#how she used to be just as cold and cruel and she just barely began softening uo when being shown care by the dummies

[fave-fix]

hey guys do we realize that the main difference betwen how kai and midori developed is that kai was given the chance to learn what normal life and love and family was like by working with chidouins while midori was kept under asunaros thumb all his life. do we realize that just a few changes could have kai acting just as cruel and merciless as midori. do we realize that midori is a victim of asunaro too, and though that doesn't excuse his actions it does make them more tragic. do we realize this or are we all being serious when we say midori is the only character who isn't worth redemption.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

(Y/n) Grayson, daughter of one of the greatest heroes, learns just how NOT invincible she is. Thrown back in time after her death, she must warn the Guardians of the Globe of the oncoming slaughter while she also battles her own monsters (both figuratively and literally). However, her father and brother begin to gain interest in her strange behavior, something (y/n) could rather do without.

(Y/n) Grayson,  the youngest member of the Grayson family, born to Nolan and Debbie Grayson, with your older brother, Mark, only three years your senior. Life growing up was idyllic in many ways—you had a loving father, mother, and brother who, at least for the first few years of your life, seemed completely normal. But you always knew something was different about your family, especially about your father and brother.

From an early age, you noticed how often your father would leave at odd hours, saying he was "called into work." When Mark turned 10, he and your dad started spending more time together, and they began excluding you from their bonding sessions. You were curious, but it wasn’t until your parents finally sat you down that you learned the truth: your father was Omni-Man, a powerful alien sent to protect Earth, and your brother had just started developing powers like his.

Excited by the revelation, you had a flood of questions—what it felt like to fly, whether you'd get powers, and what space was like. Though your father answered your questions kindly, the growing divide between you and your family was undeniable. Mark, once your geeky, lovable older brother, started to change. By the time you were 12 and he was 15, that change became frightening.

As Mark's powers grew stronger, so did his sense of superiority. He began referring to others as "humans" in a dismissive tone, something that deeply unsettled you. He no longer saw himself as part of the same species, despite being half-human. While he still had moments of warmth and humor with your family, outside of the home, Mark was becoming someone else—cold, calculating, and even cruel.

He rose in popularity at school thanks to his new powers, good looks, and charisma. He became the star athlete, using his power to brutalize opponents on the field, often injuring them far beyond what was acceptable, and then charming others to get out of trouble. One day, he came home covered in blood after beating a kid so badly that the other boy was left mangled and broken. Mark’s behavior was alarming, but what terrified you most was that your father approved of it. Omni-Man encouraged Mark’s aggressive dominance, much to your mother’s distress and your growing fear.

While Mark and your father’s relationship grew stronger, you felt more and more left out. Your own 10th birthday had passed, and your powers had yet to manifest. Nolan began spending less time with you, focusing on Mark's training, leaving you chasing the bond you once had with him. Debbie tried to bridge the gap, but you couldn’t help feeling the loss of both your father’s and brother’s attention.

The real turning point came when you were 12. One day after school, you were hanging out with your friends Hallie, Connor, and Weston in the reclusive meadow near your school. It was a peaceful, secluded spot until you were suddenly attacked by a strange creature—something none of you had ever seen before. It was monstrous, something straight out of the Dungeons & Dragons games you played. You barely managed to kill it, naming it a "Demogorgon" after the game. The four of you hid the body, terrified and confused.

You didn’t know what to tell your parents, but the scratches and bruises covering you were impossible to hide. Your father didn’t have time to deal with what seemed like childish nonsense, and the local law enforcement was baffled by the sudden attacks happening in your area. The creature you killed wasn’t a one-time event; strange attacks began occurring more frequently, leaving the community on edge. Still, your father was too occupied with his work for the government, and Mark was too wrapped up in his own world to help.

As time passed, it became painfully clear that your father was growing distant. You idolized him, but without powers of your own, it seemed like you were losing him. Mark, meanwhile, reveled in his strength, and with your father’s approval, his behavior became more dangerous and reckless. He started using his powers in more violent ways, and the line between heroism and cruelty began to blur for him. You watched your once-loving family dynamic twist into something darker.

Despite this, you chased after them both, desperate to stay close to the people you loved. You begged to join their training sessions, hoping that maybe your powers would eventually show. Yet, with each passing day, you felt the weight of their growing alienation. Mark was becoming someone you barely recognized—a far cry from the nerdy older brother who used to sneak you extra cookies at night and argue about comic book trivia.

Now, you and your friends are facing a looming threat from these mysterious creatures. The attacks are increasing, and no one seems able to stop them—not your father, not Mark, and not the authorities. As the danger mounts, you realize that you and your friends are the only ones who know the truth about the creatures. You’ll have to rely on each other to survive and solve the mystery behind these attacks.

Now at 15, your life had already turned into a living nightmare, but that year? That year, everything truly fell apart. You’d made it to high school, but the past three years had felt like an eternity. Your father was still physically there, but the emotional distance between you two had grown insurmountable. When he did spend time with you, it felt more like an obligation than a genuine connection. You weren’t stupid—you could see it in his eyes. He’d written you off the moment it became clear you didn’t have powers. To him, you were just another weak human, barely worth his time.

Mark wasn’t much better. He oscillated between two extremes: sometimes he was distant, barely acknowledging your existence at home or school. Other times, you’d catch glimpses of your old brother, the one who’d stay up late with you, watching cheesy movies and tucking you in when you fell asleep. Those rare moments of warmth became your lifeline. You clung to them desperately, as if each one could push back the growing darkness in your family.

But then there was the other thing—the real problem. The Demogorgon situation. What had started as a single encounter had become a full-on invasion. No one else seemed capable of dealing with it. Not your dad, not Mark, not the heroes the world adored. So you and your friends had decided to do it yourselves.

At first, it seemed impossible to hide the cuts, bruises, and sprains from fighting the monsters. But with your mom working full time and your father and brother too wrapped up in their own twisted lives to care, no one really noticed. You didn’t blame your mom—she was drowning in her own problems, trying to keep the family together despite everything.

You were fortunate enough to meet Haymitch—a rugged, grizzled man who’d been hunting the creatures for longer than you could imagine. He tried to tell you to back off, to leave it to the adults. But of course, you didn’t listen. You and your friends had been through too much, seen too much. In your stubborn teenage way, you refused to step aside, leaving him no choice but to train you. Over time, he became something of a mentor and a father figure, filling the void that your real father had left behind.

But that year? That year, the world came crashing down.

It started with the Guardians of the Globe. They were the strongest superhero team on the planet, and they were slaughtered—every last one of them. Except for your father. At first, the news rocked the world. Omni-Man was hailed as the tragic survivor, the hero who narrowly escaped death. But you knew better. Something felt wrong about the whole thing. Your gut told you there was more to the story, but you couldn’t imagine the scope of the horror that was to come.

Soon after, the truth emerged.

Your father didn’t come to Earth to protect it—he came to conquer it. And Mark, your once-nerdy, sometimes-kind brother, had fallen right in line with him. Together, they unleashed chaos on the planet. They pillaged cities, tearing through anyone who stood in their way. Mark, now going by the name Invincible, seemed to take after your father in the worst possible ways. The sweet boy who used to protect you from bullies was now a monster, crushing anyone—heroes, civilians, soldiers—who dared oppose him.

The world was plunged into ruin.

You and your friends ran, barely escaping the destruction. You thought maybe your father would have taken you, but no. You weren’t a Viltrumite. You weren’t powerful. You were just… nothing to him. Weak. Disposable. He had already whisked your mom away to a “safe location”—where, you didn’t know—but you were left behind. Haymitch stayed with you, leading your ragtag group as you all tried to survive in a world turned upside down.

You’d never felt so betrayed, so alone.

But even in the wreckage of your life, there was a flicker of hope. You had your friends, and you had Haymitch. And most importantly, you had a burning desire to stop your father and brother. Even if you didn’t have their powers, even if you didn’t have Viltrumite strength, you had something they didn’t—humanity.

And you were going to fight back.

Months passed, and the world’s governments were in tatters. Omni-Man and Invincible’s conquest was nearly complete. Entire cities lay in ruins, and any resistance from the human military or remaining superheroes was swiftly crushed. Yet, even amid the chaos, pockets of resistance formed. Small groups of survivors, including former heroes, started to organize, desperate to reclaim their planet.

You and your friends became part of that underground movement, thanks to Haymitch’s connections. He was no stranger to fighting overwhelming odds, and with his help, you quickly became proficient in guerrilla tactics. You might not have powers, but you had your wits, and you knew how to strike fast and hard, using the terrain and the enemy’s overconfidence against them.

Every day was a struggle, a fight for survival. You missed your mom, wondering if she was safe or if she even knew what was happening. As for your father… well, you weren’t sure what you felt anymore. Love? Hatred? Betrayal? It was all tangled up in a knot too painful to untangle.

And Mark. God, what had happened to him? Was he too far gone, or was there still a part of him that remembered what it meant to be human? The Mark you once knew wouldn’t have done this. But now, the lines were blurred. You didn’t know if he could be saved, or if he was beyond redemption.

The day started out like any other grim scavenging run. You, Hallie, Connor, Weston, and Haymitch had been searching for rations—anything to keep your group alive. The world had become a brutal place, where food and supplies were scarce, and desperation drove people to violence. It was only a matter of time before you crossed paths with another group, and when you did, tension rose immediately.

The air was thick with the potential for bloodshed. Hands hovered near weapons, and the slightest wrong move could trigger a firefight. But as the seconds ticked by, you realized that these weren’t just scavengers—they were survivors, just like you. What’s more, they were part of something bigger. The remnants of humanity’s greatest defenders had gathered in secret, forming a larger resistance led by the surviving heroes who had managed to evade the massacre Omni-Man and Invincible left in their wake.

After a tense exchange, they extended an offer: come with them. They said kids shouldn’t be out here, fighting for their lives like this. It took your group time to weigh the options, but the decision was unanimous—you’d all go. You’d join the resistance and help however you could.

Those weeks spent with the resistance were the best you’d had since the world fell apart. There was food, shelter, and—most importantly—hope. You trained alongside the heroes, working with them to organize missions, raid supply caches, and defend what little remained of civilization. For a while, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d have a chance to fight back against the Viltrumite tyrants.

But in the back of your mind, you dreaded the inevitable. Every night, the fear gnawed at you—Omni-Man and Invincible would find this place. They always did. And when they did, there would be no mercy. No escape.

That day came sooner than you expected.

You were talking with another resistance member when the alarms blared. Panic rippled through the compound as the distant sound of gunfire echoed closer and closer. Then, the ground shook beneath your feet as the roof was torn open with monstrous strength. Invincible descended into the fray, a twisted grin plastered on his blood-splattered face. Omni-Man followed, cold and detached as ever, watching the carnage unfold like it was just another day.

The heroes fought valiantly, but one by one, they fell. Invincible tore through them with savage glee, while Omni-Man dealt crushing blows with deadly precision. It was a massacre.

You were frozen in place, too terrified to move, when you heard a booming voice cut through the chaos—your father’s voice. "To the rest of you," he called out over the battle, "you will die today. There’s no point in fighting." His words sent a chill through your bones.

Everything happened so fast. You tried to run, but before you could escape, a powerful hand grabbed the back of your shirt and lifted you effortlessly into the air. The breath was knocked out of your lungs as you were spun around to face the monster holding you.

It was your father. Omni-Man.

Your mind reeled as you looked at his face, stained with blood—an expression of cold indifference as he gazed down at you. You wanted to scream, to beg, to ask him why, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at the man who once cradled you in his arms, who used to play tea party with you, who had been your hero.

But now? Now, he barely recognized you as his daughter.

You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was useless. His grip was iron. His gaze pierced through you like you were nothing. Then he spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.

"It really is a shame you turned out like this. So weak."

The words hit you harder than any physical blow could. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into his face, searching for any sign of the man you once loved. But there was nothing.

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if considering his next move. Then, his large hand enveloped your head, cradling it—just like he used to when you were little—before he squeezed.

The pain was blinding. It was as if your skull had exploded under the pressure. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t think. Everything went dark.

You were dead.

Your father killed you.

You didn’t even get to graduate high school. You didn’t get to have your first crush. You were dead.

But then, you started to feel.

You were supposed to be dead. The pain should have been gone. Darkness should have consumed you. But you could feel again.

You violently jerked awake, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to burst. Your mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening. 

You should be dead. Your father crushed your skull.

Your hands frantically touched your face, your head, everything. You were whole. You were alive.

Your heart raced, your breathing ragged as you clutched your chest, desperately trying to calm the frantic beating. You forced yourself to focus, but only one thought kept swirling around in your mind:

‘How the fuck am I still alive?’

Last you remembered, your fathe—Omni-Man—was crushing your skull in, revealing just how much of a useless, weak, waste of Viltrumite DNA he thought you were. Then... nothing.

That’s when you noticed your surroundings.

Wait– this wasn’t the battlefield or a bunker. This was your bedroom. The walls were familiar, decorated with posters of bands you loved when things were still normal. The faded rug beneath your feet had that same worn-out spot where you always paced while talking on the phone with your friends.

But this wasn’t possible. You watched your house get destroyed when Invincible and Omni-Man tore through your neighborhood. You watched it crumble along with everything else. You scrambled to your feet, heart racing again as your mind tried to make sense of it all. That’s when you stopped dead in front of your mirror.

Your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and pale, but something was off. Way off. Your scars. The ones you had earned during your time in the resistance, the ones that covered your face, arms, and body from fighting to survive—they were gone. Not all of them—no, the scars from your battles with the Demogorgons were still there, thin lines across your skin like faint echoes of the hell you’d been through. But the deeper, newer scars from the resistance, from facing Omni-Man and Invincible’s destruction? They were gone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced to make sense of this.

Wait a minute.

Something clicked, a horrifying realization dawning on you. You spun around, desperately searching for your phone. After a frantic few seconds of tearing through your sheets, you finally found it, buried under your blanket. Hands shaking, you powered it on, staring intently at the screen as the date loaded.

October 13th, 20XX.

Four months before the Guardians of the Globe were slaughtered. Five months before the world would fall to ruin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, the word escaping in a half-choked whisper.

Your bitch ass time traveled.

[sisyphus-hye]

Love is Nothing

A/N- Cruel femdom Wony

Wonyoung had always been the more dominant one in the relationship, but she had never thought to take it this far. Wonyoung knew deep down she was always out of her boyfriend, Thomas' league. He was a rich, shy, kind-hearted, and nerdy guy. In contrast, Wonyoung was the life of the party, confident, and a queen that could control his life with just the point of a finger. She knew she could do anything and he would still be by her side.

One evening, after a particularly nasty argument, she decided to push the boundaries. She knew he was feeling insecure, and she figured that a little degradation might knock him down a peg. So, she began to belittle him, saying things that she knew would sting, watching the color drain from his face as each word sank in. "You know something Thomas? You're so weak," she sneered, her eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction. "I could have any man I want, and yet here you are, groveling at my feet."

Wonyoung starts to mock her boyfriend's crying, which only makes Thomas shrink further into himself. She saunters closer, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, a cruel smirk playing on her lips as she reaches down to grab his chin, forcing him to look up at her. "You're pathetic," she whispers, her voice dripping with disdain. "But you know what? I think it's time I change things around here."

With a sudden jolt of strength, she yanks him to his feet and pushes him against the nearest wall. The impact echoes through the room, and Thomas' eyes go wide with shock and fear. He tries to protest, but she's already got her hand over his mouth, her grip so tight that he can feel the imprint of her fingers against his skin. "You know the IVE members all make fun of you, right? They laugh at how nerdy you are, how you let me walk all over you," she says, her voice a mix of sweetness and spite. "They know I'm with you, not out of love, but only because all that money you have."

Thomas' eyes fill with tears, his heart racing as she releases his mouth. He gasps for air, but before he can respond, she's speaking again. "But you know what they don't know? That you're not just a pushover. You're my little toy, and I can play with you however I like." She runs her other hand down his chest, the tips of her nails barely grazing his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "How about you get on your fucking knees for me?"

Thomas' knees buckle under the weight of her words and the force of her push. He hits the floor hard, his glasses clattering beneath him. The cold floor feels like ice under his knees, a stark contrast to the heat rising in his cheeks. He looks up at her, eyes pleading, but she only laughs. "That's more like it," she says, her voice a mix of mockery and lust.

Wonyoung looks down on Thomas like the bitch that he is, "I've been meaning to tell you something," she says with a smirk, "You remember that world tour we had? Well on the stop in Atlanta I had a stop at a Hawks basketball game. That's where I met these two nice black gentlemen who came with me back to my hotel room, and you know what they did to me?" She laughs, watching the horror spread across Thomas' face as he tries to piece together the story. "They treated me like a whore. They completely dominated me, used me, and filled me with their seed. And guess what? I liked it."

Thomas' eyes widened, and his mouth went dry. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You…you cheated on me?" he stammers.

Wonyoung laughs, a high-pitched sound that sends chills down his spine. "Oh, Thomas. It wasn't just once. And they weren't just anyone. They were our hired security guards for the rest of the toor, and they knew exactly how to handle a bitch like me." She leans down, her breath hot on his face, her words a cruel taunt. "Every single day and night they had access to my skinny, hot body. While you were texting me and calling me like a lost child telling me you missed me and how you couldn't wait for me to be safe on tour, I was in the hotel room, backstage, or even in some bathroom getting tossed around."

But Wonyoung isn't done. She presses her heels harder against his cock and balls, watching with amusement as he tries to stifle a whimper. Thomas' body feels like it's been hit by a wave of nausea, and he's not sure if it's from the pain in his groin or the betrayal in his heart. "You're so pathetic," she says, her voice dripping with disdain. "You can't even satisfy me with this tiny thing." The emotional and physical pain making him feel even more emasculated. "You know what they had that you don't?" she asks, her voice a low purr. "They had the confidence and the size to satisfy me. Anything they wanted, I gave it to them. They wanted my pussy, they had it. They wanted my ass, they had that too. And when they were done with me, they didn't bother to clean me up. They left me a sticky mess until I got my energy back to clean myself up. Hell, they fucked me so good one night I had to get Gaeul to lick me clean."

Thomas' mind reels as he tries to process her words. He's always felt inadequate compared to the men Wonyoung talked about from her past, but to hear her speak so openly about her infidelity and her preferences for other men is like a knife twisting in his gut. "But…but I thought we had something special," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"That's you're problem there. You're not a thinker Thomas. You're a doer. And right now, I want you to do something for me," Wonyoung says, her voice dripping with malice. She reaches down and grabs his tie, pulling him closer so that their faces are mere inches apart. "Tonight, I'm going to an industry party tonight with Yujin and our company is counting on her and I to entertain these disgust, old, rich men so that they'll invest in IVE's next comeback. I'm bringing Yujin back with me and when we get home, I want you to clean us up. You're going to lick us both clean of their filth. You got it, my little bitch boy?" She says with a sadistic smile.

[wesstars]

love, at second glance

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: that’s what you do when you love somebody else… wc: 1k tags: all characters 18+; no ghostface au. angst, horribly excessive use of italics (seriously, everything in italics is either a quote, a thought, or actual emphasis. it’s terrible) a/n: what’s up y’all (title from 715 - CR∑∑KS by bon iver)

masterlist

Tara wondered when it all began.

You and me, me and you.

A mantra that used to be comforting, it now left her mouth dry, mind frantic. 

Sometimes, when it got real bad like it did today, she’d drive out to your—our—deserted garage, and look up into a pitch black night, blinking away tears. It was easy to scream at the sky: how could you forget about me about us about milkshakes shared about distances closed about how I love you and love you and love you—but to you, she’d say nothing.

She couldn’t say anything, while you basked in the glow of a new hand to hold. It was all over in a helpless shrug. That was it, and really, it wasn’t your fault. Nobody’s fault. You couldn’t help it, Tara reasoned, you weren’t cruel. Even at the very end, you were endlessly kind. Commitment was a choice, but love, love happened to you away from Tara and she couldn’t do anything but watch.

Tara switched the engine off, leaning back in her seat. The stars shone barely brighter than the city lights. It was strange, the way that when she was on the brink of losing everything, the world looked that much more beautiful. Every breath in that particularly cold winter felt like it was being swallowed up by the vastness of air itself, precious in its scarcity. 

“But I love you.”

You said nothing for a moment, a troubled little frown twisting on your lips. “Tara, I—”

“I love you.” She heard, rather than felt, herself repeating it. As if stopping you from speaking would make that cold reality any less crushing. “That’s all.”

It was odd, Tara decided, to go online and see your life in the pictures she used to be part of. She put her phone down. From tide pulls to seasons changing, there wasn’t exactly a world where she envisioned herself going on without you. There was something in that sinking feeling, like you were holding her down with a hand on her chest, when she saw you laughing with your friends, with anyone, a smile so brilliant it couldn’t possibly have Tara as the cause. 

You’d always wanted a little cabin in the woods (���not in a creepy way,” you’d insist) surrounded by mist, and it would always be raining. “You’re the only sunshine I need, Tara Carpenter.” She could still hear the way you’d tease her, lying on your side next to her, tracing the bridge of her nose with your fingertip. So easy it was, to tumble back into those shining memories where absolutely nothing would go wrong, you wouldn't let it, because she was yours.

The top floor of the lot was empty, and the moon spilled onto the windshield, into the empty passenger seat. She was lucky, you both were lucky, to have even come as close to the sun as the two of you did. Tara knew, deep inside herself, that if she just let it all go, she would be okay. The blood would rush back into her fingertips—you wouldn’t be there to massage the feeling back into them, the way you often did on winter nights like this—and then she would be okay.

Tara thought that she remembered too much for someone so hurt. Your hand on her thigh while you drove, wiping her lipstick off your cheek, the way you seemed so so so unhappy when you sat her down for one last time. You didn’t even look the same then, like you were somebody else, you weren’t hers anymore. It was getting colder in the car, but Tara didn’t feel anything but the searing coil of shame. 

Sunkissed March found you and Tara lying side by side on a picnic blanket, sodas losing their fizz as time forgot to move the two of you. A breeze ruffled the leaves, and if she really listened, Tara could hear the frogs in the nearby pond. You loved it here—you said it reminded you of hot summers spent in the countryside, the days as long as wildflowers. Not half an hour ago, you were braiding together the stems of daisies into a lush crown. 

“For you, Queen Carpenter,” you said in a posh accent. “A gift from your humble knight—each braid represents a ‘forever,’ and each flower is an ‘always.’” You set the crown atop Tara’s head, kissing the tip of her nose as she rolled her eyes.

“And what has compelled my knight to bring me such a gift?”

“Only all of the love I carry for you, your majesty.” You scooped her up in your arms, smiling as she giggled, rolling the two of you over to settle into the knolls of grass.

There was a certain bravery in the way your fingers wrapped loosely around hers, the way the heels of both your shoes made indents in the dirt—proclaiming, we were here. Even in her doze, Tara could feel you there, each moment stretching on like strings of eternity, unfailingly. 

The moment did end, as moments do. The crown, dried and shrunk, still hung from the rear view mirror in the car. The daisies themselves were long gone, but the dried stems had somehow stayed bound together. Tara’s head dropped into her hands, eyes sore and red. She’d thought so much and so often about where the two of you went wrong, she felt like she had turned over every stone in your path, ones that didn’t carry with them the weight of a goodbye. Tara would give anything to even know what it would take for you to stand in the sun with her one more time.

The abrupt knock on the window should’ve startled Tara more than it did, given that it was four in the morning in an empty parking lot, and she was supposed to be all alone. But all she could do was watch with wide eyes as the knock came from you, at your tight lipped smile. She rolled down the window, unable to feel anything but shock as she took in your mismatched shoes with untied laces, your shirt way too thin for the cold night. You weren’t looking at her, guilt evident in the hunch of your shoulders. Your voice comes out exactly as she remembered it. 

“Hey… can we talk?”

--

a/n cont'd: don't super feel like i like this but writing it came naturally so

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x Reader | angsty smut | includes infidelity, Reader is married to a different public servant of Hawkins (can you guess who, @umnitsa ? 😉) Hopper is married as well, death of Hopper’s daughter mentioned, Hopper is a real ass here, unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, ANGST ANGST ANGST…

@mrshopper84 @travelingtwentysomething @beefrobeefcal @braincell-pingpong @skye-44 @midwest-princess @riotrhythm

──────────────────────

“This isn’t right.”

At first, Hopper didn’t hear you speak. He was too distracted by the taste of your soft skin on his tongue, his mouth pressed to your neck in an open kiss. When your words did register in his mind, he disregarded them. Who gave a fuck whether what the two of you were doing was right or wrong? Hadn’t you both earned some happiness? You, with a husband too absorbed in his work to pay you any attention, and Hopper, whose wife had grown so cold and distant after the death of their daughter that she barely let him touch her anymore?

“This isn’t right, Hopper,” you repeated, insistent this time. His grip on your hips tightened, almost hurting. You were sitting on his lap in his office, after hours at the station. In the darkness, just the two of you, just how you liked it. How you needed it to be, to avoid a scandal that would turn the small town of Hawkins upside down...

You became frustrated at Hopper’s disregard for your words, pulling back from him. His jaw tightened, his lips a thin, hard line. “And what makes you think I fuckin’ care if it’s right or wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and impatient. “I want you.” Hopper bounced his knee under you, making you gasp as your cunt settled against the thick outline of his cock. Hopper exhaled as you shifted on top of the erection painfully straining against his uniform. “I want you,” he reiterated, speaking through grit teeth. “I want you and that asshole you’re married to doesn’t.” Hopper’s words stung already, but they were about to get worse.

“That new secretary he just hired? Remember her?” You braced yourself for what you already knew was coming. “He’s fucking her, did y’know that?” Hopper didn’t waste time softening the blow of his words with pretty euphemisms. Why should he? You’d come this far, let him touch you already. You were straddling Hopper’s lap for fucks sake. You wanted this as much as he did, and he’d be damned if he let you pretend to have grown a conscience between the time you straddled his lap and now…

Hopper knew you were a smart woman. You must have known your husband was having an affair, that he’d been unfaithful for as long as the two of you had been married. “Mrs. Kline,” Hopper uttered your name through a cruel smirk. He reached for the strand of hair spilling down your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as Hopper’s thumb grazed your earlobe, his skin warm. “Don’t let this time we have go to waste,” Hopper told you. “We both know things aren’t going to change anytime soon, for either one of us.”

You shifted a little on top of his thighs, Hopper’s cock pulsing against your cunt in response. You’d already soaked through your panties, a wet patch leaking through onto Hopper’s pants. He’d have to wash those himself, later. Couldn’t risk his wife finding them in the laundry and asking questions. But a bit of deception was a small price to pay if it meant finally getting inside you.

“Larry is-,” you began, but Hopper bucked you on his knee again, silencing you.

“Mm-mm,” he chastised, shaking his head. “Don’t say the bastard’s name. Not when you’re with me.”

Hopper swallowed any words you may have had left in a kiss. His tongue licked back the apprehension sitting on the edge of yours, the things you knew you should say, but didn’t want to. Mainly, the word “no.” You didn’t want to tell Hopper no.

His large hands held you down against his lap, thumbs finding purchase in the space where your hips and thighs met. Being the mayor’s wife, you’d interacted with the Chief of Police several times over the years. But never like this. The time you’d spent together had been social, limited to local events. Always public, always within the gaze of the people of Hawkins. The eyes of the public on you had forced both you and Hopper to keep your desire for one another a secret. But now, years later, you’d both grown weary of pretending, of keeping things professional. His hand slipped between your legs, gliding under the waist of your panties. You gasped as Hopper inserted two of his thick, calloused fingers inside you without warning. A cocky little grin pulled at his lips. “Just warming you up, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently, adding “Christ you’re fuckin’ tight…Might send you back to Lare a little broken, y’know…?”

You moaned into Hopper’s chest as he fingered you, humping against his palm. No matter how fucking good his fingers felt inside you, he was still Jim Hopper. The same man who’d developed a reputation for drinking and drug use while on the job. The same man whose wife was presumably sleeping soundly right now, at the home she shared with Hopper, having bought the lie he’d sold her about needing to stay late at the station for ‘work.’ He was working, but not the way he’d implied. Hopper’s fingers working inside you were an altogether different kind of work, the way he manipulated your cunt yet another form of manipulation he was very skilled at, in addition to lying to his wife.

“You’re so close,” Hopper gloated at your ear in a low, smug voice. The fact that he was getting you off with nothing but his fingers was stroking Hopper’s ego, just like his fingers were stroking your insides. He held a misplaced sense of pride in being able to do for you what your husband couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. It was something Hopper could accomplish, something he could succeed at, in contrast with his crumbling marriage. Maybe instead of thrusting his fingers up another woman’s cunt, he should have been at home with his wife, working on repairing his marriage. But Hopper wasn’t interested in what he should be doing. All he wanted to do, was you.

The sound of Hopper’s chair creaked loudly in the small office at the impact of you grinding on his lap. He smacked your ass with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, then carefully removed the one that was. You whimpered at being suddenly empty, pouting up at Hopper in frustration. He didn’t deny you for long, quickly working his belt and pants undone, his cock springing free and smacking thick and wet against your cunt with an audible slap. Hopper lifted you by your hips, guiding you onto his plump, leaking tip and letting you sink onto him at your own pace.

Hungry, greedy, your cunt swallowed Hopper with minimal difficulty. You managed to take him whole, your clit pressed against the coarse dark hair above Hopper’s cock. He growled behind grit teeth, as the sensation of being consumed by you overtook him. It had been years since Hopper had been with a woman besides his wife. The grip of fresh pussy moving up and down his shaft caused Hopper’s brain to temporarily glaze over. He was lurched back into awareness by the harsh ring of the telephone sitting on his desk.

“Ignore it,” Hopper panted, speaking to himself as much as you. A moment later, the phone ceased ringing. When the shrill sound began again less than a minute later, Hopper pulled his lips from your throat and cursed. He knew there was only one person who would be trying to reach him here at this time of night. Hopper reached for the phone, gently lifting it from the receiver. He brought his index finger against his lips, instructing you to remain quiet. Forcing his voice as steady as possible, considering you were grinding up and down on his cock, Hopper spoke: “Diane?” You nuzzled your face into Hopper’s neck, muffling your own sounds into his shirt. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line spoke, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to keep riding Hopper, moving closer and closer to your peak.

“I can’t-I uh-,” Hopper stammered, swallowing. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the sweat blooming beneath the hair peeking out from his shirt collar. “I’m gonna be a little longer, sweetheart,” Hopper managed, clearing his throat. He closed his eyes in an attempt to remove the image of your breasts bouncing in front of him with every descent you made on his cock. His wife’s voice chattered away on the other end of the line. “Thirty minutes,” Hopper said, and inwardly, you grimaced. You wanted all night with him, but under the circumstances, both your options and Hopper’s were limited.

“Yeah,” Hopper grunted, followed by a rushed “love you too,” before he quickly replaced the phone on top of the receiver. You paused, meeting his eyes in the dim light of his office. “Is that true?” you asked tentatively, your voice breathless. Hopper’s hands were all over you again, as if the phone call had never happened. His expression conveyed annoyance as he sorted out what you were asking him, his response a confused “what?”

“She said I love you,” you explained. “Your wife. And you said it back.” Hopper’s eyebrows lifted incredulously. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s your point?”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, despising how pitiful and small you sounded in this moment. Hopper exhaled, the cruel smirk returning to his lips. “How is that any of your fucking business?” he asked through a humorless chuckle. His smile evaporated as a darker look replaced it. “Now you listen to me, because here’s how this is gonna work-.” His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing a little too hard. “-You’re gonna keep these legs spread till I come in between them and then we’re gonna part ways like this never fuckin’ happened, understand?” You nodded, forcing the tears behind your eyes not to fall. You wouldn’t give Hopper the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt you anymore than he already had.

Hopper nodded, satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he said, without any sentiment behind his words. Hopper’s arms crushed you against him as he bucked up into you. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his stomach tightening. Hopper’s grunts of exertion grew sharper, till his body stilled tight against yours, his cum spilling inside you. With his forehead pressed to your shoulder, Hopper panted hot and labored against your chest.

The absence of sound in the office, apart from Hopper’s breath, was far from quiet. A sick tension hung in the air, his cold words repeating back in your mind on a loop. After a moment, Hopper patted your ass and instructed you to “get up.” He held onto the base of his cock as you slid off it, a thick trail of semen gushing out and landing on his thigh. Hopper cursed, almost as if implying the mess was your fault. He turned his back to you, lighting a cigarette. Feeling unsatisfied and worse, ashamed, your voice was trembling when you quietly asked, “should I…go?”

Hopper’s shoulders moved in small chuckle, and he turned to face you. His cock was still hanging out, as if he was in no hurry to put it away. You, by contrast, had already begun to dress. Hopper sucked a long drag out of his cigarette, exhaling as he informed you flatly, “yeah, we’re done here.” He reached for his coat and made his way to the door. Even though you were fully dressed by now, you felt more exposed than ever. He waved his hand ahead of him, ushering you out the front door of the station. “See yourself out,” Hopper directed. The hurt inside you was beginning to boil over into rage. You’d never felt more used in your life, even after being humiliated by your husband’s affairs for years. “Fuck you, Jim,” you spat at him, your saliva landing on his cheek. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted in a look of amusement. “Well that already happened,” he taunted.

The cold night air was oddly welcoming as you burst through the station door and out into the parking lot. You found your vehicle and quickly got inside, your hands squeezing the steering wheel till your fingers cracked. You left the station and made your way home to your husband, while another man’s cum slowly leaked out of you onto the driver’s seat the whole way home.

[red-phantom-0]

New Beginings

-> Arlecchino (genshin) inspired reader ( reader is also addressed as arlecchino) aka ur basically arlecchino in this imagine

-> Jason todd wakes up in a forest , abandoned and confused as he comes to terms with his painful resurrection until he's adopted by someone named 'father' . All goes well until his adopted family finds him and wants him back.

Platonic relationship!!

Jason’s POV

Blood . Blood and the smell of burnt flesh sticks to me like a plague , it follows me like a predator and tightens its sharp fangs around me . I feel utterly hopeless and I wander around aimlessly. Trees as tall as the sky surround me and the only living creature here is myself and death himself . Twigs and leaves stick to my bare feet as I trudge through the greenage . I roamed for god’s know how long but my swollen feet carried me to a lake. I collapse onto the ground and hover above the water - and that's it

That's when I saw him. Dead green eyes stare right back at me , his skin is pale like the dead and his hair - his bloody hair had a mocking white tuff at the front . He - no I scream , filled with pain , anger , confusion , frustration . That is not me - he is not me . My once boyish innocence was robbed and replaced with more manlier features , chubby cheeks replaced for high cheekbones that could surely put any male model to shame but he looks so dead .

His eyes and his complexion are that of the dead maybe because he was supposed to be . In his screaming agony he slammed his hands into the water resulting in him recoiling , the excruciating pain practically ate him alive . He looks down at his hands and he almost vomits . His palms were covered in a deep purplish bruise that practically stung . He lets out another scream mixed with a cry , why - why must it be him ? What did he ever do to deserve such a cruel faith , a faith meant for those condemned to hell ? Maybe this is hell - his own personal living hell . He cries into the grass like a pathetic child as he recalls the distant yet agonizing memory of a bomb ticking and the overwhelming feeling of fire consuming him .

So why - when he was finally put out of his misery did nature drag him back from the depths of the abyssal darkness into this hell . He was just angry - at himself , at the world and at batman. Why must only he suffer ?

He continues crying until he hears a twig snap . Like a wounded animal , he immediately seized his movement and began looking around frantically . The air around him grew cold and quiet . His frantic eyes scanned everywhere until it landed on the figure in the distance . He watches as she approaches him with deliberate steps . He could feel his own anxiousness bubble up within him but still - he gets up , relentless in backing down now . He stalks her , shooting her a glare yet she gives away nothing wearing a blank face.

She stops at an arm length poised. Her white hair dances in the blowing wind yet her eyes - piercing black eyes with a haunting red ‘x’ for an iris - a promise of a terrifying demise . Silence envelopes them both as they observe one another . “ You’re hurt, “ she says with a deadpan tone . Anger consumes him , she is just like him - just like bloody Bruce Wayne , his so-called father , cold and unmoving as if they were above everyone else.

He snarls and lunges at her but she swiftly kicks him in his chest , her sharp heel digging into the sensitive flesh of his back. “ Let go of me you bloody wrench” he curses as he squirms - he couldn’t give up not yet , not ever - he refused to give in. “ Stand down child you are hurt “ she says and to push her point further she presses her heel further into his back. He lets out a cry but manages to grab ahold of her leg and throw her into a nearby tree.

She manages to balance herself by using her heels to ground herself . Jason , seeing this, starts running in her opposite direction . He weaves in and out of the prickling branches - not minding the way they claw into his back and face leaving behind raw marks . He huffs as he jumps over a fallen log but is cut off guard when he hears footsteps behind him . He risks a peak and no doubt - she is following after him .

He huffs - frustrated , tired and frankly done with this ordeal but he continues to dart in and out between the trees . Jason makes a move to dart behind another tree when she leaps in front of him - absolutely startling him to death . He attempts to turn around but she delivers a swift kick to his head and suddenly , he feels himself go under.

Arlecchino's POV

She watches Jason’s crumbled form laid out on the red velvet cushions of the car through the rear mirror . She has no shadow of a doubt that the young boy is a mess but that doesn’t deter the parental instinct of protecting him . This wasn’t her first time meeting a child in such a roughed up state - her orphanage is filled with them but she has never ever heard a child scream in such agony . Before all of this - she was simply driving back home - her children eagerly awaiting her return to start dinner but something in her gut told her to pull aside and investigate . It was highly irrational and utterly dangerous but she was glad she did it because when she stared at the sweet boy laying in her backseat - she knew that she had to take care of him.

It wasn’t too long after Arlecchino arrived at the house of hearth - a mansion carefully tucked away into a tall mountain , vines practically climbed on the limestone walls of the castle-like mansion and its black gates while the black roof wore crow trimmings . Arlecchino carefully manoeuvres her car around the fountain , parking the car in front of a sea of cobblestone steps . She steps out , carefully fixing her coat as a crow flew down and landed on her shoulder .

“ Inform the children that we have a new guest” she says calmly . The crow nods at her before flying off . Moments pass before Arlecchino opens the back door and carefully picks Jason up bridal style . She leaned his head into the crook of her neck and began ascending the stairs . Despite the dreary , abandoned look the House of Hearth adorned outside - the inside was filled with laughter and warmth.

As soon as she stepped into the threshold , she can hear plates and chairs being rummaged around and the sound of children laughing and talking . She ascends another flight of stairs before stopping in front of a door . She lets out a gentle hum and the door is opened by another crow , wordlessly , she enters the room and lays Jason onto the bed . The crow perches on the bed post as it eyes her tucking a blanket over him .

“ Watch over him and summon a healer to treat his wounds ….. When he wakes up please alert me immediately “ she orders . The crow croons as it watches her leave .

Jason’s POV

He grumbles as he sinks further into the warm , soft feeling under him - he feels ease for some reason and then that's when the memories of last night jolts him awake . He sits up - still groggy from sleep as he examines his area . He determines he’s in a bedroom as he observes the dark green wallpaper that covers his room , an antique wooden desk and chair is tucked away in a corner and a matching antique wardrobe and vanity sit opposite the room . The room had wide , white windows that were framed by golden curtains - this was definitely something from those dark academia books he used to read in his youth and he hates to admit it but it's all nice .

Jason examines himself - his arms and torso were wrapped in bandages and he was only dressed in grey sweats . So this wasn’t some sick concoction of his mind - all of yesterday did happen. Jason felt lost - he felt so unsure of what to make of the situation anymore , of his feelings anymore - he’s now stuck in a body that doesn’t even feel like his - nothing doesn’t feel like his anymore - he feels like a puppet just being stringed on by his cruel master .

His inner turmoil is suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door . Jason holds his breath for a moment as the door opens and the same person from last night walks in - Jason observes her , she’s dressed down in a black work shirt and black slacks but her white hair cascades down her face and he finally realizes that she has streaks of black and red peaking through , her hands were black as if they were stained with ink but something tells him it’s more to it , he observes that she wears minimal jewelry and makeup not like she needed any - the woman before him looked ethereal .

“ Good Morning “ she greets him as she sits at the edge of his bed . Jason straightens but makes no move to attack her “ My name is Arlecchino or The Knave but the children of the Hearth call me Father “ She introduced herself . Jason nods , he’s heard of the Hearth , an orphanage for children determined to have no hope or home . “ Jason Todd but I …..used to be Robin “ he trails off . Arlecchino nods . “ I figured you were a vigilante with those reflexes last night “ she says. Jason just nods .

Silence envelopes them. “ Look if you’re going to pawn me off to Batman -” but she cuts him off , “ I’m not pawning you off anywhere Jason , if you choose to stay here or go back to him that’s fine with me , all I ask is that you recover “ Arlecchino says with finality. Jason stills - he feels everything crumble around him - she’s supposed to be fighting no ? supposed to already be gutting him open and delivering him to batman or holding him hostage or hell experimenting on him . Arlecchino stares at him . “ If you are wondering why you’re not in a body bag or what not - that's because mother is no longer in charge of the hearth anymore , although I am not better person but I would not harm a child - albeit enemy or not “ Arlecchino says as she plays around with the singular ring on her hand.

Jason gives her a perplex look , he remembers back in his old Robin days - Arlecchino’s name was #4 on Gothams most wanted - her gruesome murders kept the media buzzing all month around especially when she was allegedly suspected of killing a wealthy pharmaceutical president . He eyed her wearily - she could kill him , he could run away - run away where ? Bruce thinks he’s dead - he was dead - now he's alive and suddenly all he feels is anger.

“ Jason “ Arlecchino calls out as she senses his unease . Jason glares at her . “ What do you want from me - you people resurrect me to do what threatens Batman ? He wouldn’t bloody buy into it because he is a monster that leaves children to die “ he spits out in distaste . Arlecchino looks at him . “ I didn’t resurrect you Jason , I don’t know who or why they resurrected you but I found you and I intend to take care of you until you can take care of yourself .” Arlecchino says firmly .

Jason stares at her . Moments of silence passed between them until he finally asked , “ Why ? Why care so much ?” .

“ Because that's what a good father does , he cares, “ Arlecchino explains . Those words hung heavy in the air . “ Breakfast would be served to you , you are free to explore though it is advised you rest , if you do need me ask one of the crows and I shall come to you “ Arlecchino says before walking out and closing the door to his room softly.

True to her word - food did arrive to him , by a crow , the little guy squeaked before he curled up next to Jason while he ate - he would admit it’s very Harry Potter and it shouldn’t be making him happy . Jason reminisces over Dick , Bruce and Alfred - does his family miss him ? Do they look for him ? Think about him anymore ? All questions but no answers . He munches on his sandwich as he also ponders on the earlier conservations . Does she care about him ? Why should she when he’s a nobody ?

Jason gives up but decides to take a walk . He opens the door and is greeted by a hallway , decorated in an off -white wallpaper and covered in vintage paintings . He carefully walks into the hallway , observing through the same white , wide windows that showcase the delicate greenery outside . The crow eagerly follows him , landing on his shoulder and affectionately rubs against his cheek.

Jason wandered off a bit but ultimately sat on a windowsill and admired the outside for a while - he was just contempt with being alone . He didn't know how long he’d been but the crow began to squawk at him and flew down an opposite hall . Jason follows after the crow down the hall and is introduced to a dining room . A large chandelier hung above them , the room had large open windows that let in light , there were rows and rows of tables filled with kids ranging from all ages eating lunch .

Jason awkwardly walks in . People stopped eating to wave at him or even smile , some even greeted him with a ‘ good afternoon ‘ . Jason approaches a table at the front of the room and there , Arlecchino sits at the head table enjoying a sandwich while being surrounded by a bunch of crows . , his own crow landed next to her and squawked . Arlecchino looks up from the crow , to him and beacons him over . “ Jason, come eat with me “ she invites him . Jason walked over to her and sat in the seat directly next to hers . A plate of pasta appeared before him and Arlecchino beaconed him to eat. Jason eyes it but eats it anyways and god did it taste good .

Arlecchino allows a little smile to show on her face before she resumes to her own meal . “ Jason , this is my son Lyney , Lyney this is Jason our esteemed guest “ Arlecchino introduces Jason to the boy opposite him . He flashes Jason a toothy smile and throws him a card of red 8 hearts . “ Welcome Jason it’s an honour to have you here “ Lyney says animatedly. Jason smiled and nodded . “ Likewise “ he responded.

“ So Jason, what are your plans after recovery ?” Lyney inquires . Jason stills and glances at Arlecchino’s way . “ I plan to stay here …. If that's okay with you “ he asks . Arlecchino raised her brow . “ Jason I already told you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you want “ she says with a matter of fact tone . Jason nods , “ I don’t want to be a burden to any of you “ he explains . “ You aren’t and will never be a burden to any of us “ Arlecchino says with certainty . For the first time in a long time - Jason smiles .

5 months later

Arlecchino POV

It has been five months since Jason has come into our lives , it's been a change - a good change for all of this , I watch from my office window and Jason and Lyney play football in the garden with the other boys of the orphanage - safe to say Jason has adapted to us . He’s still closed off , still a bit awkward but nevertheless doing much better than when he came here . Since the five months per his request , I’ve been looking into his resurrection and so far nothing but dead ends , I’ve heard nothing from his father - or should I say batman ? I’m not entirely sure but last week Jason approached me in my personal office and told me about his family’s vigilante life in detail .

At first I thought he was kidding about the robin thing but it turns out that batman has a habit of having multiple robins and he was one of them . I recall him crying after it thinking I’d kick him out of the hearth - being a criminal and all and the fear of him betraying me but I reassured him that I didn’t care about his parentage or his past , that I only cared about the present.

We made some progress on our relationship and he has taken to calling me ‘ dad ‘ which made me happy . I sipped on my tea as I observed the boys until a crow landed next to me . “ Mr.Wayne in front “ It croaked . I spared it a glance as worry course through me , “ Summon for Jason and order the children to their rooms , all crows on guard “ I ordered .

This leads to now - the Hearth was empty save for Jason and myself in my work office . “ Dad - I don’t know what to do, “ Jason confessed as he paced up and down . I observed him . The moment he came in my office and I overlaid the message my son has been a wreck and it breaks my heart . “ Jason , no matter what I won’t let you get in harm's way “ I reassured him . Jason looks at me for a moment before he nods . “ Okay Dad - I’ll face him". He says before sitting next to me . I nod and gesture to a nearby crow to allow Bruce Wayne in.

Jason’s POV

I watched nervously as Dad ordered the crow to let Bruce in . I was shaking , nervousness and anger course through me at the same time , for once my life has been going well since my resurrection and now - now he wants me ? Now he cares about me ? I observed Dad’s face and I could tell she’s worried and I hate worrying about her because she’s always working so hard and she's always making sure all of us are well loved and cared for . I side hugged her as I eyed the door .

“ Dad, I love you “ I confess. I could feel her freeze under my hold and then I began to feel scared because what if she doesn't want me -

“ I love you too son “ she answered back and squeezed me and I smiled at the mention of ‘son’.

The door opens and lord and behold - in walks Bruce Wayne and two other young boys. Bruce looks at me in shock and worry before he looks at Dad and gives him a nasty glare and I swear it takes everything in me to not punch him. “ Welcome , Mr.Wayne to the House of Hearth , I am The Knave, how can I help you ?” Dad says in a deadpan tone . Bruce is still glaring at her but takes a seat in the chair in front of her huge mahogany desk . The younger of the two boys looks around with a snare while the other just stares ahead in boredom.

“ Let’s get to the chase shall we Knave ? You have my son and I want him back “ Bruce states matter of factly. I growl in anger - Now I'm his son ? I release my hands from hugging dad , ready to punch him but dad places her hand on my shoulder . “ Mr.Wayne , while I do agree that he is your legal son , I found him abandoned and lost in a forest and likewise as a parent myself I took him in “ Father said in a deadpan tone . “ According to the house’s clinic reports Mr.Wayne , Jason Todd was found with third degree burn mark on his palms , a concussion and a fractured rib and severely underfed “ father continues . Bruce shoots her a glare . “ Given your track record Knave , I won’t put it past you for inflicting those onto my son “ Bruce says with a glare . I seethe in my seat . “ You bastard, how dare you accuse my father of abusing me -” I shouted angrily .

The younger of the two boys growled at me , “ Are you stupid ? You are being held hostage by a wanted criminal and you want us to believe she wouldn’t hurt you ?” he questioned . His father gave him a look but made no move to correct him. Dad rubs my back and I look at her - scared because I feel like I’m being taken away from her - from my own family and I begin to feel like the same hopeless broken little boy she found in that forest. I want to beg her - beg her to just take all of us away to a far away land where we can all be happy and together but I know it’s not gonna happen - Bruce will not let it happen.

“ Putting aside our opinions , It is purely up to Jason on what he wants and wishes “ Dad says with finality. Bruce pursues his lips at that . “ I want to stay here with you Dad “ I say as I hug her . She hugs me back and runs her hand through my hair - attempting to soothe me . “ My son has made his decision; you may now leave “ Dad says . Bruce angrily slammed his hands on the table . “ Stop manipulating my son you - wench “ he curses out he says angrily . I let go from hugging dad and immediately slap Bruce , “ Don’t you ever fucking cuss my dad you piece of shit “ I say angrily . Bruce looks at me - really looks at me and I can see the anger brewing inside , threatening to spill over . “ Jason, if you don’t come home I won’t hesitate to lock her in Arkam’s Asylum. “ he threatens . The other two boys next to him nod in agreement - and finally I realized their plan - we were outnumbered and I won’t let Dad go there of all places - I need her , we all need her here . I sigh and look at Dad . “ Son don’t do this I don’t care what happens to me but I can get you and the other’s somewhere safe -” Dad starts but I cut her off , “ No dad - I can’t bear to know you get arrested and tortured in there because of me “ I say , somber . Dad shakes her head , “ It’s my job to keep you safe Jason -” she starts but I just embrace her for the last time - my mind already made up , “ Da I love you , goodbye “ I say as tears run down my face . Dad embraces me back “ I love you too and I will see you soon son “ she says softly , her voice laced in vulnerability . Before I knew it - I was ripped out of her arms and was being dragged down the halls by Bruce .

Dad chased after me but the younger boy threw a smoke bomb at her and then we vanished.

[moon-child-goddess]

Whispers of Regret

Pairings:  Druig X Reader (Fem) 

Summary: Druig says something he wishes he could take back.

Warnings: I used Fem pronouns, Angst, mention of name calling, some language, groveling.

Author's note: I wrote this in a hour and it’s 2 am so I will come back and edit later. I just feel bad that I abandoned you all.

Druigs blood ran cold through his veins as soon as he realized what he had said out loud. The words had tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could register them. He was tired and exhausted from all the missions he had lately. It was no excuse, and he knew it.

Y/N’s body tensed a low gasp escaping her lips. The smile she had plastered on earlier fell. Never in a thousand years would she have expected him to be so cruel. A burning sensation formed behind her eyelids as she fought off tears. She refused to cry in front of him, not in here in this crowd either. Besides Druig didn’t deserve those tears.

The words bounced around in her mind as she took a deep breath. She was at a loss of what to do. She wouldn’t cause a scene at Tonys charity gala. Y/N’s nostrils flared as she began to lose some of her resolve.  She downed the rest of the champagne in her glass.

How dare he speak to her like that. All she wanted to do was make the gala easy on Druig so he could relax and enjoy his time. But he wanted to call her worthless and a bitch?

Druig ran a hand over his face mumbling her name, but cut himself off at the glare she sent him.  It was so full of anger. An anger he had never seen directed at him. He wanted to fix this. He had to fix it.  There was a twitch in his hand as he moved to reach out to her. But he stopped, because she hated being touched when she was feeling big emotions like anger. She liked her space so she could think and control herself.

“Darling please, I am sorry.” The words were barely spoken above a whisper almost drowned out by the lively chatter of other guests.

Y/N shook her head some strands falling out of her up do. She needed to get out of there. This event was not theirs to ruin. Home was somewhere she could be alone, and a walk would cool her down. Maybe even pick up some greasy food truck tacos.

A tsunami of panic washed through Druig as he watched her briskly walk away towards the doors. Druig took off after Y/N trying to match her pace, but his long strides couldn’t match her speed. Even in her heels she was fast. He had to fix this.

An older women stopped the girl.  In a millisecond Y/N’s frown tuned into her effortless smile. Hiding any emotion but happiness. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the blue-eyed man come closer.

“Please excuse me. I am not feeling well and was going to head home.” Y/N explained, before slipping through the doors.

“Y/N- Y/N please.” The words came out as a plea he knew she would ignore. Which she did and kept putting distance between them.

Druig cursed himself. He knew he was stupid and there was no excuse for taking his cranky anger out on her. He never should have uttered those words to her. And now he couldn’t take them back. They would always echo in the back of her mind if he could fix this, and that terrified him.  

An instant regret hit her as a shiver ran through here. She regretted the decision not to pick up her coat.   But it would have given him enough time to catch up to her.  Her steps were in the opposite direction of their home. She opted to take the long way, so she could get some greasy food truck tacos. Her comfort food. It was also time to avoid the man behind her.

“Darling. Please get in the car. Let me get you home safely.”  His words were hard to understand against the sounds of traffic.  

“No.” there was nothing behind the words. They were just dry. Not a hint of anger or sadness just empty. Druig winced there was going to be a lot of groveling and he would do whatever needed to fix this.

“I will say nothing and act like your Uber driver then leave.” It was late and cold. A bad combination in New York.

“No.”  She crossed the road not bothering to look both ways. Her hope was that he would get cut off by a car giving her more space to disappear.

“Why not?” He knew why. He just was at a loss on what to do.  She was going to catch a cold in her strapless dress.

“Because I am mad at you.” She called out against the sound of a car horn. Behind the wheel was a man annoyed that she was taking forever to cross.

The noise made her blood boil a little more. She wanted to stop and scream at the driver to come dodge potholes in a pencil heel, and she would honk at him. But she continued straight.

Druig however, turned and glared at the driver before flipping them off. Gold flashed through his eyes for the briefest second. He wanted to make them apologize to her and grovel. But he was the one who needed to apologize and… well grovel. The time he took to stop gave her more than enough time to slip away into a group of tourists.

It was loud and the lights were making it hard for him to find her. He frantically searched through the crowd of people. A few of them cursing him as he pushed through them. As he was about to give up and use his powers, he caught a glimpse of her silk dress.

“Darling Please let me make sure you get home safe.” His accent made her flinch.  She didn’t believe he would have found her that quickly. She thought for sure she was going to find him sitting in front of their door.  

“Stop please. I need to think. I beg you to please let me be.” The pleading in her tone broke him. He knew he had messed up and that the least he could do was respect her wishes.  

“Ok. Call me if you need a ride. I will pick you up.”. Before turning to walk away he reached out wanting to touch her to remind her that he loved her. But shook his head and gave her the space she wanted.

The food truck she had her sights on was just a few more blocks away. That was her plan food, some tears then she will face the issue at hand.

-----

Once she made it to their apartment Druig was sitting by the front door. He looked defeated. His hair was a mess, the tie he wore was loosened. She was almost certain he had cried. It was funny though because she still couldn’t bring herself to cry. She was just angry, the kind that made you feel numb. Right now all she carved was her bed.

Without saying a word, she dropped the container of food she bought for him at his feet.  She knew he hadn’t eaten and as livid as she was, she still cared about his well-being.

“Y/N?” His voice was thick and caught in his throat.

“I just want to go to bed.” She turned the key; the sound of the deadbolt was loud in the brief moment of silence. “We will talk in the morning.”

“OK. I will sleep in the guestroom then.”  

“No.” She never could sleep well when he was gone. There would be a pillow barrier, but she wanted him there.  

“Sleep in our room. Just don’t- don’t touch me. I still need my space right now. I am angry and haven’t come to terms with it yet.”

“I am very-“ Y/N cut him off. Apologies weren’t going to fix this. She wanted him to take back the words, but even if he did, they would be an echo in the back of her mind.

“I swear if you say sorry one more time I will leave.”

She walked to their room in the dark pulling out the bobby pins holding her hair up.  Druig stayed in the kitchen eating the food she gave him. By the time he was in the room Y/N was in bed holding a pillow to her chest. Face buried in it. She put pillows up by her side so her back was facing Druig and he couldn’t touch her.

The bed dipped when he laid down. He faced her wanting to say something because he was stubborn. He could use his powers on her but that was a line that he wouldn’t cross. In fact, he would beg her to break up with him if he ever did something so despicable.

Y/N laid there for hours listening to his soft snores. She couldn’t sleep, the words were playing over in her mind like some personal horror movie.  She got up and made her way to the living room.

Sitting on the couch she stared out the window with a blank look. Eventually the tears she thought would never fall did. At first, they were slow before she let out a sob. She buried her face in the closest throw pillow not wanting to wake him up.

That hope was lost though, because the lights flicked on. He was kneeling in front of her. His heart shattered at the sight. It was all his fault.

“Baby can I touch you? Please?” He begged. Desperate to comfort her.

She nodded, needing the comfort he could give her. His warm hand rubbed circles on her back.  

“You are not those words I spoke.”

At those words Y/N turned her face to look at him. Another tear trailed down her cheek. Druig caught it with his other hand.

“Then why? Why did you say them?” She whispered, closing her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to I was tired and took my frustration out on you. I never should have; I should have had better control over my emotions. I will never say those words to you again.” His fingers tangled in her hair thumb moving up and down her cheek.

“You are my beautiful darling and I will grovel for this till we die.”

Y/N nodded slightly. She stayed silent and more tears fell.

“Please.” That word held a lot of emotion creating a thick cloud around her heart. “Tell me what to do to make this better.”

“Tell me you love me. Make those words go away.”

Druig smiled. He told her that all the time because he did love her. More than he thought he could love anyone. She was the reason he kept going.

“Y/N I love you and you are the best thing to happen in my eternal life. You are the reason I keep going and haven’t lost full faith in humanity. You are my everything…my world.  I didn’t mean those words and will never mean words like that.”

She reached out to him silently asking for a hug. Which he obliged pulling her close. She buried her face in his neck inhaling. She fit there like he was made to hold her. As if his existence was to comfort her and make her happy.

“I am still mad you” She murmured. Druig chuckled his breath fanning the crown of her head eyes closed holding her tighter.

“Completely fair my love. Just know I love you.

A sniffle came from Y/N before murmuring. “I love you too.”

[phantomchick]

The ending of Oshi no Ko vs The beginning (chapter 166 vs 10)

So as you can see, there's clear evidence of intentional parallels happening here. This is the aftermath of Ai's death that mirrors the aftermath of Aqua's. Aka already claimed to have the ending planned well in advance months ago so it's not a big surprise that even the ending panels of the first (not counting the prologue) and last chapters match.

And yet Oshi no Ko still falls flat despite fulfilling its promise of a revenge-tragedy.

I think the biggest problem it has is the way the last chapter tells us instead of shows us as chapter 10 did.

Yes chapter 10 also used narrative text boxes a lot, but I argue that the effect then was much more immersive.

With them being used with precision to move us through a time skip with only the most necessary information about the fall out for the characters, even the distance had the effect of doing characterisation work with Aqua describing in a narrative text box how the policemen hid the scene from Ruby but Aqua felt his mother's body going cold beneath him as they arrived - this use of the text boxes casual tone over child Aqua sitting in his dead mother's lap gave a sense of disassociation and shock to the scene.

Even the textboxes turning black to mirror Aqua's dark emotions concerning his revenge as the star in his eye turned black showed how much attention was being paid to their use.

Ruby.

Ruby felt much more real in chapter 10, her rant about the internet's callous response to Ai's murder felt real and emotionally charged. In comparison, for all she's the main subject of the last chapter, she feels like a 2d cut out of herself, barely in there for all we see her struggling through Akane's observant gaze.

She expresses her motivation to be an idol despite hardship by acknowledging that Aqua's right about idolwork being difficult and cruel but reminding him that despite the darkside of the entertainment industry, their mother 'shone' very brightly. The talk about how Ruby shines more the darker things get and how this is a good thing because it reaches out to people trapped in darkness of their own (just like her when she was a terminally ill cancer patient) is clearly meant to echo this idea.

Frankly it fails.

Ruby feels hollow.

To the point where we barely get any insight into Ruby's real feelings at all or any emotional connection with her in comparison, by 166 it's genuinely unclear whether or not she's lying even to the portrait of her dead family when she's 'alone' on her way out the door.

We don't see a conversation between her and her adoptive mother about Aqua, we don't see her talking to Akane at all. We see her grief and her success from a deified distance, just like the fans do. And it alienates us from the character.

Lies are love and she has two stars in her eyes. Just like her mother did.

I think this more than anything condemns the idol industry, she has to keep lying even to herself about her job being fun because otherwise what was all that pain and suffering and loss for?

Aqua died in a murder-suicide (shout out to Taiki for experiencing a loved one doing this twice, poor guy) to give his little sister success in a job that she has to get up at 5.30 for, devote her entire youth to and will have to quit in less than a decade. It has to matter, that she provides escapism for people who are suffering like she did, but it doesn't change the grim reality of her exploitation.

I think the lack of dialogue in the final chapter and the loss of voice for Ruby in the last few arcs mirrors the loss of agency she experiences as she becomes the ultimate idol, everyone's star.

But that doesn't change the fact that from a reader perspective it's just bad writing. Aka failed to carry his audience with him to the finish line and his messages about the idol industry were blurred by the rushed plot after the movie arc began.

If it weren't for Mengo's art hard carrying the clumsily executed story, I can honestly say that I don't think many would have read this manga all the way to the end.

[mischiefmaker615]

Take Me to Church

Inspiration: "Take Me to Church" by Hozier

Summary: Even a god can worship..

Requester: @slytherinqueen4life

Rating: R

Loki’s POV

Those eyes.. those eyes hold far more cruelty than I ever had in all the nine realms..

So much power.. power I could never ask for, for they demand submission.

My submission..

Her beautiful hair fell over her shoulders, framing her gaze while she kept me beneath her. Her nails dug into my shoulders, indicating through strength just how much she was taking me in.

I could watch her all day..

How she dragged herself up and down while I felt every inch of her grip me like a vice. I knew what she was doing, and gods knew how long she’d keep me over this cruel edge before she’d decide for when I could fall..

‘’Norns..’’ I breathed out, barely a whisper while my hips bucked instinctually up now and again and would earn myself another squeeze of her cunt. Gods she could ride me all day I’d still never tire..

And just before I could feel that heavenly state of bliss, her cruelty would begin again and she would seat herself down on my cock, rendering me immobile once more while I remained with her cold chains around my wrists. Gods knew I could break these, easily, but there was something about her.. her fierceness, her power, her domination that kept me from taking control.

She could have It all if it pleased her.. that’s all I could live for..

She would wait until she had me fidgeting, aching to rut into her again but I knew better than to move. Rewards were far but oh so worth the wait. As my eyes closed, willing patience once more before she decided to move her hips again- she removed herself entirely from my cock.

Confusion more than anything had me raise my head to look upon her, fully prepared to beg if I needed to for her to return and sheath my cock once more- but she had different plans.

Her knees brought her up my body, her dainty yet capable hands helping her along while she crawled to my gaze, her own piercing mine.

Gods yes.. just as I find myself struggling often to predict her next move, this one I found myself guessing easily..

Eagerly..

My nails dug into my palms, willing myself to remain patient, even while my mouth watered in demand. My cock hardened impossibly more and my muscles tensed to remain still.

Her knees finally.. finally planted themselves beside my head, and yet she still cruelly waited until she found me fidgeting once more.

Damn her sometimes..

But one found no room to complain when their mouth was busy.

I found hear her nails digging into the fabricated headboard while my impatient breaths fanned her cunt. Her thigh muscles tensed and I dared wondered if she was as desperate as I was while she kept up her cruel game.

Norns let me give you my life if you grant me this very moment to worship you in the bedroom.. to hold onto my promises I’ve vowed when you’ve so diligently and deliciously broke yours..

But not this one..

She finally sank herself down, a mix between a sigh and a gasp leaving her lips when her cunt enveloped my tongue. She began to slowly pull herself up, only to sink herself more onto my muscle I kept upward for her.

The mere taste of her had me humming against her flesh, the vibrations enough to earn me a faster pace while her hips began to tilt and sway back and forth. This action allowed her to use the tip of my nose to grind against her clit, the part of her I would help myself whenever she would offer it to my lips. Now and again she would oblige, grant for mere moments of mercy where I would lift my head up eagerly to suck upon her swollen bud and caress it with my tongue.

I could die like this.. gladly suffocate with her thighs pressed against my cheeks and her scent intoxicating my senses..

Another moan of pleasure from me would give another level of speed from her. Her legs would begin to shake while she would switch her position to where she so desperately needed me. Once she would remove her bud from my lips she would then hump it against my nose, indicating how much she needed my tongue inside her before she would switch off again.

My tongue couldn’t get any deeper in her- despite it’s attempts to reach her soul. It would desperately thrust up into her, acting as the one part of me that remained at attention for it’s turn.. but not now.. this was her pleasure, and she was going to take it..

Another moan left my lips, already feeling her walls began to flutter while I caressed her entrance, having found out just how close she was before she quickly moved her clit back to my mouth with a failed attention to hide what I already knew.

I knew what she wanted and how she would end this.

With desperate pants leaving her mouth, I felt her fingers glide into my hair, helping to lift my head and press my face more into her cunt while she weighed herself more upon her knees in an attempt to get closer. I ate like I was a starving man with the idea that only her essence could revive me from Hel’s torment..

With just the beginning of her moan, I was ready for her and she drew herself up quickly before my tongue shot right into her core, my nose and mouth pressing up into her with eager movements, I had her coming with a cry.

She was mewling upon shaking limbs, my name flowing from her lips as if I were the one to have dominated her..

With a single sound of a click, I could feel my arms sink into the mattress once she’s released me from my bounds. Her game was over, she was raising her white flag and recovering from battle while I feel her legs muster enough strength to raise herself from my mouth.

This wasn’t over.

Upon her surrender my hands instantly flew to her hips, stopping her in her tracks as she even dared flex a muscle to dismount from her perch. Her breath hitched, showing she had taken on a sudden confused state but she and I both knew that once she resigned, I was back in control and therefore making sure she planted herself back onto my face and stayed there until I have had enough.

Her moans and cries fell upon deaf ears.

 She’s brought me upon her religion and I fully intended on committing until I am at her mercy once more and begging for salvation. As cruel as she may be out there, behind these walls she’s granted me heaven.

So let me worship.. and take me to church..

(perhaps a failed attempt at being poetic but my brain demanded his POV on this one Lol)

(DM a song for your own Musical Mischief Loki one shot :D )

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @gemini-serpentis

[lovezbrownies]

Spare me. (Yandere!Chief of Police x GN!Reader.)

General Masterlist - Grim's Masterlist

Synopsis: Grim Ludenhart has always turned a blind eye to his sister's cruelty of her poor spouse, until his own spouse gives him a piece of their mind of how they feel about his and his sister's behaviour does he do something. Request here.

Warnings: Gen Ludenhart, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, Grim beige flag, Gen breakdown.

Gen leaned back in her chair, a smug grin curling on her lips as she toyed with the glass of wine in her hand. "You should see them," she said with a low, satisfied chuckle, her voice dripping with condescension. "So pliable, so easy to mold to my every whim. It’s almost pathetic how much they’ll bend for me. I can twist them however I want, and they just—" She paused, savoring the moment, her eyes glinting with malice. "—they just let me." Her words hung in the air like a venomous cloud, her smugness evident in the way she casually leaned back, oblivious to the storm she was brewing.

You were standing just behind Grim, who had his jaw clenched so tightly you could hear the faint grinding of his teeth. Your fingers curled into fists, a sickening feeling rising in your chest. You’d heard enough, seen enough of Gen’s treatment of her spouse to know this wasn’t just idle boasting—it was cruel, deliberate manipulation. And the fact that Grim, your Grim, had been allowing it... letting her get away with it... it felt like a slap to the face.

When the door slammed shut behind them, the tension in the room snapped like a taut wire. You barely held it together, stepping forward with your heart pounding in your chest. "How could you?" you spat, voice breaking as the raw fury spilled out. Grim’s face turned pale, the weight of your accusation hanging over him like an oppressive fog. "How could you just stand by and let her do that? To them?" Your words faltered, disbelief giving way to fury as you pointed a shaking finger toward the door where Gen’s voice still echoed in your mind. "You’re their protector, Grim. And you allowed her to treat them like that. How long have you been letting her break them?"

Grim’s eyes flickered, a flash of guilt and something darker hidden beneath the surface, but he didn’t speak right away. You could feel his discomfort, his internal struggle, but it only made you angrier. "I—" he began, his voice low and measured, but you were done listening.

"No," you interrupted sharply, your voice trembling with the weight of the betrayal. "I don’t want to hear your excuses. You let her do this. You watched as she twisted them into something they’re not, and you did nothing." You shook your head, almost in disbelief, your chest heaving with emotion. "You knew this was happening. And you didn’t stop it. How can you be okay with that?"

For days, you gave Grim the cold shoulder. You ignored him at every turn, only speaking when absolutely necessary, and even then, your words were sharp, brief. The silent treatment was your armor, a shield against the overwhelming hurt and betrayal you felt. But you never let it show in front of the kids, Siolis and Red. You smiled at them, played with them, made sure their world remained untouched by the storm raging inside you. You didn't want them to see the cracks in your family, not yet. They were too young to understand the depth of what was happening between you and Grim. So you kept up appearances, only in the quiet corners of the house did you allow your frustration to consume you.

Grim, for his part, tried to maintain a sense of normalcy. He’d ask how your day was, speak softly, as if hoping to coax a response, but you gave him nothing. Each time he tried to reach you, you shut him down with silence or an icy glance that told him everything he needed to know. It was a slow burn, watching him try and fail to bridge the distance between you. He was used to being the one in control, the one with the power to influence the situation, but here, in the silence of your shared space, he was powerless to fix what had broken.

The kids never asked questions, though Siolis, in their innocent way, did notice the tension. They’d tug at your sleeve and offer you a crayon or a drawing to distract you, their bright eyes looking up at you with worry. Red, a little older and more perceptive, would sometimes catch you staring out the window with a distant look, but they didn’t push. They trusted you both to figure it out. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain. They were still too young for the harsh realities of adult conflict.

But it wasn’t just about the silence. It was about the feeling of betrayal, the weight of it pressing down on you every time you looked at Grim. He was your partner, the one who should’ve protected his spouse, but instead, he’d allowed Gen’s cruelty to continue. You could see it in his eyes—the guilt, the regret—but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for you to just hear apologies. You needed action. You needed him to make things right.

It was that final night, when the house was quiet and the children were asleep, that Grim finally broke. You sat in the living room, facing the fireplace, the warm glow of the flames doing little to soften the distance between you. Grim entered quietly, his footsteps hesitant. "Please," he said, his voice raw, strained with emotion. "I’m sorry. I never should have let this go on for as long as I did. You’re right... I failed you, and I failed them." He knelt down in front of you, his hands clasped together, eyes begging for forgiveness. "I’ll do anything. I’ll fix this, I swear. Just... tell me what you need from me."

You turned to face him, your gaze hard, but behind it was a flicker of something else—something raw, something wounded. "I need you to arrest Gen," you said, the words coming out in a slow, deliberate breath. "Free her spouse from her grip. Put an end to this, once and for all." You watched as Grim’s expression shifted, his shoulders slumping in relief, but he didn’t hesitate. He nodded, his voice steady now. "I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it. I’ll make sure she can’t hurt them again."

Grim leaned forward, his face inches from yours. "I’ll do whatever it takes," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I’m so sorry." And before you could stop him, his lips pressed gently against yours, an apology in that kiss—a kiss that spoke of regret, of broken promises, but also of a chance to heal. You kissed him back, just once, softly, feeling the weight of everything between you shift, just a little.

The atmosphere inside Gen's mansion was suffocating, thick with anticipation and tension as the police and soldiers moved swiftly through the rooms, clearing each space with military precision. Grim’s heartbeat thrummed in his chest, each beat heavier than the last as they approached the heart of the house—the main sitting room where Gen would inevitably be. He could hear the distant sound of glass clinking, a faint laugh, and the quiet click of heels on marble floors. She was there, waiting for him. She knew he was coming, knew this day would come, but Grim wasn’t prepared for the raw surge of emotions that washed over him as they neared the room.

He gave the signal, and the door was kicked in, the force of the officers bursting into the room echoing through the empty hallways. Grim stood at the threshold, eyes locking on Gen, who was lounging casually in an armchair, a glass of red wine in hand. For a moment, she looked completely at ease, as if nothing had changed. She was so calm, so sure of herself, that it almost made Grim question his resolve for a fleeting moment.

Her eyes flicked toward the group of armed officers, and then her gaze fell on him. The corners of her lips curled into a smile, a slow, predatory grin that sent a shiver down Grim’s spine. She had been expecting this. But as her eyes met his, the smile faltered just a fraction, as if she sensed something in the air had changed. For the first time, there was a trace of uncertainty in her gaze. And then, it happened. Her calm demeanor cracked, and her expression transformed into something raw—something unrecognizable.

"Grim?" Her voice was smooth at first, almost coaxing. "What’s all this? You know you don’t have to do this." She set her glass down with an exaggerated slowness, her eyes never leaving him. "You’re not really going to do this, are you? Not to me." She stood up, her voice trembling with disbelief now, eyes narrowing in confusion. "You betrayed me?" she whispered, the words more like a question, her face showing the first real sign of shock.

Grim didn’t respond. His hand hovered over the cuffs at his belt, his jaw clenched. The weight of what he was about to do settled on his chest, but his resolve hardened. He couldn’t back down now. Not for her, not for anyone.

"No, Grim, you’re making a mistake," Gen continued, her voice rising now, cracking. She took a step forward, eyes frantic, reaching out as if she could somehow pull him back, make him change his mind. "You’re letting them fill your head with lies. They don’t care about you the way I do, you know that. You’re family, Grim! Don’t do this!" She took another step closer, her voice desperate now, almost pleading. "You’ll lose everything, you’ll lose me."

Grim stood still, his eyes unblinking as he watched her movements. This was Gen—always the manipulator, always so calculating in her approach. But this time, something was different. She was losing control, and it made her dangerous in ways that Grim wasn’t sure he could handle. He watched her, cold and detached as she came closer, until she was standing before him, so close now that he could feel the heat of her breath.

Her voice dropped, soft and almost broken. "Grim… please," she whispered. "You can’t… You can’t do this to me. You can’t just let them take me away. You won’t. You’re my brother. Please." Her hands reached for him, fingers trembling as she tried to place them on his chest, her face begging for him to see reason. For the first time, she wasn’t the confident, dangerous woman he knew. She was a frightened, desperate version of herself.

And that was when Grim felt it—the smallest crack in his heart, the briefest flash of doubt that almost made him falter. But he squashed it down, forcing his emotions back into the cold, compartmentalized place where they belonged. He had no choice.

With a deep breath, Grim snapped the cuffs from his belt, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light as he reached forward to grab her wrist. "It’s over, Gen," he said quietly, his voice thick with finality.

She froze for a moment, looking up at him with wide, incredulous eyes. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her entire body seemed to go still as if the realization of what was happening was just now sinking in. "Grim," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please... You can’t. You can’t arrest me. You’re my brother. You’re supposed to protect me."

The words stung, and for a moment, Grim hesitated. This was Gen—the sister he had known for as long as he could remember. She was family, and nothing about this felt easy. But the pain in his chest wasn’t just from her manipulation. It was from the knowledge that what she had done to her spouse, what she had done to him, could no longer go unpunished. He had no choice.

"I’m not protecting you anymore," Grim said, his voice cold and firm. "You’ve gone too far."

Gen’s face twisted, her expression morphing from shock to fury in an instant. "You traitor!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she shoved him with all the strength she could muster. "I’ll make you pay for this, Grim! I’ll make you all regret this. I’ll have my revenge! You’ll see, you’ll all see what happens when you turn your back on me!" Her body shook with the force of her rage as she flung herself at him again, her eyes wild with hatred.

Grim stood unmoving as she struggled against him, but the anger in her voice only fueled his determination. He caught her wrist in one hand, forcing it behind her back as he clicked the cuffs around her trembling wrists. "You’re done, Gen," he said quietly. "You won’t hurt anyone else."

As the officers moved in to restrain her further, Gen’s screams filled the room. "You will regret this, Grim!" she howled, her voice raw with fury and betrayal. "I’ll make you suffer for this! You’ll lose everything!"

Grim didn’t look back as they led her away, her voice still ringing in his ears. The weight of the situation crushed down on him, but he couldn’t look back now. He’d done what was necessary. He had made his choice.

And in that moment, as the sound of her screams faded into the distance, Grim’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice. But he knew he’d never be able to forgive himself if he hadn’t.

Grim stood in the center of the mansion, the soft hum of the lights in the large, empty space doing little to calm his thoughts. The raid was a success—Gen was in custody, her reign of manipulation and control finally over—but Grim’s mind wasn’t settled. Not yet. Not until he found them. His spouse’s demand echoed in his mind like a mantra: Save them. Save Gen’s spouse. He had to. His loyalty to them had always been unquestionable. But this was more than just a duty now. It was personal. Gen’s spouse had been suffering under her cruelty for too long, and now it was Grim’s responsibility to ensure their safety.

Grim’s boots clicked against the marble floors as he paced through the house, eyes sharp, scanning for any signs of where they might be hidden. His team had already moved into position, systematically sweeping the mansion. But no one had seen Gen’s spouse. No one knew where they were. He couldn't afford to waste time; he had to find them. There was no more room for error.

Grim turned toward the group of servants he had gathered in the grand hall, each one standing in stiff silence, their faces wary but defiant. He had already spoken to a few, but Reina had caught his attention. She was younger, probably in her early twenties, and had always been loyal to Gen. Her quiet demeanor had made her a reliable presence in the mansion, but Grim knew better than to trust appearances. If she knew anything about where Gen’s spouse was, he wasn’t leaving without that information.

He stepped forward, his gaze locked on Reina. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice low but filled with an edge that had every person in the room standing at attention. Reina flinched, her hands tightly clasped in front of her, but she didn’t look at him—she couldn’t meet his eyes.

"I—I don’t know what you mean, sir," Reina stammered, her voice betraying her nerves. "I—I don’t know where they are. Please, I—I’m just a servant here. I don’t have anything to do with what’s been happening."

Grim’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. He was accustomed to interrogation, accustomed to pressure, but this wasn’t just about getting answers—it was about saving someone. About making sure no one else would suffer under Gen’s thumb again. "I know you know more than you’re letting on," he said sharply. "You’re going to tell me where they are. Now."

Reina swallowed hard, her eyes darting nervously toward the other servants. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—fear, loyalty, guilt—but it was too late for hesitation. Grim had no time for it. He had made a promise to his spouse, and he would see it through, even if it meant breaking Gen’s loyal servants one by one.

"Please," Reina whispered, her voice cracking under the pressure. "I’m not a part of this. I can’t—"

Before she could finish, another servant, a middle-aged man named Tomas, spoke up from the back of the group, his voice low but urgent. "They’re in the basement," he muttered, avoiding Grim’s piercing stare. "Down in the old storage rooms. Gen kept them locked up. She didn’t want anyone to find them." He paused, eyes flicking between Grim and Reina, as if bracing for the consequences of his words. "I... I had no choice. I couldn’t protect them any longer."

Grim’s heart lurched in his chest as the information hit him. He didn’t waste another second. "Take me to them," Grim commanded, his voice firm, and without another word, Tomas quickly led the way. Grim followed, his mind racing as they descended deeper into the mansion. The air grew colder, the narrow hallway lighting flickering ominously above them.

As they reached the old storage room at the back of the house, Grim’s stomach tightened. The door was locked, but it didn’t matter. With a single, swift motion, he broke the lock with a swift strike from his boot. He pushed the door open to reveal a small, dimly lit room—barely furnished, the walls cold and unwelcoming. And there, huddled in the corner, was Gen’s spouse. They looked up in surprise as the door opened, eyes wide and fearful, their face pale from the lack of sunlight.

Grim's heart clenched at the sight. Their spouse had been through hell. Their eyes were distant, hollowed out from the pain and neglect. But when they saw Grim, there was a flicker of recognition—an acknowledgment of him, even if their mind couldn’t quite process the situation yet.

He stepped forward slowly, his voice soft but filled with urgency. "I’m here to get you out. You’re safe now. We’re taking you to the hospital. I need to make sure you’re alright."

Gen’s spouse didn’t respond immediately. They blinked, almost as if they didn’t quite believe him, but slowly, they allowed Grim to approach. They were weak, both physically and emotionally, their body trembling as he helped them to their feet. They weren’t able to walk without support, and Grim’s heart tightened further as he gently guided them toward the exit.

The team outside was already waiting, ready to provide medical assistance. Grim had arranged for an emergency vehicle to take Gen’s spouse to the hospital for a full check-up—physically and mentally. The journey to recovery wouldn’t be easy, but this was the first step.

As they stepped into the car, Grim gave them a gentle look, his voice low but filled with promise. "We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. You’re going to be alright."

The car pulled away, and as Grim watched it disappear into the distance, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. It was over for Gen. But for her spouse, this was only the beginning of the healing process. Grim would make sure they didn’t have to face this alone. Not anymore.

Grim's fingers trembled slightly as he pushed open the door, stepping into the quiet solace of the home he’d been away from for too long. The house seemed to exhale in relief as he entered, the familiar scent of your perfume mingling with the earthy aroma of the candles you always lit to make everything feel warmer, more alive. The hum of the house was comforting after everything that had transpired. His muscles ached, his mind was clouded with the chaos of the raid, but there was something else gnawing at him—a deep, desperate need to be with you, to feel the comfort of your presence after everything.

As he rounded the corner and saw you in the kitchen, busy with dinner preparations, his heart thudded in his chest. There you were, safe, beautiful, unaffected by the storm that had raged through his life just hours before. You looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and the moment your eyes met, the relief that washed over him was overwhelming. Without thinking, without a word, he crossed the room, his arms reaching out for you, pulling you into the safety of his embrace as if he couldn’t stand the thought of being apart for another second.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin under his lips, inhaling the sweet scent of you that was always so calming. His arms tightened around you, holding you close, as though he could keep the world at bay if he just held you tight enough. The weight of everything—his sister, the raid, the fear for you, for everything—felt like a distant memory in this moment. All that mattered was you, here, safe in his arms. And for a moment, he allowed himself to lose himself in that feeling, the only thing that truly grounded him.

"I missed you," Grim murmured, his voice rough and quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment, make it vanish. He buried his face deeper into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His lips ghosted along the soft skin of your throat, pressing faint kisses there as he held you tighter. "It was so… exhausting…"

You turned slightly in his arms, your hands resting gently on his back, rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles there. You didn’t speak at first, just let him have his moment, knowing how rare it was for him to let his guard down. But as he pulled away slightly to look at you, his gaze was heavy with something you hadn’t seen in him before—vulnerability, uncertainty. His dark eyes locked with yours, filled with so many unspoken words.

"I—I don’t know what to say," he admitted softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he traced the curve of your jaw. "Today… today was hell. We raided Gen’s house. We—" He hesitated, his throat tightening as the memory of the scene replayed in his mind. The chaos, the violence, the fear for you, for his sister. Everything had been so much, so overwhelming. But standing here now, with you, he couldn’t hide it anymore. "I had to make a choice. I had to do what I thought was right." His voice dropped lower as he spoke, as if confessing something too raw, too painful to admit. "And I… I’m sorry if it was too much. But I couldn’t let her hurt anyone anymore. Not them and by extension you."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss, tasting the sweetness of your presence, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, that you were safe. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as he gazed at you with an intensity that made his heart ache. "I don’t know if I would’ve done this without you, “ he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with the weight of everything he hadn’t said. I… As much as I’d hate to admit it I would’ve turned a blind eye…I don’t want to be apart from you ever. You make me a better person."

There was a silence between you, a moment of quiet understanding as your fingers gently traced the contours of his face, the stubble along his jaw, the softness of his skin. You could feel the exhaustion in him, the strain from the day, but you could also feel something else—a longing, a need that had been buried under the surface for so long, just waiting for a chance to be released.

Grim pulled you closer again, pressing his forehead to yours as he sighed deeply. “God… They looked… Horrible. It… I…” His voice was barely above a whisper, each word laced with raw emotion, you shush him, sparing him from having to think about it any longer hands rubbing his back in comfort. His hands trembled slightly as they moved to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear any distance between you two. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his breath came a little faster, the way he melted into your touch, as though you were the only thing keeping him anchored in the world.

With one last tender kiss, soft and lingering, his lips parted from yours, but only slightly, as though he couldn’t bear the separation for too long. His forehead rested against yours again, his eyes closing for a moment as he just stood there, holding you, feeling the quiet rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his palms.

"Please don’t ever leave me," he murmured again, the words thick with longing, whatever he saw in there must have terrified him enough to plead for your stay, not like he needed to. His hands tightened around you once more, but this time, it wasn’t out of desperation—it was out of love. He needed you here, with him, by his side. For all the things he had done, for all the mistakes he’d made, this was the one truth he held onto: that you were his, and he would do anything to keep you. "I can’t do this without you."

You ran your hands through his hair, calming him, grounding him. You could feel the way his body reacted to your touch, the way he melted into you, his every word, every movement speaking volumes of the affection and devotion he felt for you. There was no need for more words. Not right now.

Weeks pass since that day Grim would reminisce as the soft rustle of the curtains brushed against his fingertips as he stood by the window, staring out into the peaceful garden. The house, once a place filled with tension and secrets, now felt warmer, calmer—a haven of sorts. His gaze softened as he watched his sister’s spouse sitting on the porch, their posture relaxed yet fragile, as if the weight of the past still clung to them. They had come a long way since that night, but Grim knew it wasn’t just the physical wounds that would take time to heal—it was the scars left by Gen, the emotional bruises that would linger for much longer. Still, they were here, safe, and the relief that washed over Grim was something he hadn’t realized he was craving until now.

He glanced over at his spouse, who stood beside his new friend, arms wrapped loosely around them, speaking in low tones that Grim couldn’t quite hear. There was a softness in the way they interacted, a gentle bond forming between them as they shared quiet words. His spouse’s presence had been a quiet strength in the chaos that had followed Gen’s arrest, helping both him and Gen’s spouse find a sense of peace amid the storm. They had been so understanding, so patient, in a way that helped Grim finally accept that he had made the right choice. No matter how much he had betrayed his own sister, he knew it had been for the best—for everyone involved.

Outside, his two children—Siolis and Red—were running and playing in the garden, their laughter echoing through the air as they chased each other around the colorful flowers and trees. Their innocence, their carefree nature, grounded Grim in a way nothing else could. He knew that even with the weight of everything that had happened, his kids were still young enough to experience life without the shadows of the past looming over them. It gave him hope. A chance at something resembling normalcy, something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time.

For a moment, Grim stood there, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired—the betrayal, the choices, the changes. But he couldn’t deny the peace he was beginning to feel, the sense of family he had built, despite everything. His friend now, no longer just a victim in his eyes, was now someone he cared for deeply, like a brother or sister he had never known he needed. They were part of his family now, and he would protect them as he did his own children.

Taking a deep breath, Grim stepped away from the window, the quiet peace of the scene calling to him. He knew it was time to join them, to embrace the family he was starting to rebuild. With one last glance at the garden where his kids were playing, he made his way to the porch, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The future, uncertain as it was, now felt just a little bit brighter. As he joined his spouse and friend, his heart settled, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together.

[kenmjiro]

ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ Scars and bad memories | Carl Grimes

Carl grimes (TWD) x Fem reader

TWS: angst, kissing, mention of child abuse

Carl was locked in his room throwing darts, he did this frequently since they let him out of the infirmary after losing his eye.

He was distant, he didn't talk to anyone except his father and Michonne occasionally, he didn't leave his room and that had me worried, I have come to see him every day, but he doesn't speak to me and barely looks at me

We had been together for 6 months before this happened, but I just don't know what will become of us anymore. It hurts me to see him like this, but I will continue fighting, because I love him and I will do everything possible to prove it.

With my legs trembling with nervousness I decided to go in, I wiped the sweat that was accumulating on my palms on my pants, I gathered my courage and pushed the door.

When I saw Carl with his back to me, he was throwing darts from the side where he had been shot, and there were no darts on the target, they had all hit the door and he seemed more and more frustrated and absent.

“What are you doing here again?” His voice sounded so cold and hard that for a moment I thought I had hit an ice barrier, and as soon as I could answer, a cruel lump of anguish had formed in my throat.

“I-I came to see little Judd.”

He didn't even look at me and continued throwing darts at him.

“She's in her room, so don't bother me.

That hurt me, but I'm not a weak girl and my duty is to help Carl, there's no time to get depressed.

“Talking to me like that won’t give you back your eye.” I knew that my comment would piss him off and I waited expecting the worst from him, that he would run me out of his room or yell at me, whatever he did to hurt me I didn't care, I needed to remove all that indifference that was consuming his feelings.

“You think I care? Go chase squirrels, you silly little girl.”

“No thanks, I already had lunch.” My sarcastic response seemed to bother him more and he began to throw the darts with more fury than before, but half of them hit the door and the rest fell to the ground.

“Do you remember when we met and I had a huge bow with me?”

“No." He cut me off abruptly, trying to silence me.

“You said it was impossible for a girl as short and skinny as me to have enough strength to shoot it, you made fun of me for days until she saw me shoot it.”

The memory seemed to have softened his bad mood; he stared vacantly at a spot on the wall and smiled imperceptibly.

“Yes, I still don't understand how you did it... You were tiny.” He gave a small, fleeting chuckle. "You still are."

Carl had spoken almost in a whisper, but since we were alone, that was enough for me. In the end he gave up throwing the darts and looked at the ground.

“I just needed my arms, correct posture...and an eye. “Carl turned around to look at me, he seemed angry, but at the same time I could see that I was getting to him.

“What are you getting at, y/n?”

“You don't need everything to shoot a bow, or a gun, or to throw darts, you just...you just have to have the way.

“Yeah? and when you lose an eye… what is the Y/n way?” Carl began to approach me in a threatening manner. " which ?!?"

“I can teach you.”

I raised my hand to caress his face, but he moved away from it as if my touch burned him.

“Oh yeah? Try it, see what you can do as a hunter.”

“First stand up straight, put one foot on the shooting line and the other behind.” With my hands I gently corrected his posture and pushed his leg so that it was aligned. “stand on your side and fix your target with your dominant eye.”

“You will say with the only eye I have left.”

His voice was bitter and sarcastic, but he was relenting.

“That's all you need, sheriff.”

I carefully took his throwing arm and told him to take it back to throw the dart, I left his side and he looked at me skeptical, but he threw, and it took him half a second to realize that he had hit right. the target. He hid his surprise and finally spoke to me without his tone of indifference and bitterness.

“Not bad hunter, now I understand how being so little you had better aim than dad.”

“You see, everything has its side... You just have to find it.”

He looked down so that his hair hid how heartbroken and sad he was, but he knew him better than I knew myself, he knew how he felt.

“And how do I find the side to this?”

She pointed to the side of his face where there was only a thick bandage.

I approached him calmly and hugged him, he didn't return the gesture, but his entire body was trembling.

“Why are you still looking for me?” His voice was barely a whisper full of pain. “I'm horrible, I can't force you to stay with me like this, please don't feel sorry for me and just leave.”

My heart hurt so much hearing his voice, so fragile, so vulnerable.

“I don't feel sorry, I love you. Please believe in me, we will get through this together, let me help you. ”

"You do not have to do it. “I’ll be fine alone… You don’t deserve to spend your life with a monster, full of scars and bad memories.”

My heart broke at his words, I separated from him and forced him to sit down on the bed in the room, it's time for me to show him my own scars, I calmly took off the blouse I was wearing and then the small tank top, leaving me only with a sports bra.

“Do you see this scar?” I said pointing to my stomach “When my uncle got drunk he was very violent, he tried to hit my mother, but she locked herself in her room and left me alone with him. "She was scared, and trying to escape I fell on a glass table... her blood must have scared him, because she left me lying there and walked away."

“and-I didn't-I had no idea…”

“and you see these marks here?” I took off the leather wrist guards I always wore. “A year before I found them I ran into a group of unpleasant people... Our leader made them angry and as punishment they handcuffed me and other kids to a fence and attracted the attention of some walkers so that our parents could see it, I I tore the skin on my wrists to free myself, I didn't even care about the pain, I just had to pull. And do you see this ugly mark?” I brushed the hair off my shoulder and showed him a large asterisk-shaped scar. “I had a small accident with Daryl when we went out to look for Beth, a guy tried to shoot me at point-blank range, luckily Daryl was able to deflect the shot and it didn't hit me.” in the heart as was his plan.”

“...Why didn't you ever show me all this?”

“Because I'm horrible... How could I expect you to love someone who carried only scars and horrible memories?” Carl looked at me bewildered and looked away.

“It’s not the same Y/n.”

“Of course... we are both full of scars and these remind us that we were stronger than what tried to kill us, we are survivors and this is our life... and I want to share my scars and my bad memories with you and I want you to you do the same. Carl, I love you and I want to experience all the good that is left in the world with you.” Without realizing it, I had walked until I was in front of Carl and I knelt down so I could look him in the face, my eyes were full of tears and my voice was shaking, “and don't think that you can decide for me, I want to be by your side... “Just… Unless you don’t love me anymore…”

He didn't let me finish and silenced my crying with a kiss. He knelt down next to me and kissed me passionately. His arms wrapped around me with strength and desperation. My cheeks were wet, but he didn't care. With his fingers he delicately caressed each one of my scars and I did the same.

“Of course I love you, forgive me for acting like an idiot, I…”

This time it was my turn to silence his lips, my entire body vibrated as the temperature rose, in desperation I lightly pulled his hair, wishing he would never leave me. When our lungs were begging for air we did not separate slightly, his lips were red and swollen from what had happened before, we both gasped to catch our breath.

“You know, it's very unfair that even with a scar like that you still manage to look so perfect.” Carl laughed lightly and leaned down to kiss my shoulder.

“Says the girl who, even with all her scars, looks like an angel.”

I blushed at his comment, it was always the same, he managed to take my breath away just with a phrase like that.

“Shut up and kiss me sheriff.”

“With pleasure, hunter. ”

The kisses continued just like the memories and the scars.

Even though we had both lost a part of ourselves and even though destiny had marked us, it no longer mattered to us, because being together we were finally complete.

[allybxtch]

The last sacrifice

bakugo x reader (angst)

the final battle between heroes and villains roared as an infernal storm. the air was loaded with dust, ashes and the acre smell of destruction. screams, explosions and the rumble of the powers facing themselves in a deafening chaos. Y/N, with his elementary manipulation quirk, was in the heart of this cataclysm, fighting side by side with his teammates to defeat Shigaraki and his sinister amalgam with All For One, now known as Shigarafo.

things had twisted in a way that not even the most experienced heroes had planned. Shigarafo seemed unstoppable, each attack absorbed and redirected with brutal efficiency. the heroes fell after another, and despair began to leak into the ranks.

Y/N, covered with dust and sweat, was looking for Katsuki Bakugo with her eyes. she knew that he was there, somewhere, giving everything of himself as always. she recalled the moments they had shared, their fights, their laughs, and that deep link that had united them as a couple and, although they were no longer together, love persisted.

suddenly, she saw he. Bakugo was throwing directly against Shigarafo, with a fierce determination and a desperate glow in his eyes. Y/N felt a knot in the stomach. Something was not right.

"Katsuki, no!" she shouted, her voice barely audible about the rumble of the battle. she threw herself towards him, using the air to boost and gain speed, but the debris and the flying attacks delayed her.

Bakugo was face to face with Shigarafo, his explosions resonated with almost deafening force. Y/N watched the scene on slow camera, every second stretching in eternity. Katsuki, in his typical challenging style, refused to go back.

—I’m going to kill you here and now!— Bakugo, his palms lit in a blinding shine.

—Pathetic— Shigarafo replied, his cold eyes and devoid of compassion.

Y/N arrived just in time to see how Shigarafo extended his hand to Bakugo. the explosion was deafening, but it wasn't Bakugo. the hero fell to the ground, his inert body and his shattered heart.

—KATSUKI!— Y/N shout was heartbreaking, a mixture of horror, pain and fury. the vision of Bakugo collapsed, his blood staining the ground, plunged her into an uncontrollable rage.

she ran towards him, falling on her knees next to him. —Katsuki, please look at me...— she reached his face with trembling hands, his blood staining her. His eyes were open, but empty. Life had escaped from him. Y/N felt her heart break into a thousand pieces, the pain was unbearable. —No, no, no...— she murmured, trying to deny the reality she had in front of her.

the control she had always maintained over her powers was broken. the air around her began to vibrate with a chaotic energy while manipulating fire, water, earth and air simultaneously. the earth shuddered, the fire roared, the water swirled and the air became a furious gale.

—You're going to pay for this!— Y/N shouted, her voice trembling with the intensity of her anger and pain.

Shigarafo turned to her, a cruel smile deforming her lips. —Do you want to join him in death, girl? I thought the heroes were smarter—

Y/N launched a massive attack, combining all her elements in a devastating assault. Shigarafo dodged it easily, counterattacking with a brutality that Y/N could barely handle. but she didn't stop. every blow received, every wound inflicted, only increased its resolution.

the battle between them was a whirlwind of power and destruction, both fighting with desperate ferocity. but the simultaneous use of all its elements began to take its toll on Y/N. her body trembled, her forces faltered, but she couldn't stop. she couldn't fail now.

—I won't let you win!— she shouted, throwing everything she had against Shigarafo. Her heart beat with a mixture of fury and sadness, prompting her to continue despite the pain she felt in every fiber of her being.

in a moment of distraction, she saw Nejire in danger. without thinking about it, she threw herself to protect her, receiving the blow destined for her friend. the sharp pain in her belly made her fall to her knees. she looked down and saw Shigarafo's hand going through her, the blood gushing out and staining her suit.

—No...— she murmured, the pain and weakness overwhelming her.

Shigarafo pushed her back, her laughter resonating in her ears. —Pathetic, just like him—

Y/N fell to the ground, her vision clouding. everything around her seemed to fade, pain and despair dominating her senses. she remembered the moments with Bakugo, his arrogant smile, his laughter, his determination. everything they had shared, everything they could never have.

—Katsuki...— she whispered, her voice barely a breath. she felt her life fading, the cold taking over her.

in the distance, she saw her companions fighting, the battle continuing relentlessly. but her eyes were only looking for Bakugo, hoping that, somehow, he would get up, that all this was just a nightmare.

the memories of their time together flooded her mind. the shared nights, the promises, the fights and reconciliations. everything he had meant to her, and everything she had lost in an instant.

the world around her became blurred, the sounds fading into a distant murmur. Y/N closed her eyes, clinging to Bakugo's image, his smile, his love.

in her last moments, a tear rolled down her cheek, mixing with blood and dust. —Katsuki... I'm sorry...—

and so, in the midst of the final battle, Bakugo's sacrifice and Y/N’s despair became a reminder of the brutality of war and the price of heroism.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hiii, this is my first time posting something I write. oh, also tell you that English isn’t my first language but i try my best

this is something about the last chapter of mha. you can tell me what you think, thank u (I’m sorry for the aesthetics, I don’t know much about that)

[simplydannie]

Previous: Part 1 || Part 2

A03 link here!

Floyd is called as everyone in Bergentown worries about Velvet….

The snarky, spicey girl they once knew replaced by this broken, fragile thing. Floyd figures it has something to do with her brother as she explodes at the mention of his name…

They both also discover that someone is on the hunt for her…but who?

Velvet hugged herself as she stared at the breakfast that lay infront of her. When they had given it to her it was warm, but that was about an hour ago…She wasn’t hungry, not one bit. It was probably what, a day since she’s had a proper meal?

Standing at the doorway of the dining area were Poppy, Branch…and Floyd. They stared at her in silence, observing her actions and movements. It was obvious, this wasn’t the Velvet they had seen back at the Rage Dome. That Velvet was fierce, determined, eager, uncaring….vicious. This girl in front of them was broken…

“Has she said anything?” Floyd looked at Poppy and Branch.

Branch shrugged, “She said she was done with Rageous; that she didn’t want anything to do with that place.”

“And Veneer?”

“She came without him…Told us not to worry about it.”

“…They’ve have to had a fallout…An argument…She did blame him for them going to prison….Maybe they went their seperate ways and misses him.” Poppy looked at Floyd and Branch.

“Really? Velvet missing Veneer. Maybe when Bergens fly.” Branch scoffed. Floyd nudged his brother, his face taking on a more serious dimenor… Floyd didnt find that funny…not one bit. Yes, she was hard, even cruel…but the reality of it all…she had deeply cared for Veneer, they were inseperable. So whatever happned to cause their fallout, it had to be bad.

Taking a deep breath Floyd made his way towards the Rageon. He hadnt seen Velvet in almost a year, the closer he got, the more he realized just how different she really looked: thinner, paler…lost. Her hair was not in its normal ponytail, it draped loose around her face, a purple beanie sitting on top. The Troll hopped on a chair then on to the table. He slowly approached her…

“….Velvet?”

Hearing his voice, Velvet looked up, their eyes meeting for the first time in a long while, “…Floyd. What do you want?” Her tone was cold and distant.

“I heard you were in town. I wanted to see you…see how you’ve been.”

She chuckled, “Yeah right. What the hell do you really want Floyd? Another apology? Well we already said our sorries and paid for it in prison, thank you very much.”

She was still the same old Velvet, that much was certain…the same yet different, “No Velvet, I don’t want an apology. I genuinely wanted to see how you were doing… The others…they’ve been…worried about you.”

“Worried?”

“…They have Velvet. You seem…different. Is…Is everything okay? You can tell us you know, talk to us…”

“HA! Talk to you guys. Please. I don’t need you little rats to be showering me with roses and songs.” She mimiced.

“Velvet please. We want to help with whatever happened. Obiviously you and Veneer had some sort of fallout…”

Her head snapped up at the sound the word…at the sound of the name… “What did you say….”

Oblivious, Floyd continued to speak, “You and Veneer, something happened between the two of you, that much we know….You’re always together.”

Her eyes. There was a glow to her eyes…the color changed from their normal blue tint into a pink hue. Velvet slammed her fists on the table, causing it rattle underneath her. Floyd jumped back at her sudden reaction, as he noticed the glow in her eyes, the anger behind them.

“DON’T YOU DARE MENTION HIS NAME!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. In a blink of an eye, Branch had made his way to stand next to Floyd. The two looked at each other; both confused, both lost, “NEVER EVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN! EVER! ESPECIALLY YOU FLOYD! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY IT EVER AGAIN!”

“….Velvet….” Floyd began to say as he reached his tiny hand. But the Rageon couldn’t bare it anymore….the tears began to fall.

“AHHHH!” She smashed the dishes of food against the wall. Velvet growled and stalked away back into her room. She didn’t need them seeing her like this…vulnerable. There was only one person who she had ever been vulnerable with…and now he was gone.

“Velvet!” Floyd cried out again.

SLAM!

The sound of the door being shut echoed throughout the halls…

The days went by….

Floyd remained in the Bergen castle keeping an eye on the young Rageon… something was wrong, he knew that much. Yes, Velvet was always one to blow a casket, one with a short temper, but at the mention of her brother’s name? That struck him odd. He was determined to find out what happened between them, what caused them to rift part, what caused her to come all the who out here…. Alone.

She didn’t want to be seen by anyone, yet she couldn’t remain in her room all the time. It was easier for the memories to come back in the quietness and loneliness, and Velvet couldn’t stand thinking about him right now….

So she’d do something she’d done back home… she’d sneak out the window. She’d leave only in the night when she knew everyone was asleep, when Bergentown was most empty. Velvet wouldn’t do much, she’d sit down on benches, climb the wall and stare off, take a small walk on the trail…

That evening in particular Velvet made her way through a small trail that took her to a hill that overlooked Bergentown. She sat down hugging her knees, the stupid purple beanie placed over her head… she allowed for silent tears to fall.

“What’s wrong?” She heard a voice say. Velvet turned and there next to her… was her brother.

“You should know what’s wrong… moron.” She sniffed and wiped her tears.

“You’d never tell me what was wrong. That was always the problem.” Veneer sat in a manspread on the grass staring out to the little town, “I see you finally made it.”

“Shut up…”

“It’s not that bad right? Sure maybe quieter than what we were used too, but I think we needed that change. Don’t you.” Veneer turned to smile at his sister. She only sat silent still hugging her knees.

“You’re wearing the beanie!”

“…. Why did you like wearing this stupid thing so much….”

“Cause it was dads.”

Velvet froze. She had forgotten… this belonged to their father once. Veneer so wanted to be like him, he loved him… she did once too. Why didn’t they run to him when they were in danger? Why did she have to convince her brother to do otherwise?

“….. why did you have to leave me?” She whispered, her tone so low, almost silent.

“Because, my journey was over. This is yours now.” He reached over placing a hand on her shoulder….she felt it, she could feel his touch…

When she looked, there was no one there, he was gone….

“Come back…. Please come back…. I can’t do this alone….” Burying her face into her knees she began to cry. Everything felt hopeless, she felt helpless…. She was alone…. Was she really though? Her father was still out there. Was he even looking for them? Did he even care?…. Should she go back?

“Velvet!” She heard her name being called out… she knew the little voice… Floyd. With a grunt she stood up and began walking off.

“Hey! Hey wait!” Floyd moved his tiny legs as quick as he could as Velvet stomped farther and farther away from him…

….Eyes had been watching her from the bushes. It had been used to track her scent. She was alone. She had been still, but then that little Troll came in and made her move. It waited, but a voice beaming from its collar ordered a command, “Kill that little Troll if it get’s in your way. Bring the girl now!”…..

“Velvet! Come on are you seriously going to have me follow! I’ve already walked a hundred miles right now.” Floyd began to loosen his breath. He heaved over breathing hard…his health really hadn’t been the same since the whole ordeal in Mount Rageous. With a heavy grunt, Velvet turned around and snatched Floyd up by his hair, “Woah! Hey! A little nicer would do.”

“If I am going to carry you, you’re going to shut up.” She demanded, placing him on her shoulder. Floyd looked at her as she treaded back to Bergentown in silence.

“….Velvet?” He began to say.

“Oh my gosh don’t! Don’t say anything. Don’t even ask anything, or i swear I’ll flick you off my shoulder.” She mumbled. Floyd quickly shut his mouth…. Perhaps right now wasn’t the time to mention anything…especially Veneer….

The hairs on his head quickly perked up, a chill going down his tiny, little spine. Velvet noticed his change in mood and stance…. Did he sense something?

“The hell is wrong with you?” She asked arching her eyebrow towards him, “I’ve never seen a Troll act like this before…”

“…..Something….isn’t….right….”

SWOOSH!

From out of the nearby bushes pounced a big creature: It’s color and spots-like a leopard, but it’s body and fur like that of a wolf, six legs coming out of it’s body, big huge fangs bearing at Velvet as it starred at her with glowing yellow eyes….she recognized this creature….she’d only hear about it and see pictures…

“…What the hell is one of these doing way out here?” She muttered. The creature launched at her. She screamed as she dove to the ground, the creature only missing her by mere inches. Floyd held on for dear life. He noticed the collar around its neck…it belonged to someone…

“VELVET RUN!” He yelled. Without a single hesitation or protest, the young got to her feet and took off running back to Bergentown. The creature leaped and took off in hot pursuit behind her. What the hell was she thinking? She can’t out run it. So Velvet reach out for branches and twigs, logs, brush, anything she can toss in its path to slow it down. Floyd turned to face behind, staring at the creature as it neared their heels.

“DUCK NOW!!” He screamed as it leaped towards her again. She screamed again as its sharp claws grazed her arm. She cried and winced in pain as blood began to trickle down, “VELS!” Floyd cried. She got up again and ran…She could see the Bergen gates ahead.

“Help! Help!” She cried as she saw some guards standing amongst the walls entrance. They heard her cries and noticed her desperation as they saw what was at her tail. They couldn’t risk opening the gate and letting that thing in. Tossing a roped ladder, they cried out to her, “HURRY UP!”

….Velvet panted as she began to run out breath. She let out a yell as she leaped towards the ladder, grabbing hold as they began pulling her up…Thankfully, that thing wasn’t much of a jumper…it wouldn’t be able to leap the Bergen wall. It tried, only barely scraping her foot as Velvet was pulled up to safety. The Bergen guards peeked over.

“What in the world?” One murmured.

“…Looks like it can’t jump…at least not this high…Go around the wall! Make sure everything is secure. That nothing can get in. NOW!” The chief commanded, “What the hell is that thing?”

“…..A Bandersnatch…” Velvet murmured holding her arm, “…I don’t get it…They’re only find in the woods near Under Rageous…how the hell did one get all the way out here?” Noticing her bleeding arm, some guards quickly ran for a first aid kit.

“It had a collar around its neck. Seemed pretty well groomed too.”

“What, that hell creature belongs to someone?” She looked down at the tiny Troll.

Floyd nodded, his face still twisted in thought, “Didn’t seem like we were in its territory either…Seemed really fixated on you too.” He looked up at the Rageon. Velvet stifled a laugh.

“What? Someone sent that thing after me? Ha!” Her smile faded as soon as it appeared as the memory of that day 3 months ago came to mind…The day he was….Was it possible that someone was after her? They weren’t able totally catch her, she ran off before they could, luckily making it out of the woods of the under-city alive…

“…Velvet? What’s wrong?”

She turned to look down at the little Troll. Should she tell them? Were they now in any kind of danger? After they bandaged her up, Velvet took a peek over the wall…there it was, the Bandersnatch still glaring up Velvet, waiting, thinking…plotting.

“Shit.” She murmured. Suddenly she gasped touching her head…The beanie!…It was still on her head. She sighed in relief…The beanie…The purple beanie that was once….

“….I need to make a call.” She looked up the Bergens.

“Sure. Follow me.”

Floyd looked at her, confusion across his face. He saw the Bandersnatch pace before finally lying down, staring intently at the wall…it was hunting, and he was sure it was hunting Velvet. He ran off towards the castle…

Velvet was led into the security room which contained a landline. She waited till she was alone, her hand hovering over the phone, her breath shakey, palms sweaty, “….Screw it….” She picked up the landline and dialed the number. She was hoping there would be no answer on the other line, but at the same time, she wanted to hear his voice, she wanted to hear something familiar again… Her and her brother were the only two to know this number. It was given to them long ago to use for emergencies…

“Velvet?” The voice sounded from the other side. She could tell there was a mix of fear and worry. Velvet didn’t respond, she wanted to hear him say her name again… “Velvet? Please tell me that it’s you…Please.”

“…..Hey dad…..” She finally said. Agitation flowed through her veins: she should be angry at her father, hate him. But here she was missing him, loving the sound of his voice, wanting him to hold her like he did when she was smaller…

“Where are you?”

“….I….I don’t want to tell you…”

“Dammit Velvet. Where are you? You’re in danger!”

….A moment of silence passed between them…. He finally spoke…His voice soft…

“….I found him…You’re brother…I also found the bastards who did it….”

“….What did you do to them?” She asked.

“They wont be making the same mistake again…EVER.”

“..Good…I wish i could’ve done that myself.”

“He’s home…He’s next to your mother now….I need you to come home too.”

“…I can’t…”

“Why not?”

“….Because…..Because….” I can’t be somewhere where he isn’t anymore. Everything is going to remind me of him…And I still haven’t forgiven you, is what she wanted to say…but she couldn’t, “…I just can’t dad…”

“Dammit Velvet you’re in danger. I have men looking for you outside around Rageous. How close are you? How far?”

“….I just…wanted you to know i was okay…I…I….”, I love you dad, and I’m sorry i couldn’t protect him.. “Bye dad.”

“Velvet!”…..

She hung up…

For the first time in her life, Velvet didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have a plan….her plan was to call her dad and tell him about what happened…but hearing his voice…it was different. Who was after her? What the hell did they want?…And were they the same ones that sent the goons after them? The same ones that killed her brother?

“Dammit! Dammit!” Vaughn pounded a fist against the desk as soon as Velvet hung up on him, “Why the hell did she have to take after me?” The number she had dialed had patched her through encrypted cell phone….He had done this for a reason long ago: if ever his children were in trouble, or they were forced to call him, that number would patch them through…and he’d be able to track them.

He looked up at the map that displayed on the screen, a red markings around the area the call originated from….

Why the hell was she all the way in Bergentown?

[starkidsonnets]

тоска (n.) tō-skə, see Nabokov

edward nashton drabble

| contains : light angst, attempted depiction of pure-o ocd, edward's depersonalization and emotional turmoil

| word count : 670

| note : edward sees a random chick minding her business on his way home from work and loses his sense of self over it. not that there was much there to begin with. not proofread !

It’s not truly sunny out; it hardly ever is in Gotham. The sun peeks through the thick clouds, though, and the skyline looms like a sentinel, shadows draping the streets in an embrace of muted hues. The air carries a hint of dampness — though, it isn’t terribly windy right now, either, it’s quite still this evening — serving as a reminder of the city’s whispers, secrets hidden in the cracks of the pavement.

It’ll rain soon, surely. But not now.

Although the walk from the subway station exit and his apartment isn’t far, Edward, like many others he’d assume, is grateful he isn’t walking home in the rain today. It’s just warm enough that, if it was raining, the droplets on his clothes and in his hair would him feel sticky and his clothes would cling to the slick of his sweat-soaked skin. But with that cool breeze, it might have also made him feel chilled and brittle, and he’d risk coming down with a cold. Lingering on what might have been will make you miss what is, Rene says.

Focus on the here and now, Edward.

Focus on your steps.

1, 2, 3, 4…

Don’t slouch, Edward. Keep your head up.

1, 2, 3, 4…

Keep it down, you might make eye contact.

1, 2, 3, 4…

But what if you bump into someone? Look up.

1, 2, 3, 4…

God, his chest feels tight. His hands feel sweaty. It stings to blink; when was the last time he blinked? Focus on blinking.

Focus on breathing.

In, out, in out…

1, 2, 3, 4…

Don’t forget to blink.

Focus on…

A white t-shirt. A green cardigan. A lace bra.

A blue polo. A pair of jeans. A little white dress.

Hanging from a clothes line. Who uses clothes lines anymore?

Her, apparently.

Laying in the grass, plucking clovers and daisies, lazily spinning them by their stems between her fingers. She looked sleepy as she laid in the dim ray of sun, watching her clothes ripple in the gentle breeze

She lay nestled in the soft embrace of the afternoon, the dim ray of sun spilling across her like a warm whisper. Her eyelids fluttered gently, heavy with dreams that danced just beyond her reach. The world around her breathed in rhythm with her own, the fabric of her clothes swaying like delicate petals caught in a lazy breeze.

Time seemed to stretch, each second dripping like honey, as Edward stood captivated by her stillness. She was an oasis, radiating tranquility in a world choked with decay. He couldn’t help but wonder how she had found this elusive peace. Did she see beauty where he saw despair? Did she embrace the chaos, wrapping it around her like a shawl, while he remained ensnared in his own turmoil? Her serenity was a cruel reminder of his struggle, a stark contrast that echoed in his heart.

Watching her, this— this mystical stranger—Edward felt the weight of his own anguish, heavy as the dark clouds that loomed overhead. She was the flower that thrived in adversity, while he withered in the shadows, longing for the light she seemed to hold so effortlessly. It taunted him, furthering the idea in his mind that he simply was not worthy of life as simple and pretty as laying in the grass and watching clothes dry.

He wondered, bitterly, longingly, what she had done to earn such peace.

Was she kinder than him? Softer than him? Gentler, prettier..? Did she count her steps, or remind herself to stand up straight or squeeze herself smaller when someone stood too close on the train? Did she have to focus on blinking? On breathing?

Does someone so seemingly weightless need to breathe at all?

Edward forced his feet to walk again just as she began to turn her head. He couldn’t bare to see her face. He couldn’t tell you why.

Focus on getting home.

You’ve lived the moment too deeply.

A moment that wasn’t even yours.

1, 2, 3, 4…

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter sixteen | my mercy prevails over my wrath

masterlist

pairing : battinson x fem!oc (can be read as x reader)

words : +4k

A/N : time to meet the Incel :)

previous chapter

MY MERCY PREVAILS OVER MY WRATH.

My mercy prevails over my wrath. My mercy prevails over my wrath.

Like a gentle river flowing over jagged stones, softening the edges of anger with its quiet touch, Maryam's mercy mirrors the myth of Persephone's return from the underworld—a bittersweet act that tamed Hades' darkness and brought renewal to a barren earth. It is the calm before the storm, a silent strength rising from deep within, soothing the fury that seeks to consume, much like how Psyche's love melted Eros' hidden sorrow. In its embrace, Maryam finds not weakness, but the power to choose forgiveness over vengeance, understanding over judgment, as Prometheus chose the fire of hope over the vengeance of the gods. 

It is, after all, the whisper of compassion that drowns out the roar of resentment, a light that flickers brightly, even in the darkest of storms. 

And in that light, Maryam is reminded that mercy, like love, holds the strength to heal what wrath can only break—an enduring myth of its own.

And so the words echo softly in her mind, rising like an incantation against the darkness. The same words her father once whispered to her in hushed tones, so long ago that she can barely recall the timbre of his voice, though the warmth of those moments lingers still.

My mercy prevails over my wrath.

The mantra repeats.

My mercy prevails over my wrath.

A sacred Hadith, her father had called it—a divine reminder that compassion, forgiveness, and hope are not signs of weakness, but profound sources of strength.

The words echoed through Maryam's mind, a steady rhythm that refused to fade. Had she been too blunt? Too harsh? Too unpredictable with Bruce?

She replayed their conversation in her thoughts, dissecting every word, every glance, every pause. Doubt began to creep in, coiling around her resolve. Mercy. Wrath. Wraith. Where did she stand? What did he see in her ?

Her guilt gnawed at her. Bruce had a way of looking at her—calm, unyielding, as though he could see the fractures she tried so hard to hide. She hated that look. It was too understanding, too patient, as if he saw past her barbs and coldness, straight to the girl she used to be before Gotham had hardened her edges.

But tonight, she had gone too far—or perhaps just far enough to undo everything. The flicker of hurt in his eyes haunted her, like a candle flame struggling against the wind, snuffed out too quickly by the familiar mask of stoic indifference he wore so well. 

Especially when she mentioned his parents. 

"Going out at night, beating up petty criminals. For what? Vengeance? For who? Your parents?"

"Would they have wanted this? To go down that twisted path? I didn't know them—but you did. So, you tell me."

The words tasted bitter as she recalled them, sharp and cruel in hindsight. It wasn't her place to say this. She knew it, and he knew it too. The way he had said her name after she blurted it out—"Maryam"—was all the proof she needed. 

Not the usual soft Maryam, not even Milou. It was clipped, cold, severing. A verbal knife that cut through the space between them.

Gone were those names, those anchors to their fragile intimacy. She had struck a nerve—deeply, unflinchingly—and Bruce, for all his walls and armor, could not hide it.

Not for the first time, no. She had tested his patience before, pried open wounds he had thought long buried. But this time felt different. Final. As if the thread tethering them together had frayed beyond repair, leaving only the jagged ends to mock what once was.

Her hand brushed absentmindedly over the spot where his lips had grazed her skin—an afterthought of a kiss, empty and mechanical. The gesture lingered like a phantom touch, mocking her as she climbed the creaking stairwell to her apartment. Each step echoed her regret, a hollow rhythm she couldn't escape.

He had said it himself, his voice as cold and unyielding as the Gotham rain that had drenched them both that night:

"I need you to be alright," he had murmured, the words breaking like fragile glass between them. His tone, low and almost broken, was a voice he reserved only for her—soft, careful, intimate. But this time, it felt different. Worn. Fractured. "And for that... I need to let you go. It's better this way."

It's better this way. It's better this way. It's better this way.

The phrase looped through her mind, relentless as a ticking clock, each repetition driving deeper into her chest. Was it better, though?

Her heart screamed the question, but no answer came, only the echo of his words blending with the sound of her boots against the damp stairwell steps. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. Crying would mean admitting he had broken something in her, something she wasn't sure could be fixed.

Don't, her thoughts snapped, commanding her like a voice separate from her own. He doesn't deserve your tears.

But then came the traitorous whisper, soft as a dying ember: Does he?

Because hadn't he always been the one to hold her steady when the ground beneath her crumbled? The one to catch her when she stumbled, even when she never asked him to? 

Hadn't he done everything right? He had been patient where others had fled, steady where she had wavered. He'd saved her—more than once—and stayed when there was no obligation, no reason beyond his own impossible sense of duty. He had insisted on protecting her, even as she threw up walls, spitting venom to keep him at bay.

And yet, he had walked away tonight. For her. For her.

The thought stung, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. He had given her what she never asked for but secretly craved—a chance at something deeper, something real—and now he was tearing it away. All because he thought it would save her.

She didn't know what hurt more: the ache of losing him, or the realization that he believed she couldn't be saved with him by her side.

And now, as she stood at the edge of her own undoing, she could see it so clearly—her mistakes, her cruelty, the ways she had twisted her fear into weapons to push him further away. Bruce had already been a fortress of stoicism, and yet she had built more walls between them, brick by brick.

Maryam was never liked that but only with the people she despite, yes, she was usually kind and understanding, but with him, she was stressed out at how he was acting with her, like no one ever had before, that she decided to be that bratty and mean person to ho.

And now, as she stood at the edge of her own undoing, everything came into sharp focus—the mistakes she could no longer take back, the sharp edges of her words, the armor of cruelty she had worn to keep him at bay. She had used her fear like a weapon, twisting it into barbs and walls that pushed him further away. Bruce, who was already a fortress of stoicism, had faced her endless defenses with quiet patience, never flinching. Yet she had added to the distance, brick by brick, until there was nothing left between them but shadows.

Maryam wasn't like that. Not with most people. She prided herself on being kind, on understanding others, on offering the compassion she rarely received. But with him, she had been different. Stressed by how he treated her—with care, with persistence, with a gentleness no one else dared to show—she had lashed out. As if trying to prove she didn't need it, didn't need him. She had chosen to become someone bratty, mean, and unyielding, simply because he saw her in ways no one else did.

And now, she regretted it all. Every sharp remark, every cold silence, every moment she had stolen from herself by refusing to let him in. She had spent so long keeping her gates locked that when she finally opened them, it was too late. Bruce had already turned away, retreating into his own shadows, leaving her to stand in the ruins of what could have been.

And she missed him. God, she already missed him.

Her vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as they welled up in her eyes. Red and raw, they clung to the edges of her resolve, daring her to give in. But she wouldn't cry. Not here. Not yet.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the keys, the cold metal biting into her skin as the hallway's oppressive silence wrapped around her like a second skin. Each breath felt too loud, her pulse thudding in her ears. Just as she thought she might drown in the quiet—

"Hey!"

The soft voice startled her. She turned to see Vera standing at the edge of her slightly ajar door, her pajamas rumpled, dark curls loose around her face. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, listening for Maryam's footsteps on the stairs. Vera—her neighbor, the woman who had dragged her to the Iceberg Lounge not long ago, begging for company on a whim that Maryam reluctantly indulged. That night had been a calculated move for her—a chance to dig up dirt on Vittorio Falcone, but it had yielded nothing. Nothing but the taste of failure and the growing chaos that followed.

The city had only gotten worse since then: the Riddler's cryptic terror, a serial killer preying on women, shadows that felt heavier than usual. She hadn't even spoken to Alma since the mayor's funeral, too caught up in everything that followed.

Maryam forced a shallow breath, steeling herself to look presentable. She could only hope her eyes weren't betraying her. If they did, she would lie.

"Hi, Vera." She forced a smile, her voice raspier than intended. Clearing her throat, she tried again, adding a faint laugh. "How are you? Haven't seen you since that... night."

Vera studied her carefully, eyes scanning her up and down, the concern evident in her knitted brow. "Are you okay?"

Maryam's breath caught, her hands instinctively tightening on her keys. "What?" she asked, too quickly.

Vera gestured vaguely, her gaze lingering on her face. "Your eyes. They're red."

"Oh—yeah. Don't worry!" Maryam let out a forced chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just the cold. You know how it gets."

For a moment, Vera hesitated, but then she smiled, her expression softening in understanding. "Tell me about it. It's freezing out there lately."

"Yeah," Maryam murmured, hoping the conversation would wrap up quickly.

But Vera lingered, shifting awkwardly in the doorway. "I, uh... I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I shouldn't have let you go back alone. I just... got caught up in the moment." Her voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Maryam immediately caught the discomfort and, hating to see others embarrassed, rushed to reassure her. "It's fine, really. If anything, I should apologize for leaving so early."

Vera shook her head, her smile a little shy but sincere. "You had your reasons, I'm sure. And I told you—it was okay if you wanted to leave."

Maryam nodded, offering a small, grateful smile. She turned the key in the lock, the door creaking open behind her. "Well... thanks."

"Of course." Vera's smile widened. 

The doctor offered Vera a faint, reassuring smile before turning to enter her apartment, the weight of the evening pressing on her shoulders. But just as she was about to close the door, Vera called out to her, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"Have you seen the new video about Bruce Wayne, by the way?"

"Who?" Maryam asked, her mind struggling to process the words. Surely, her ears were deceiving her.

"Bruce Wayne. It's been all over the internet! Over 13 million views right now. The Riddler just uploaded it an hour ago."

Bruce Wayne? The Riddler? What the actual hell was going on? It felt like the world was spinning in circles, and Maryam couldn't seem to catch a break.

"No, I haven't seen it," she said, a frown creasing her brow. "Oh my god, is it bad?"

"I don't know if 'bad' is the right word." Vera crossed her arms, a chuckle escaping her lips. "But it's definitely... something."

"Thank you for telling me. See you soon!" Maryam didn't wait for Vera to respond. She quickly clicked the door shut, the soft click of the lock sounding like a release of tension. She leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her eyes fluttered shut, the stillness of her apartment engulfing her as the silence felt like a balm to her troubled mind.

But then the news Vera had just delivered hit her. Without warning, she straightened up, her heart hammering in her chest. She tossed her bag onto the kitchen countertop and hurried over to the TV. The news was on, but they were only talking about the video—there were no visuals, just an anchor's voice repeating, "A new explosive video from the Riddler has just been published and already has millions of views..."

Maryam's stomach churned. This was bigger than she realized.

Her sisters had been texting her, and she'd left her phone silenced during her shift, missing every notification. And as the silence in the apartment deepened, she ignored the messages that flashed across her phone screen and instead opened her laptop.

Immediately, the headlines screamed at her: "New explosive video by the Riddler just published. Already over 13 million views..."

She didn't waste another second. 

With a click of the mouse, the laptop screen flickered to life, and she navigated straight to that video, her stomach was twisting with a mix of dread and curiosity when she found it.

She had to see it.

So, she clicked the link.

The video was there, in front of her—almost too easy to access. And as the screen loaded, she could already feel the tension creeping up her spine. 

This wasn't something small. This was something monumental.

The play button lingered on the screen, mocking her with its quiet presence. She hesitated, her teeth biting into her bottom lip, another finger poised above it, trembling slightly. The room closed in around her, the air heavy and suffocating. With one last breath, she pushed it.

The voice of Thomas Wayne echoed in her apartment, a ghostly whisper from a past that no longer felt so distant. "I'm Thomas Wayne, and I approve this message." The image of him flashed on the screen—his mayoral campaign from twenty years ago, the words "Thomas Wayne for Mayor" splashed beneath his confident smile.

The video shifted to an old clip of him with Martha and a young Bruce at the orphanage, all smiling. Thomas spoke warmly, his voice full of hope and pride: "From a very young age, my family, Martha's family, the Arkhams—instilled in both of us that giving back is not just an obligation... it's a passion. That is our family's legacy."

But then the image froze—stopping mid-sentence—and the cheerful music twisted, turning into something darker, unsettling. The tone shifted, sharp and threatening, as if the entire ad had been hijacked by something sinister. Vintage black and white photos of the Waynes and the Arkhams bled into view, their smiles warped and chilling as they slowly turned a sickening red.

The voice of the Riddler slithered into the room, twisted and altered by the voice changer, making every word feel like a shadow creeping over her skin. "The Waynes and the Arkhams—Gotham's founding families... but what is their real legacy?"

The photos deepened in color, until they seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. A newspaper headline suddenly flashed up: Reporter Uncovers Dark Secrets of Gotham's Elite.

"Twenty years ago, one reporter set out to uncover the truth..." The Riddler's voice slithered into the words. "...He found shocking family secrets."

Flashes of police and autopsy photos assaulted the screen. Each image colder, more grotesque than the last—sickening in its truth.

The Riddler's voice darkened. "How when Martha was just a child, her mother brutally murdered her father, then committed suicide... and how the Arkhams used their power to bury it all. What did they not want you to know?"

A death certificate appeared, its words Cause of Death: ACCIDENTAL standing stark against the screen. The words didn't sit right in her stomach.

The Riddler's voice turned ice-cold, a predator's whisper. "How Martha herself was in and out of institutions for years... and they made sure no one knew."

The camera shifted to a darkened institution, Arkham Asylum, the image grainy and distorted, its darkness almost suffocating. Through a rusted chain-link fence, a young woman struggled violently against nurses who tried to subdue her. Her face was obscured, but Maryam's pulse quickened, a sickening knot forming in her stomach. Was that her—Martha? Mrs. Wayne? The same woman she'd seen every Thursday on the subway, holding her son's hand, a book in the other, laughing softly as they joked together? The same elegant, poised woman, whose smile had always seemed so warm, so kind? The same woman who'd radiated charity and grace?

It couldn't be. But the image haunted her all the same.

The Riddler's voice continued to creep through her mind. "Thomas Wayne tried to force this crusading reporter into silence with hush money..."

The scene shifted to Thomas Wayne shaking hands on the campaign trail, a legal document spinning into view. The word HUSH! stamped across it in thick, red letters that seemed to bleed into the screen.

"But when the reporter refused..." The voice turned into a sneer. "...Wayne turned to his secret associate, Carmine Falcone—and had him murdered."

The screen exploded with the sharp, echoing sound of a gunshot, followed by footage of the reporter's lifeless body. The headline flashed across the screen: GANG-LAND STYLE EXECUTION. A photo lingered, a haunting image of Thomas Wayne and Carmine Falcone, standing together in a conspiratorial whisper.

She shook her head, her breath hitching as her cold hand instinctively crept to her throat, her skin prickling with unease. Anxiety gripped her, suffocating her. The world around her seemed to tilt, the weight of the question pressing down like a vice. God, was Bruce okay?

The thought gnawed at her insides, relentless and sharp. What kind of truth had she just uncovered? Was the man she come to know still the same, or had the darkness of his family's legacy already consumed him?

"The Waynes and the Arkhams..." The Riddler's voice was full of mockery now. "Gotham's legacy of lies... and murder..."

The screen cut to a campaign poster. 

The word MAYOR was slashed out with a heavy red mark. Instead, it read THOMAS WAYNE FOR MURDERER. 

"God..." The word escaped her lips in a whisper, her fingers tightening around the edges of the laptop like it could somehow anchor her in this sea of chaos. She clung to it, hoping the simple utterance would offer some shred of solace, but the weight of the moment only pressed harder against her chest. This was a catastrophe, a truth unraveling so violently, she could barely breathe. The world felt like it was splintering, and every piece of it pointed back to him.

Then, with a final, taunting laugh, the Riddler's face appeared, his eyes gleaming with malice. "One by one, Gotham's pillars fall... on Judgment Day, the wreckage will consume us all... GOOD byyyyyyyye..."

The video cut to black, the silence ringing in her ears. 

The apartment was suffocating, the air thick with what she had just seen. Maryam sat motionless, her hand clamped over her mouth as if she could keep the horror from escaping. The only sound now was the soft hum of the TV, its pale light flickering against her wide, staring eyes. The room felt colder, the darkness pressing in tighter, like the walls themselves were closing around her.

She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath until it caught in her chest, sharp and ragged. She couldn't move—couldn't look away. The  video, the dark secrets it had uncovered, gnawed at her insides, leaving a cold, hollow pit in her stomach. 

Gotham's past was no longer a mere collection of whispered rumors. It had clawed its way back into the light, bursting through every shadow that had once hidden its secrets.

All the research she had painstakingly gathered about Bruce and his family—the fragments, the missing pieces—were here, laid bare before her. But she wasn't surprised. Not really. 

Who would be?

He was a billionaire, after all. The Waynes didn't build an empire on charity and goodwill alone. No, their wealth was forged in darker places—through the sweat and blood of others. 

There was no way a family as rich as theirs had gained their fortune through clean hands.

But what the Riddler had revealed about Thomas Wayne—it was... unsettling. So out of place. Thomas Wayne, the same man she'd seen in the subway, so loving toward his wife and son, so devoted to them. She had envied that love, the way Martha smiled at him, the way Bruce looked up at his father with the kind of reverence only a child could have for the person who shaped their world. 

It was the kind of love Maryam had longed for, the kind of love she had hoped she'd one day receive. The same love Bruce had given her, just hours ago. Soft words, a gentle kiss on the hand, whispered promises in the dark.

Maybe it was all a lie. 

A carefully constructed facade. But something still didn't sit right. She couldn't shake the feeling that there were pieces missing. And she knew better than to take anything at face value—not when the Riddler was involved, not when so many questions remained unanswered.

She needed to talk to Bruce. Desperately. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter at the thought of him watching that video, seeing the past unfold in such a brutal, public way. 

What would he do with that kind of truth? Would he break? Would he spiral?

She just needed to hear his voice. She had to know he was okay.

Maryam couldn't even bring herself to judge him. Why would she? To do so would be hypocritical. Her own maternal family wasn't exactly a shining example of perfection. Far from it, actually. She had seen enough dysfunction in her own bloodline to understand that everyone had their skeletons in the closet, their own secrets. What her family did didn't define her. She had learned long ago that she was her own person. 

And she was ready to tell Bruce the same.

If it had been anyone else, maybe she would have hated them, maybe she would have believed the Riddler's accusations without question. But this was Bruce. Her Bruce. The man who, despite the weight of his family's darkness, had shown her kindness, compassion, and a sense of duty she couldn't ignore. He wasn't responsible for his parents' mistakes—no, those were theirs alone. 

And yes, he was an idiot sometimes, and she told him that, just hours ago. His efforts to save Gotham weren't just about the suit; they were about Bruce Wayne, the billionaire heir, and the choices he made beyond the mask.

She needed to talk to him. Right now. She needed to hear his voice, to make sure he was okay. To make sure he wasn't going to spiral after watching that video.

Maryam rose from the couch, her resolve firm, but before she could take a step, a low, sinister voice slithered through the air, followed by the sharp click of a safety being disengaged, the sound echoing ominously off the walls.

It was cold, dripping with menace, like a predator toying with its prey.

"Did you like my video?"

The words hung in the air, as if they were being inhaled by the walls themselves. Her body went rigid, the blood in her veins freezing for a moment. Her hand instinctively shot to her throat, as if to protect herself from some invisible pressure closing in on her.

She stood perfectly still, every muscle in her body locked in place. The voice...so familiar yet it wasn't just a voice. It was like something dark and terrible had seeped into the very atmosphere around her. It crawled up her spine, sending chills through her limbs, but she couldn't bring herself to look behind her. 

She didn't want to. She didn't dare.

The silence in her apartment had thickened, almost suffocating. The only sounds were the soft hum of her laptop and TV and the erratic rhythm of her own breathing. Her mind raced, every instinct screaming at her to move, to escape, but she couldn't. 

"Great editing. What app did you use?" she said, her voice taut but unwavering, a strained attempt at sarcasm. 

It was her reflex—sarcasm or anger, sometimes both—whenever danger loomed too close. Her eyes locked onto the figure standing just beyond the glow of the TV.

Him.

The dim, stuttering light played cruel tricks, casting him as something more monstrous than human. The khaki mask clung to his face, faceless and suffocating, with only the glint of thick-framed glasses cutting through the obscurity. 

There was something about those glasses—something that nagged at her, unsettling in its familiarity, as though she had seen them before in another, safer context.

The mask distorted his breathing, a soft, labored sound that crawled across the room to her ears. His posture was relaxed with his gun, almost casual, as if he had been waiting for her, relishing the tension he'd so effortlessly woven into the air.

Her own sarcastic quip hung there, suspended like a broken thread in the thick, oppressive atmosphere. 

Stupid. 

So stupid.

The words hadn't bought her anything—not safety, not time, not even the illusion of control. He wasn't laughing or sneering or reacting at all.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, the erratic rhythm making her feel dizzy. 

She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, her palms slick with sweat. Her nerves screamed at her to move, to do something, but her body was locked in place, paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of it all.

Because why the fuck was the Riddler standing in her apartment?

previous | next chapter

taglist : @gaypoetsblog @faeryki @rattyfishrock

A/N : We finally meet the Riddler! But don't worry, we'll be seeing more of him in the next chapter !!! 😏

Also, for those of you who didn't notice, I've updated the quote in the previous chapter to "My mercy prevails over my wrath." Some of you might recognize this quote from The Walking Dead, but it actually comes from a Hadith in Islam, more specifically Hadith Qudsi.

A Hadith is a collection of sayings, actions, and approvals of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). They form a key part of Islamic teachings and are considered second only to the Quran in guiding the faith. Hadith Qudsi refers to those sayings that are attributed directly to God but spoken through the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH).

I wanted to change the quote because it felt incredibly meaningful, and it aligns perfectly with the themes in Batman and Bruce Wayne's character, as well as Maryam's. I felt like It embodied the internal struggle between mercy and wrath, something that I think resonates deeply with Bruce's moral code, especially considering his commitment to not killing and upholding justice despite his anger. And it also ties into Maryam's own internal conflict, like balancing her past and the choices she makes moving forward.

I felt like this quote really strengthens the narrative and connects with both characters on a deeper level... Idk but I'd love to know what you all think of the change !!!!!

[novankenn]

May I have this Dance?

/==/ In French mythology or folklore, Dames Blanches (meaning literally white ladies) were female spirits or supernatural beings. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dames_blanches)

/==/

The attack on Beacon had been resisted and routed, but at a high cost in life. Civilian, emergency workers, soldiers, students, huntsmen, all paid a horrifically steep price for the safety and preservation of Vale.

Yet to Pyrrha there was a single loss that was an anathema for her. Her partner, the vibrant young woman she had grown from crushing on to loving completely, was gone. Her future erased by Cinder Fall. Ozpin tried to comfort the red-haired champion, but all his words about noble, heroic and valiant sacrifice, tasted like ash. The words were meaningless. Offered no comfort.

When Cinder had appeared, Joan acted without hesitation. Charging the demonic woman, making her shift her aim from the pods to Joan. Pyrrha didn't remember much after seeing Cinder's black arrow impale Joan through the throat. Pyrrha couldn't recall anything up to the point she was cradling Joan's body. Willing with everything inside her for Joan's aura to spark back to life. To seal the viciously cruel wound.

Pyrrha didn't care that Ozpin had bested Cinder. Mortally wounding the demonic woman. All she wanted was to hear Joan's musical voice. To see her angelic smile. Cinder had robbed Pyrrha of both, and then Joan's very essence of life. It took Pyrrha's teammates, Nora, and Ren, plus Joan's own Aunt Glynda Goodwitch to get Pyrrha to release her grip upon Joan's body.

For the remainder of the night, Pyrrha sat in the medical tent, clenching Joan's cold stiff hand, as she repeatedly whispered promises of love and journeys home to family. Cradled in the restraining brace of openly weeping Glynda, Pyrrha screamed and raged when Joan's body was taken away, to finally succumb to her emotional pain and physical exhaustion.

As the clean up began, Pyrrha remained silent and sequestered herself in the temporary lodgings that had been assigned to her team. Her tears were dry now, her body having finally run out of them. Pyrrha couldn't remember what day it was, and to be honest she didn't care. Without Joan, everything felt so empty, valueless.

Glynda said nothing when she arrived. On her hip hung Crocea Mors, in her hands a bronze urn etched with the Arc family crest.

"I want you," Glynda spoke with a cracking voice. "to watch over her until we can take her home. Can you?

Pyrrha nodded silently as she reached up and accepted the urn. The tears she thought were gone, returning anew. Barely able to function Pyrrha with Glynda's assistance placed the urn upon the table next to Pyrrha's bed. Glynda following with placing Crocea Mors beside it.

"When?" Pyrrha managed to force out.

"Two days." Glynda replied. As he pulled Pyrrha into a side hug and kissed the top of her head. "Two days."

Pyrrha didn't even register the passage of time or the trip. Her world was now the cold bronze urn clutched to her chest. At the Arc homestead, they were all greeted as family. Ren and Nora finding comfort in sharing stories of Joan with her sisters. Pyrrha couldn't. She couldn't speak, all she could do was hold the urn against her heart, praying to both the brothers that Joan could feel the love she still bore in her shattered heart.

"Pyrrha?" Jasmine, Joan's mother addressed her. Glynda standing beside her. "Can you come with us?"

Pyrrha didn't replied, she just stood woodenly stood up, clutching the urn close. The two women, blood relations to Joan, gently placed warm hands upon her shoulders. She never saw the nod Glynda and Jasmine gave Joan's father Nicholas. She never noticed how he shifted attention so none would notice the departing trio.

It was a slow, and silent walk through a well kept woodland trail, that ended at the edge of a pond, at the center of which was a small island. On the island, in fact taking up the entirety of it was a garden, surrounded by a low stone fence. The feature of the garden a majestic and stately Weeping Willow. In the sky above the first stars were becoming visible.

"Every member of the Arc clan, who has passed, has their ashes spread here." Jasmine quietly informed Pyrrha. "That Willow has been in this place before the Great War."

Pyrrha was barely listening.

"The Arc's believe it will remain until the end of their line." Glynda offered. "Jasmine, Nicholas and I spoke. We think Joan would have wished for you to spread her ashes here."

Pyrrha looked as the pair of women wearing comforting but sorrowful smiles. Pyrrha swallowed, and sniffled, a fresh batch of tears threatening to spill from her puffy eyes.

"It's okay, Pyrrha." Jasmine spoke, while gently guiding her to the stone bridge that allowed access to the island. "It's what Joan would have wanted."

"It's okay." Glynda added.

Pyrrha swallowed and took a tentative step forward followed by another and another. The tip was maybe twenty feet, but it felt like miles to Pyrrha. Standing before the ageless Willow Tree, Pyrrha swallowed again before opening the urn.

"I love you, Joan." Pyrrha choked out, before tipping the urn and spilling its contents about the roots of the tree. "I love you, and I miss you... I miss you so much..."

Pyrrha stood there for a few more minutes, silently trying to gather the strength for the return trip to the shore. For one final walk away from Joan, and what their future could have been. The urn fell from Pyrrha's nerveless hands, at the ethereal figure standing before her upon the bridge. Draped in the purest of white ballgowns was Joan, smiling at her.

"Joan?" Pyrrha squeaked out.

"May I have this dance my lady?" Joan's musical voice touched Pyrrha's ears. With shaking steps Pyrrha approached and reached out her hands.

"Yes." Pyrrha sobbed out. "Yes."

Glynda, and Jasmine watched as Joan and Pyrrha slowly began to move about. Their steps in perfect unison, as they glided about the narrow bridge. The sound of footsteps alerted to the arrival of the others. Glynda and Jasmine reached out and took Athena Nikos' hands. Squeezing them gently. Standing off just a little behind the trio of women, was Ren and Nora, Nicholas Arc's strong but comforting hands upon their shoulders.

They all watched as Pyrrha and Joan danced, and danced. Pyrrha's tears of sorrow being replaced with joy. Joan's radiant smile never faltering.

"I love you Joan."

"I love you Pyr. Now and forever."

No one said a single word as they continued to watch the pair of women continued to dance, sharing their love and joy with each other. Showing those who were witness the purity genuineness of their love.

"I love you Pyrrha." Athena whispered as the first rays of dawn stretched out over the horizon, and the pair of young women, lost in each other's eyes faded from sight. "I'll love you, always."

/==/

💕Dedicated to Everyone I have Lost over the Years, both Family and Friends. I miss you.💕

/==/

/==> Jaunes of the Monster-Verse Collection <==\

(A/N - This one was hard for me to write, but I needed to get this out. Last week I lost a good friend from work and I found today that the night before she passed she was planning on calling me. She was good friend and I miss her. So I spent half of this crying about memories of her and other people I really miss... My apologies if this post is a mess.)