcome." She puts her hand slowly on your shoulder as a small sign of affection. However it means the world to both of you having to grow up to show no emotion unless it has to be plastered on.

You and Natalia's sweet moment though is interrupted by a bow zooming into the warehouse. It lands on the ground but your eyes grow wide to the bright red flashing light, with numbers slowly going down.

Before you can process what's happening your mother grabs you and uses her body as a shield while a loud bast fills the room and you two are crushed by rubble.

"Mama!" You scream in your terrified state. The smell of smoke fills your lugs as Natasha gripes her arms tighter around your body, afraid that if she let you go, something terrible will happen. You obviously hadn't meant at that moment to call her mama but she wasn't mad at all. It was in fact one of the best feelings she's felt in a long time.

"It's okay baby, I'm here, I'm right here." You immediately start to feel more safe as you hug your mother tighter.

As Clint watches the explosion happens he hopes that he's completed the mission. He knows that it was a quick death. Probably better than she deserved. He hisses as he sees rubble move from underneath the ruins of the warehouse.

"Shit." He whispers.

"You just had to make this more difficult." Fury says knowing exactly that he hadn't necessarily finished his work.

"Guess this is going to be a little trickier than I thought."

You and Natalia both pushed the last piece of rubble blocking you from the night sky. You took a deep breathe of the air and looked around to see your surrounding everything was on fire. All your clothes they gave you and the spare food. All you had left was your gun, the teddy bear, and your mom.

"Y/n!" Natalia screams while grabbing you forcefully again and pulling you into her arms. An arrow almost slices through your skin but misses as you move swiftly. You can feel the overbearing weight on your chest get tighter. "Y/n you have to listen to me. You have to run far away to the woods near here alright? I will come get you as soon as I can."

"No Natalia, I can help you fight the arrow guy! I don't want to leave without you." You say as tears well up in your eyes terrified of loosing her.

"I know you do, but I don't want you to get hurt baby. Whatever happened to calling me mama?" Natalia said hurt that moment would only last for a second.

"You like it? I thought you would be mad at me."

"I'm not Y/n. Now please go!" She says hearing more explosions coming from near by.

"I love you." You say as the tears finally roll down.

"I love you too. I love you so much." Natalia says raising her hand to your cheek.

You start running as fast as you can and take one last look at her before going off into the woods.

*****

As Hawkeye wonders around the ruins of the warehouse he has his bow already ready waiting to see if his target had been killed already. He takes one more step but feels the cool metal pressed behind his head.

"Hawkeye." The Black Widow snarls angrily at the man.

"Widow." He repeats.

"So here to kill me I see. Sorry to tell you but your mission isn't going to be fulfilled today."

"I doubt that." Just then he takes his bow and strikes your mother in the thigh forcefully making her groan but nothing more. She aims a punch in his gut that is affective and uses her legs and wraps them around his neck. She throws him to the ground but he somehow manages to use her strength against her and pins her down.

"I think your mission to live long isn't gonna be fulfilled." Clint says as Natalia tries to escape but Clint has a firm grip.

"I will make it a quick death." Clint says aiming an arrow at your mother.

Just then he hears the sound of a gun being fired but no ammunition comes out. He looks to the sound and sees you holding a unloaded gun shaking vigorously at him. He notices the grimy teddy bear your holding in your other hand.

"You brought a child to the scene Widow?" Natalia looked at you and practically motioned for you to run off before you would meet your death also. Or worse witness hers. However you just stood there dumbfounded knowing if you made one wrong move your mother would have an arrow through her skull.

"Leave baby, please leave for me!" She yells in Russian.

"I'd rather die trying to be with you again mama." You say to her. You see the fear in her eyes then look to Clint. He doesn't understand Russian but was now putting the pieces together that the Black Widow has a child.

"She's got a kid." Clint says in his ear piece.

"That's not possible. There are no records of the deadly assassin bearing or with a child." Fury says back.

"Well she does. A little one. Probably no more than 7." Clint looks at Natalia then you.

"No! Don't hurt her! Spare her life I'm the one you want dead!" Natasha begs from her position on the ground.

"How about you two come with me?" Clint asks confusing everyone.

"What the hell did you just say?" Fury questions angrily. Clint though just ignores him.

"Wha.. what? Natasha says.

"Come to Shield where I work at. I'm giving you this opportunity because I've been in your place before. People can change. You can change."

"I don't know about this... You did try to shoot my daughter with your arrows." You give in a little smile.

"Mama, I don't want to go back to the red room. I wanna stay in America with Shield!" You squeal excitedly.

"My name's Clint." He says while extending his arm to help your mother up.

"I'm Natalia, but that will have to soon change I guess. This little one right here is my daughter."

"Hi, Clint I'm Y/n." You say shyly hiding behind your mothers back. She however nudges you forward gently to get you to come out and shake his hand.

"I'm not sure where you're going at Barton but oh well." Fury says.

May have a part 2!

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 01 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 3K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

Next part (02) ->

{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Opportunity:

Your mind can't help but wonder what will happen next. Where they're taking you. In your state, half-dead, you feel they pushing you on a hospital stretcher. It's a sick pleasure of theirs, to numb you, yet allow you to understand what's going on around you. It's supposed to be part of their torture, as if they could scare you. They can't. The pain they inflict don't reach you anymore, you're beyond that. It's hard to breathe like there's a pressure on your chest, and you feel the fog that threatens to overcome your mind.

“I can't believe we're doing this.” A distracted, dull voice says. They're hovering over you, you're sure, a smile on their faces. These people aren't better than you, you concluded. They're all villains too, only backed up by their position and by the civilians who would never condemn them for hurting people like you.

“I don't like it either, but the orders came from above.”

It must be nasty if they don't like it. You wish you could move, you wish you could blow the fog away and get up. Then you'd crush their skulls on this stretcher and run. But you're motionless, completely vulnerable to your personal monsters. They enjoy seeing you like this, all of you actually, often saying they're job is to make you pay for everything you did. And many of the villains locked up in here paid for it a hundred times over.

“Don't worry, Mark. She will be back with us in no time. A slut like this wouldn't recognize a good opportunity like this even if fell from the sky.”

Opportunity. What kind of opportunity? You've been waiting a year for an opportunity to flee this place. Belle Reve is hell on Earth, the only prison you can't seem to overcome.

“Put the whore in the ship and fly this damn girl away.”

A fist connects to your stomach, and you feel your body moving, jerking up and falling back to the bed. The pain, hot and rough, spreads through your ribs. It happens three times over, and the blows come from different directions. You know why they like to do this when you're in this state. Because they know that, if you were awake, they'd regret it. They know you'd beat them so bad they'd swallow their pride and apologize. You're burning up, trying to make your body respond to the commands, but it's useless.

“Put her to sleep now. Higher her dose.”

You feel a needle in your neck, and slowly, you sink, to the back of your mind. Bracing yourself for whatever comes next, you decided to enjoy as the world ceases to exist, at least for a while.

•

The journey back to consciousness is like climbing an invisible ladder. The first thing you realize is that you can breathe without any restraint, which is always a good sign. Before opening your eyes, you make sure you can move your body. You start with your feet, then the legs, torso... Then your hands... Your hands are tied together, lied on your stomach. But you seem to be functional. Big mistake. Finally, you open your eyes, finding a white ceiling above. No place in Belle Reve has a white ceiling like this. Checking the surroundings, you find yourself completely alone in a bedroom. A normal bedroom, you suppose. The bed you're in is a king-sized bed. Two nightstands, a wardrobe, a dresser, two armchairs. Two windows on the left side, a door on the wall before you and another on the right. One of them must a bathroom. Bathrooms have mirrors and boxes, made of glass, which you can break and use as a weapon.

You wonder what kind of game is this. What new kind of torture they came up with. Make you believe you're somewhere better, safe, and then attack you all over again? They can't believe you'd fall for that. Not you. Sitting up, your eyes are focused on the windows. That man said that is was an opportunity. And you can use any kind of opportunity. Ignoring the handcuffs around your wrists, you get up in a single motion, using the nightstand to support your weight when the whole world spins around. Regaining your balance, you go to the windows, pushing the curtains away. And you find bars. Just a minor inconvenience.

Outside, what you see isn't the familiar desolation of Belle Rave surroundings. Despite the darkness, you can see a garden, grass, and high walls. On the corner, almost out of sight, you see tables and a pool. What kind of place is this?

A noise on the door makes you turn on your heels, full alert. There's nothing you can use to defend yourself, so you'll have to count on your bare hands. Your eyes fall on the handcuffs and a desperate feeling builds up. You start pulling, violently, trying to set free. You feel as the metal starts ripping the skin, reopening old wounds. Twisting your wrists, you try to at least separate your hands, but the metal doesn't surrender.

The door is open and you're forced to look up, hands ready to put up a fight. Your whole body is burning as if anticipating the war you're about to start.

“Miss (Y/N) Quinzel.” The man starts, not seeming to be surprised at all. He's tall, muscular, wearing a suit and tie. “Please, sit.”

“You bought me, didn't you?” It hits you all of a sudden, and a smile comes to your lips. They sold you away like an animal, how original. A good way to get rid of you, you must admit, but unlike they think, you can recognize an opportunity. Allowing you out of Belle Reve was a huge mistake.

“No, I didn't buy you.” The man casually walks over one of the armchairs, gesturing at the other one after taking a seat.

“It doesn't matter.” You stand there, eyes alert, watching his every move. You're also aware of the door, left unlocked.

“I'm here to explain what you're doing here. Where you are and why.” You're not listening, you're thinking. If you move through the bed, you can get to the door before he even knows what's happening. You're small, which makes you fast. If you jump from the bed to the ground in your run, you'll land right by the door. Once you're out, all you gotta do is keep running. He won't be able to reach you. Muscles are heavy, and this man has many. He's slow.

“Do you think I care?” You ask, waiting for his eyes to leave you, just for a second. You just need a second.

“No, you don't.” Lowering your hands a little bit, you notice how his eyes fall on it. On the blood flowing out.

That's when you move. You step on the bed, following your plan strictly. You jump to the floor, opening the door and fleeing. It doesn't matter where you're going, you just need to keep moving. You hear his footsteps behind you, and it brings a smile to your lips. It's been a while since you had a chance to do something like this. The adrenaline, the rush is as good as you remember. Stumbling downstairs, your eyes find a hall, and that's where you go. The wind messes with your hair, fresh as freedom. You find a door, which is locked, but it doesn't slow you down, you soon start moving again. You reach a kitchen, huge, and your sharp eyes find a knife and you move to grab it. The next thing you notice is a window, with no bars. The man's footsteps fill your ears as you climb up the sink, opening the window and sliding through it, hitting the ground hard on the other side.

Being outside is unbelievable. The fresh wind, the dark sky above. When we the last time you've been outside? You can't remember. Move, you tell yourself. Holding the knife tight with both your hands, you start running again, your barefoot feet hurting on the rocks. You soon see the gates. If you cross it, you're free. You'll be back in the streets, home. Just one last set of bars to overcome. Once you reach it, you drop the knife, holding onto the cold, black metal bars. Your head hurts, and you're a little dizzy, but that's nothing you can't deal with.

Taking a deep breath and biting back a smile, you look forward, to the other side, and start climbing. You don't even process what you're doing. It doesn't matter how tall, how hard will be the fall, you'll do this.

Pulling yourself up, a laugh escapes your lips. They thought they could keep you imprisoned forever. They don't know you, they don't know what you're capable of.

A strong arm encircles your waist and you're pulled back. All air leaves your lungs, but you immediately recognize the enemy. You shouldn't have dropped the knife. The man throws you over his shoulder, and you're quick to attack his back. Using hands and elbows, you punch him, again and again, but he doesn't seem to care. His grip on your thighs grows stronger as your assault on his back gets worse. He's carrying you back to the house, and when he crosses the front door, you kick him hard on the stomach. He flinches a little, which makes you smile and kick him once again, harder this time. The man loses his balance, and you take the chance to push him aside and fall to the floor.

There's no time to take in the pain, you have to move. You're pulled back into his grip, his hand grabbing your ankle. You kick him, not sure where, but a groan leaves his mouth. You must admit you admire his strength. Your guards use to be knocked out very easily.

“Stop it.” He commands, and you smile through the fight. He pulls you up again, over the shoulder. As he tries to climb up the stairs, you push, kick and punch, and he falls a few times, but manages to get you back into the room.

“Put me the hell down!” You yell, sliding down and punching his face.

“Damn it.” He angrily mutters, holding both your wrists. The man uses his weight to push you to the armchair, using his body to keep you there. You fight and scream, hurting him any way you can.

You then feel ropes around you, tight against your chest and stomach. When he stands up again, a bleeding lip, you can't move, it doesn't matter how hard you try. The man touches his lip before going away, closing the door violently.

“I'm sending her back to Belle Reve.” He tells someone, saying something else you can't hear.

‘A slut like this wouldn't recognize a good opportunity like this even if fell from the sky.’ That man's voice comes back to your mind, filled with disgust. You can't let him be right. You can't let this opportunity pass. If you're sent back, you'll prove to him right. No. You have to think before acting, you need to stay here. You almost succeed today. In one year at Belle Reve, you never got anywhere close. Here, you have a chance.

Two hours later, the man is back. He doesn't seem to be angry, just a little mad. Annoyed. You keep your mouth shut, watching as he takes a deep breath and sits on the armchair set in front of you.

“Are you done fighting? And yelling?” He asks, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Are you sending me back to Belle Reve?” It's the only thing you care about.

“No. Not yet.”

“Who are you?” You're struggling with the want to try to set free, to break the handcuffs, to rip the ropes, but you have to control yourself.

“I'm Bruce Wayne. The Batman.”

“You're going to kill me.” You burst out, a particularly loud laugh escaping your lips and bouncing through the walls. The only reason why Batman would tell you his secret identity is because he plans to kill you. “How much did they pay you? Or how much did you pay them?” You manage to say when you finally stop laughing.

“I'm not planning to kill you. I want to rehabilitate you.”

This makes you laugh even more, ignoring how serious he is. He gotta be kidding. “That's a good joke, I must say.”

“Are you done?”

“Are you done, Bruce Wayne?” You stop laughing, looking at him, dead serious. “Because as much as I enjoy a good joke, I need to know why the hell am I here.”

“It's not a joke. I want to prove a point. I want to show people that villains, as they call those like you, can still be brought back to society. Fully recovered. Not everyone, but some might still have a chance.” Bruce's eyes fall on your wrists. The blood is dry, staining the skin.

“You picked the wrong villain, Bruce Wayne. I assure you I don't belong to the group that can be... Rehabilitated.”

“I'm the one who decides that, not you.” Bruce get up to his feet, coming to stand before you, then kneeling. He takes your hands, moving the handcuffs a little to reveal the wounded skin underneath. “I can remove these and clean the injury if you promise not to try anything.”

“I could kick you right in the head,” you tell him, a smirk on your face. “So damn hard you'd pass out and I'd be free to go.”

“If you could do that, you wouldn't announce it.” He stands up again. “I'll be right back.”

You watch as Bruce leaves the room, locking the door. Is it true? Does Batman really want to rehabilitate a villain? You already bumped into the Dark Knight a few times, but managed to run. Now, you're his prisoner. This can't be worse than Belle Reve though, you hope. He comes back minutes later, with a box. Laying it on the bed, you watch his every move. It's something like a first aid kit. He really meant that when he said he would clean the lesion.

“You don't have to attend to my wounds. This is how it works: the blood is washed away in the bath, and the wound is left to heal by itself.” Speaking slow, you explain him how they do things in Belle Reve. A doctor is only called when someone tries to commit suicide. Other than that, your bodies are left to deal alone with any injury.

Bruce doesn't answer. He searches for something in the nightstand behind you, and when he comes back into your sight, he ties up your legs, ankles and knees. “Seriously? Don't you think I've-” You bite your tongue when he pulls your wrists through the handcuffs, causing a sharp pain to spread through the lacerated skin. “That was unnecessary.”

Silently, he opens the handcuffs and you suddenly feel relieved. You feel freer now, even though you're all tied up. You watch as Bruce carefully cleans the wound, wrapping a bandage around your wrists. It's curious to see someone doing such a thing. Before Belle Reve, you had to tell those who worked for you to patch you up. It was always fast, and painful because you just wanted it to be over so you could get along with your things. Then, in that hell... Not even that.

“I will leave you to rest,” Bruce says when he's done, closing the box. “There is soap on the bathroom for you, shampoo, and hair conditioner, as well as all the personal things you'll need. If you believe you need anything else, let me know.”

“Is that your plan? To just leave me here? You really think this will change who I am?”

“You don't know what my plan is.” He makes a pause, looking down at you. “I will untie you now. If you try to run, I will knock you down, and I don't care if you're a girl.”

“Woman.” You correct him, smiling. “And I'm not scared of you, I don't care if you're huge.”

Bruce stands there, thinking. Wondering if you'll run again. But you won't. If you do, he will definitely throw you back in that hole. Taking a deep breath, Bruce kneels down again, untying your legs. He then moves to stand behind you. and the ropes fall loose. You feel his eyes on you, paying attention, but you don't move.

“I'll come back to see you tomorrow.” That said, he leaves.

It takes a while until you finally move, getting up from the chair. Everything you need is Bruce to put down his guard, to trust you just a little bit. An opening, it's everything you need.

Ignoring the ropes laying around your feet, you move to the bathroom. As soon as you open the door, you remember the showers in Belle Reve. How you hugged your knees on the cold concrete floor, under the assault of the high-pressure water as someone held the hose. This is different. Walking around, you notice the small pile of clothes on the sink. A white shirt, light gray sweatpants, and underwear. You notice the white towels, the hairdryer... Taking your clothes off, you step into the box, opening the warm water and letting it soak your body.

You let it all go for a moment, enjoying what a normal shower feels like. You don't need to hide your naked body, the water isn't too cold or too hot, it's perfect, gentle on your skin. You take your time, washing Belle Reve off. You wash your hair too, smiling to smell the strawberry scent from the hair conditioner. Your lilac hair has brown roots for the entire year you spent in prison.

The bathroom is filled with smoke when you step out of the box, drying yourself and putting the clothes on. Staring at the mirror, you wonder when was the last time you saw your face. You look the same, and your not sure if that's good or bad. After drying your hair, you find a brush and starts detangling it.

Going back to bed, you imagine how good it might be to have a life like this every day. Clean clothes, soap, warm water. But that's not your life. Your life is on the streets, underground, beneath an old mall long destroyed. There lies your riches, your money, your things. That's where you belong, where you need to go back to. And you will. Batman won't stop you.

×

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony

[rex101111]

Well, since Warriors Orochi 3 is a thing... Baiken happens to meet someone much, much more important than that asswipe Orochi.

Ryu Hayabusa. (No, seriously! He was in Warriors Orochi 3!) The Legendary Dragon Ninja. Despite being less talkative than most, he has his shit together mentally better than almost anyone else. Seamless teamwork at the drop of a hat. Even her duels with him make her sweat because unlike Lu Bu, who only gives Baiken trouble with sheer strength, he's all skill and as silent as death.

And likewise, despite fighting hordes of fiends, Greater Fiends with power over the elements and Orochi himself, Ryu finds that this amputated warrior proves to be his greatest equal in skill and willpower, barely surviving Baiken's fatal blows. Even his frankly absurd number of weapons can't so much as put a dent in Baiken's sword.

(WO3 is my fave warriors game and Ryu was my MAN in that game hell yeah)

Ryu's arms ache, his body is drained of energy, and his heart pounds in his chest. In most cases, that would mean he is seconds away from death, but that wasn't the case. He was instead at the other end of an especially difficult duel with an exceptional warrior.

"This is rich coming from me," Baiken pants as she uses her sword as a crutch to keep from falling over, "but where the hell are you keeping all those weapons?"

Ryu, down on one knee and panting heavily himself, simply meets her gaze and tilts his head to one side slightly.

"Right," Baiken snorts, allowing herself to fall on her rear end with a grunt, "Ninja, of course, never fucking mind."

He raises an eyebrow at her, "you have experience?" It would certainly explain why his limbs are screaming at him.

She snorts again with a cackle, "sort of, he's a bit of a poser, but he's got the speed for it at least." She looks at him with a raised eyebrow of her own, "how about you? I'm guessing you've had your fair share of fights with Samurai."

"Demon Samurai," Ryu corrects, slowly lowering himself into a lotus position, "and occasionally ghost Samurai, but yes."

She blinks at him, "huh," she scratches her head, "should have guessed you have experience with monsters, those weapons weren't made to be used on people."

Ryu is silent for a moment, before shaking his head, "no, not ideally." He looks her over again, committing to memory every scar he could see and guessing at all the scars he couldn't, together with the memory of the strength behind every single strike she nearly landed on him, he comes to an easy conclusion, "you too, have had your fair share of battles with monsters."

They share a look of understanding, silent as the nearby camp bustles with the noises of the group drinking and partying.

"Come one then, monster hunter." Baiken drawls, slowly getting back to her feet, "that's enough trying to kill each other for one day." She turns her back to him and begins walking towards the camp, "we have a snake to catch."

A smirk hidden beneath his mask, Ryu nods, "indeed we do."

[lvlyhao]

「PART TWO: FEAR」

HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K

A/N: took me long enough to post, I know, but thank you to that last anon for reminding me of the series lol with school i tend to forget what i have and haven’t posted but i’ll do better from now on. i hope you like this :)

important: this chapter includes mentions of vomiting and though i’ve already put a warning for violence and gore in the masterlist, i’m saying it again: please don’t read this if you are not okay with that!!!!

word count: 2.1K

pairing: qian kun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

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“I’m heading out”, your hands fondly squeeze Taeyong’s shoulders from behind him. He does not look up from his task for a few seconds, counting rolls of gauze. Then, upon processing your words, he twirls to face you. His eyes trail up and down your figure, making a mental checklist of everything you need to be safe. Apparently, one thing is missing.

“Take Jaehyun with you”, he asks, “or maybe Yuta. Johnny is always good to have around, and so is Renjun. Those swords of his are no joke”, he rambles, losing focus. The way he places his hands on his hips and sighs tells you he’s absolutely drained. “Or maybe I should go with you—”

Shaking your head fervently, you pat his cheek for his attention, observing the streaks of noon sunlight across his face. He stares at you with concern and shifts his weight.

“You’re staying right here and so are the boys, Tyong. We haven’t found a survivor in weeks, and taking one of them is always more stressful than anything”, you reason. Recollections of how the boys attract trouble wherever they go cloud your mind, far too many to count. The air suddenly feels too chilly, with shivers running down your spine. 

“Just stay here and maybe find a way to rest. You know Doyoung won’t mind keeping track of the supply for you.”

At this point, he knows it’s no use arguing. 

“Just be careful… and get back before dawn”, he adjusts the collar of your jacket, thinking back to the weather outside of the grey walls of the dorms. “All I’m saying is you never know what you’re gonna find.” Giving you a tight-lipped smile and a nod, he resumes his job, and you leave him. Headed to the heavily locked iron doors guarded by the towering figures of Shotaro and Sungchan, you ask yourself if there was any hidden depth to Taeyong's words.

“You never know what you’re gonna find, huh", you mutter.

Now, roaming the deserted streets on your own and basking in the orange glow of the afternoon, you just think he was wrong. 

It’s already been a couple of hours since you left: you’ve explored parts of the district you barely even knew before the virus, seeing all kinds of animals scurrying around your path. You’ve also eaten the rice balls Jaemin packed for you, and you’ve gawked at the decaying building that used to be your favourite theatre. It’s all the same as you imagined it would be. Not many walkers litter this part of town—just 7 or 8 you managed to avoid—and no people. No one worth rescuing.

Wandering like this, in silence, brings back memories you're not sure you like. Weekly game nights with your friends, attending Jisung’s dance presentations, playing in the park’s playground at night... All of those feel foreign to you, parts of life too good to have ever been yours. Still, the need for a shot of wistfulness takes over, and you sigh. Better now than when it gets late, then. With a shake of your head, you pick a destination and start moving.

You’re conscious of your surroundings as you keep one hand on the bow and make your way across the square. Dry, fiery leaves crunch under your boots, being the only sound you pick up. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, either. The same old abandoned stores seem to look down at you, their busted windows moaning in the wind. But, right then, something jabs at your gut. It's a silent alert to a threat you can't see. 

Damnit. You better pick up the pace.

As soon as you make a turn to the left, spying the pizza place you used to visit, you freeze. Walkers, maybe 10 of them, whimper and try to get past the debris to reach something inside a pharmacy.

How could you not notice them earlier? They’re not a quiet horde, and the awful stench is not something you should have missed either. Have you been that lost in your nostalgia?

Whatever happened, you don't have much time. If the undead are making that much effort to get around the rubble, there has to be someone inside. A fellow human being—hopefully, a nice one. Someone you can help.

Acting out of instincts, you drink in your surroundings. Having your back hastily pressed against a tree trunk is not ideal, but it's what comes to you. While you can't call yourself a strategy master, jumping right into action is not the right plan when someone else's life is in danger. 

Mind racing, you know you need a better shooting spot now if you want to make a move. Drawing them out to an alley is not a totally bad idea either. They wouldn't be able to escape, and maybe then they could flee.

As soon as you found a perfect corner for that, the screech of old door hinges catches your attention. A second later, shattering glass.

Shit. They broke in.

With no more time to assess the situation, you quickly climb up a rotting picnic table. The zombies, some missing a limb, slowly drag their feet towards a man in a plaid, blue shirt. 

He's petrified, head lashing from side to side, looking for a way out. You know very well there is none, and soon enough it will be too late. He’ll be just at reach for those disgusting, putrid fingers. If they get a bite in, it's over for you, and it's over for him.

That’s when you take the stupidest decision of your life.

Screaming.

“YO, YOU POINTLESS MEAT SACK! WHY DON’T YOU LOOK OVER HERE?”

The boy might just get whiplash from how fast his eyes find yours. His are dark and desperate, but there is something else to them—to him. Something you will never find it in you to explain. 

It could have been the way the stares right at your soul, or how his face displays every emotion from relief to terror. You could even say it was how his knees buckled under his weight or his fluttering hair in the wind. You can blame your reaction on a lot of things, but none of them startles you as much as yourself. 

A cold hand grasps at your heart, squeezing it tightly in your chest. Blood drains from your face, and your frame shakes in the wind. You know this sensation all too well to have doubts, although it is what you swore never to feel again. Fear. Not for yourself, no, even when the undead start walking towards you instead. You don't—can't— care enough about your life, and you know it. It is all for him, the beautiful stranger you are going to save.

The first two arrows find their aim, speeding right through the undead’s skulls, but something shifts in your arms. The rest of your arrows now seem to swerve a bit to the sides, lodging themselves on necks or shoulders. In other words, not where they are supposed to. 

Oh, how much you hate that the walkers will only die if you damage their brains.

“Annoying bastards, I swear—”

Falling into a state of near panic, you drop to the floor unceremoniously and race to the horde. If your bow won't do the trick, your other weapons will.

Momentarily thankful for their lack of agility, you pull out the knives hidden on the sides of your shoes. In a flurry of drive, you slash and stab everything around you. While throwing some hand-to-hand-combat here and there, your eyes start to burn. The walkers smell even worse from up close, you bitterly recall from past encounters. It's one of the things that make fighting harder—the urge to run away from them at every second.

The more daring among them clutch at your clothes, keeping your movement limited, but you manage to cut off their hands. The slick sound it makes is enough to make bile rise up your throat, but you swallow it back.

“C’mon, Y/N”, you pant, kicking what had once been an adult woman in the chest to send her down to the asphalt. “You’ve had tougher battles than this." With a breath as deep as you can manage, your knife cuts at another zombie.

It is true, you know. It's impossible to count the times you’ve been up against groups of 20 or more. You were always fine. Right now, though, wincing from multiple wounds scattered around your skin, you question how the hell did you do it.

Hurriedly glancing to your right, you notice 5 are already dead—well, dead-er than they had previously been. The lady you kicked struggles to get up, giving you a gap to spin and bury your knife into her scalp. She goes limp right away, and you stare. 4 more to go.

Just as you retrieve your blade and turn to face the other walkers, something bites your dominant hand. Hard.

With your knife tumbling down in a metallic clunk, fire shoots up your arm. The first thing you do is wiggle your hand back and forth. Some part of you thinks it was going to let go like it’s some sort of dog. You realize you were wrong when darkened saliva flows into the cuts, your mind going blank with agony.

You figure it was one of the undead you had pushed down before, only to lose sight of him later. And, yes, wiggling was a poor attempt at getting him to drop you, but you did it out of pure alarm. Fear is gradually taking over you now, freezing cold and impossible to fight.

With only your non-dominant hand free, you sloppily sink your blade down however many times it takes for the corpse to stop moving. The pain you feel is sharp, travelling through your veins like blue fire. As his grip slackens, the body slumps to the ground, a wet thud echoing. Despite the agony that threatens to blind you, you're aware of the other 3 walkers you have yet to take down.

One is easy enough, with an arrow embedded deep on one side of her neck, and another coming down on her brow bone. Repugnance swirls in your gut, and you have to look away. Their skulls are incredibly soft.

Your remaining enemies pace at either side of you, circling you with dead eyes and faltering strides. You keep your wounded hand close to you while the other clutches the leather grip of your weapon. It's time to put an end to this.

Choosing to go for the right first, you slash at his chest, grimacing at the black blood that oozes. It taints his shredded red hoodie and sprinkles at your front. The shudders that course through you in silent rage give you the strength to finish it off.

In one clean, powerful strike, your knife goes through an eyeball, but he collapses a bit too fast. You can't recover your blade.

Having no weapons on your hands, even for a second, is critical. The walkers are borderline sluggish, but it was easy to lose track of them: your severed hand was proof.

To your relief—or mild disgust—, hasty strides bounce at the pavement behind you, followed by heavy thuds on a slimy surface. It takes no more than 3 seconds for the last body to tumble by your feet, face down. 

It's only then you see the skull, or better, what is left of it. Blood and brain flow over a gaping crack, done by something sharp. You could guess it was the heavy, black rock that you find before you, held in the hands of the man you are supposed to be saving.

From there, you realize his medium length hair is a faded blue, with dark brown at the roots. A grey university hoodie hugs his slim figure under the plaids, matching his cargo pants and busted sneakers. His face is all sharp angles and soft edges, but his gaze is nothing short of magnetic.

Wide, chocolate eyes glare at the body with such horror your own throat tightens. Then, with no words shared, he lets go of the rock and stumbles back like he cannot believe what he did. Your own eyes divert to the cloudless sky, hearing him vomiting on the concrete in a matter of seconds. Poor dude.

Pity, combined with the reminiscents of adrenaline and dread, settle in you. Your thoughts boil down to one small detail: the Sun is setting.

The throbbing on your hand momentarily vanishes, lost in the memory of Taeyong very clearly telling you to be back before dawn. Aside from that, the memory of what you did to get the walkers' attention still burns at your mind. That goddamned shout. Having a sense of hearing as acute as they did, you are sure any other zombies around you are coming your way.

You have fucked up big time.

-------

final notes: ik chapter one wasn’t all that exciting but i’m hoping this one is better wheeze two more to come, stay tuned <3