#if you ask how the gun is strapped to his back i will scream ARTISTIC LIBERTIES at you while walking away as fast as i can

[ummmmandy]

[katzenmas]

I CRAVE A PART THREE OF CREEP TATTOO ARTIST READER PLEASEEEE

(IF NOT THATS FINE I REALLY WANNA BE MOOTS THOUGH)

LILYY HELLO I WAS LITERALLY JUSY READING YOUR FIC AJSHNSHDHA I'M SCREAMING!!! MDNI: Smut, pervert!reader, dub-con, afab reader, ghoap x reader, johnny is also a pervert i can not help myself, sub simon Two days after Simon's tattoo was done and he changed his second skin he found himself unable to fall asleep. His mind was preoccupied with the tattoo artist. He tried to get himself to believe that he did not like her lingering touches in places where her hands should not have been, but he wasn't a man that was too keen on lying, even to himself.

So that's how he found himself entering the shop again the next evening. He saw you, tattooing a man's upper thigh. his eyes darted to your left hand that was casually gripping the blue eyed man's bulge through his boxers and the shit eating grin on his face told Simon that he was quite enjoying the touch.

your eyes snapped up to him and a smile broke out on your face. your foot left the paddle and the tattoo gun stopped whirring in your hand.

"Johnny, I'd like you to meet mister stiffy, otherwise known as the newbie that decided to get a full sleeve" the man-johnny let out an amused laugh and raked his eyes over simon, something glinting in the icy blues.

"What can I help you with?" The smile on your lips looked sweet, but your hungry eyes made Simon feel as if he was being watched by a predator, his cock twitching at the thought in his pants.

"Need some more second skin" he grumbled out, hoping the excuse was believable enough. you nodded your head over to a built-in cabinet in the wall and Simon got the clue.

"It should be right next to the cherry flavored lube" Johnny called out and Simon thought he was joking, until he opened the cabinet and was greeted by what seemed like a small sex shop right next to the second skin he needed.

it had everything. There were different kinds of lubes, condoms, handcuffs, edible underwear and a leather muzzle. it looked so out of place that it rendered simon motionless as he studied the muzzle with curious eyes. his fingers brushed against the leather straps as he tried to imagine what you used this for, who you used it on.

" Does that interest you?" Simon's breath hitched. you were behind him, your chin almost touching his shoulder as you leaned down over his crouched form and looked at the muzzle. Simon looked back at you, his eyes burning as they momentarily darted down to look at your lips.

that seemed to be your undoing. you slotted your lips over his and simon closed his eyes. you tasted sweet as you moved your mouth over his, your hands clutched at his shoulders and you moved simon closer towards you.

A cough got Simon to pull away. He looked over to the chair where Johnny was sitting, waiting for you to return and finish his tattoo. Instead of annoyance, Simon found the man's gaze to be burning with hunger.

"ya gonna finish this or are ye givin' me a show so i cannae forget 'bout the pain?'' Johnny's scottish accent paired with your hands on his body had Simon aching in his jeans, the pressure bordering on painful so he shifted. your gaze fell back on him and you cupped simon through his pants.

"want to be a good boy for us?" The speed with which Simon nodded his head was almost embarrassing. you could've asked him to assassinate the queen and he'd do it if it meant your hands were still palming his cock.

you smiled and clutched at simon's shirt as you led him over to the chairs. your lips found his again as you sat down on one of the chairs and brought his head down to continue the kiss, deft fingers tugging on his short strands as your tongue did wicked things to him.

Simon tried to grind against your core, feel something so he could relieve the pressure on his cock but you tutted and broke the kiss. faux disappointment shone in your eyes as you pushed down on his shoulders and got him to kneel in front of you, face to face with your spread thighs.

"stupid puppy, you have to be good for us and then you can get your reward." you chided and slowly slid your pants off, leaving in your gray panties that had a wet spot at the front. Simon felt his mouth water.

" go on puppy, we’re waitin’ " johnny was behind simon, leaving kisses on the side of his neck.

Simon kissed you through your underwear first, then he hooked his fingers through the flimsy garment and ripped. Before you could chew him out over the ruined pair of panties his nose was buried in your cunt. Tongue wildly lapping at your folds, teeth nibbling at your swollen clit. The soft sounds that left your mouth were egging him on, made him slip one finger into your tight cunt while he sucked on your clit.

With a cry you arched your back off the chair and gushed all over Simon, but he was not letting up. He cleaned you up through the aftershocks of your orgasm, each shudder and whine going straight to his weeping cock. Through the haze of it all he looked up at you with his honey brown eyes and bit down on your thigh, hard.

Only to get yanked away by his neck the second his teeth make contact with your soft skin. Johnny’s hand was rough and unforgiving on Simon, the fury in his icy eyes made Simon shiver.

“ Mutts like you don’t get tae bite what’s mine” Johnny seethed and suddenly there was a wight over Simon's face and leather was biting into his skin. Johnny fucking muzzled him.

“Ya ken yer goin’ tae get away with that? Stupid untrained mutt, cannae even eat pussy without bitin’ “ Johnny’s hands were as fast as his words as he undid Simon’s jeans and pulled his weeping cock out, the red sticky wetness gathering on his swollen red tip made the scot laugh.

“Like a bitch in heat” You said from your place up on the chair as you watched Simon with a cruel smile. - I'M SORRY I SWEAR THEY WILL FUCK IF I DO WRITE A PART 4 I JUST HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WANT THEM TO DO IT 😭

[blkchxrryblyss]

Witness Protection - Prologue

izuku x ghoul!blk fem!reader x katsuki

synopsis - Thinking you finally escaped your dark, utterly fucked up past, things come at you full force making you as equally as paranoid as the police and pro heroes. When two pro heroes just barge their way into your apartment, you begin to learn that your paranoia is warranted. In order to ensure your safety, you are pushed to witness protection.......In-home witness protection.......In-home witness protection with two pro heroes.........Let's see how things go!

warnings - will vary among each chapter

I do not own MHA, MHA Characters or anything associated with the brand. I do not own the art, all images were obtained through google. If you know the artist, please tag them.

©blkchxrryblyss 2022

Prologue

warnings - death, cussing, assault, kidnapping, manipulation, murder

w.c - 0.7k

Kagune.

Red Child.

All you heard were screams. You didn't know what was happening. You were nothing but 5 years old, all you could do was listen. Your father was yelling in frustration. Minutes later he was screaming in pain. He was hurt. He was hurt and you wanted to help.

But you could do nothing. Just sit there tied up, blindfolded, gagged, with warm tears running down your face. Waiting for your time.

You listened to the sounds of struggle that were happening only a few feet away. Glass shattering, wood splintering, bones breaking, and screams of agony. You didn't want to hear this anymore. You didn't like hearing your family and friends in pain. You wanted to break out and run far away.

Then straining sound of your father’s voice rings out to whisper, “Not my little girl. Don’t-don’t hurt Stormy.”

“She’s a ghoul, is she not?” The sound of a woman’s frantic voice asked.

“O-only half. Her-her powers haven’t even manifested. Plea-”

A gunshot rang out silencing your father’s words and amplifying your cries.

“PAPA! PAPAAAA!” you screamed through your gag, but it came out muffled.

Your father was gone. The only family that you had was now taken away from you. Your family was the last known ghouls to walk this earth and today it’s going to end with you. Y/N Parker, age 5, died from a gunshot to the head. You didn’t even understand why or how they found out who you all were, but they did. And they hated it.

“Get all your cries out now because these will be the last that ever come out of your mouth.”

Your wet eyes squeezed shut as you awaited your fate. You didn’t want to die, but they’re giving you no choice. Your neighbors, people you thought were nice people, are now your worst nightmare. All you could do is sit there like a chicken about to get its head cut off, but only in this situation, you knew you were going to be killed. Only this morning, were you making breakfast with your father. Smiling and laughing without a care in the world. You didn’t think that later on in the night, everything would be taken away in the blink of an eye. The cold metal of the gun against your forehead broke you away from your thoughts. You clenched your tiny fist and cried. 

An onslaught of gunshots rang out, but you were still breathing. Your body fell due to shock and you screamed from fear, not knowing if one of the bullets would hit you. The attack ended just as quickly as it started. Your screams had turned into shaky, silent cries. Confusion swept over you as you wondered why you were still breathing. Did you have a savior? Or did someone else want to take the credit for your death?

The feeling of your blindfold being lifted, startled you. Your tiny body was still shaken after facing a near-death experience. Eyesight still a bit blurry, the blurry form of a man stood over you getting closer and closer. You shuffled back as much as you could but you were stopped by a firm grip on your arm. The ties on your arm loosened and the gag was removed. Seeing more clearly, you sniffle and look up at the man in front of you. 

One red eye, one white eye with a cut running across his eyelid. A black mask with straps running across it covered his face from the nose down. Black hair shadowed his eyes as he kneeled down to your small frame.

“No need to cry anymore, little one. You're going home.” the man assured you, helping you stand to your feet. You stepped back a little, very unsure about the man.

“B-but I don't have a home. I don't even have any f-family”, you took a glance at your father's cold, still body, feeling the tears come back up, “My papa-is gone. I want my papa back. I w-want-“

The man pulled your shaken body into a hug as you hiccuped out your pleads. He rubbed your back, gradually calming you down, before speaking again.

“Quiet down, little one. You're gonna have a new family now. You're gonna have a new home."

part 1

taglist - @bl--ankhaeji @pervysenpaix @plussizeficchick @dabilovesme @angwritez @dejwrites @tenyaiidasslut @xogabbiexo @thotty-tatertot1 @blackreaderatrisk @nasty-quillz @bookwormsenpai @luna-indigoduh @38riku @sintiva @chaoticevilbakugo @namjoonswifeyy @wh0reforlevi @yo-nn @h0e4bakug0 @thicksimpx

[crysalita]

Left Behind

Bo Sinclair x Reader

Word Count: 2439

Warnings: Suicide mentioned when Bo is telling the story about Trudy.

I had to admit that I never actually wanted to be here, on a road trip that is, but somehow I had managed to find myself getting an invite from Carly, who claimed there needed to be more girls. I reluctantly agreed to tag along, and so far I was regretting that poorly made decision.

I was a third wheel as I lagged behind Carly and Wade. I felt as if all I had done so far since we arrived in this town was either roll my eyes or sigh at their constant flirting. If I had of known that this is what my day was going to consist of then I would have said no in a heartbeat.

The small town we had arrived in gave me strange vibes, whether it was because the town was oddly empty even though we could hear chatter, or whether it was because of the two men that we had come across.

Bo, the man that works at the gas station, spent most of the time eyeing me down after the run in at the church, I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“So, Y/n. What did you think about Bo? He seems to have taken quite an interest in you.” Carly teased, nudging my shoulder.

We were in the gas station looking for whatever part that Wade needed.

“Don’t be stupid, he was just being friendly.” I scowled.

“Coming from a guys perspective, he definitely finds you hot.” Wade spoke up.

I sent him a glare. “Just look for that part.”

“He’s got everything, but a 15 inch. I’ll just have to use a 16 inch.” Wade grabbed a hold of the strap that he needed, but we were startled when we heard another voice.

“Are you planning on stealing that?” When I turned around, I was met with Bo leaning against the door frame, still in his suit and tie. I had to admit that the suit did look good on him.

“No, we just didn’t know how much longer you were gonna be, and you know, we didn’t wanna interrupt again.” Wade rushed out. “But I left you some money on the counter, but you don’t even really have the right size. You don’t have any 15 inches.”

“I do at the house.” Bo replied, not looking in the slightest bit like he was convinced by Wade’s constant stuttering, I couldn’t blame him though, Wade made us look more suspicious than we actually were.

“Look, I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea that we’re in here.” Carly attempted to ease the tension.

“Yeah, we already feel bad enough after interrupting the first time, we just didn’t want to do it again.” I smiled politely. In return, Bo sent me one of his own smiles and gestured for us to come out of the shed.

“No worries. That was in the past. We can move on from that.” Bo replied as he held the door open for us.

“You keep fan belts at your house?” Wade asked.

“I get things delivered there when I’m not here. Look, if you want to hold onto the 16, that’s fine by me.” Bo was looking more agitated by the minute.

“No, it’s okay.”

Bo led us outside of the gas station and we began our journey to the house that Bo lived at. My legs were already tired enough as it was from all the walking we had done, and I honestly wasn’t trying to do anymore.

“So, is it too late to sign Carly up for that beauty pageant?” Wade asked with a smirk on his face.

“Now unfortunately it is, well at least for you-” Bo turned and nodded in my direction. “-Because you have won, hands down.” I blushed slightly at his comment but shook it off quickly as I looked away.

“Thank you.” I mumbled. My gaze landed on Carly who was giving me a smug smile to which I rolled my eyes at.

“That house of Wax is pretty cool.” Wade changed the subject. This caught Bo’s attention.

“You went inside?”

“Yeah, it was unlocked.”

“I did try to tell them they shouldn’t, but they both happen to be very stubborn.” I didn’t dare step foot into the House of Wax. Knowing myself I would probably end up ruining the art in there, and I would never forgive myself if I destroyed someone’s art that they, more than likely, spent hours trying to create. I did manage to get quick look inside when Carly and Wade entered, and it truly was amazing.

“Everything seems to be unlocked ‘round here, don’t it? Thank you for having respect.” I was rewarded with another one of his smiles that really did compliment his face, although he did use quite an odd choice of words as it made him seem all the creepier.

I shared a look between the other two, who were also very creeped out.

“I did get a look inside though, when they opened the door that is, and the wax sculptures are amazing.” I complimented. I was a bit bummed out that I couldn’t see the artwork up close to see their full detail, but my conscious got to the best of me and now I was glad that I didn’t go in.

“Yeah, people used to come and see it from miles away. Trudy was the main artist.” I could imagine the amount of people that I wanted to see it, but for some reason there wasn’t any.

“What about Vincent?” Carly questioned. “I saw his name on a lot of the work.”

“One of Trudy’s boys.”

“That family must be very talented. Are any of them still around? I would love to meet them, and maybe they could help me out with some of my own art.” I commented.

“Oh- no. It’s a horrible story. Trudy’s husband, Doctor Sinclair, he was a doctor. He got his licence revoked for doing surgery’s on the side, you know, stuff that most doctors wouldn’t do. So, he moved him and Trudy out here to Ambrose, made a fresh start in medical practise and Trudy found her calm with the whole wax sculpture thing.” Bo explained as we walked past the House of Wax. “It was her dream to do something incredible here. Then she had a couple of kids-”

“What’s so horrible about that?”

“Trudy got a cyst in her brain, she just started rottin’ away.” My eyes widened as Bo continued the story. It was really starting to take a dark turn. “Couldn’t work no more, she went crazy, and it got so bad, that Doctor Sinclair had to strap her up to the bed. The whole town could hear her screaming from the house. And Doctor Sinclair was so depressed that he couldn’t save her he-” Bo creates a gun with his fingers and pretends to shoot himself in the head. “Blew his head right off.”

“That’s horrible.” I mumbled.

By now we were approaching the last house on the road, meaning this was where Bo was staying. The sky was getting darker and darker by the minute, making the situation all the more terrifying.

“Hey, uh, why don’t you three hop in, and I’ll go get that fanbelt for ya’” Bo opened the door to his car and gestured for us to hop in.

“No, we actually have some friends picking us up where the roads washed out.” Carly interrupted.

“I’ll give ya’ a lift there. It’s the least I could do then for making ya’ll wait.” Carly and I both turned to Wade who was nodding his head.

“Could I use the toilet?” I asked Bo as Carly hopped into the car.

“Yeah, of course. You said you need to use the can too, didn’t ya?” Bo faced Wade. He then proceeded to ask Carly the same question before he led us into his house.

The house was nothing less than what I expected, not that I expected much. To no surprise, it was quite messy, but I couldn’t hold that against Bo, as he most likely wasn’t expecting guests.

“So, where ya’ headed too anyway?”

“Uh, where just headed to a football game.” Wade answered.

“Bathrooms just down the hall. Let me get out of this jacket and tie, and I’ll get the fanbelt. I have another bathroom upstairs for ya’ to use.” I followed Bo up the stairs as Wade walked down the hall. I began feeling nervous as now I was left alone. “You interested in football?” Bo cocked his head to the side as he looked at me. I found myself staring a little longer than I should have, which Bo took notice of too, as his lips twitched up into a sly smirk.

“No, not really. Just here for Carly.” Bo nodded his head along with what I was saying before he popped another question, a very unexpected question.

“I take it ya’ single than?”

“What makes you think that?” I stammered.

“Well, considering those two are tied to the hip, that would most likely mean that if ya’ were seeing someone, then they’d be 'ere too.” Bo explained as he shrugged off his jacket. “And if it were me, I wouldn’t let ya’ out of my sight. Especially in a town I’ve never been in.” Bo opened a door that revealed to be the second bathroom he owned. I walked in and closed the door and instantly let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

This man was making me feel all kinds of things, and I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

I did my business and exited the bathroom to see Bo waiting outside, this time he was dressed in casual clothing, and no longer rocked a suit and tie. I had to admit that this man could certainly pull off both looks.

“Did you need help getting anything? I don’t mind helping.” I offered.

“That would be nice, thank you.” I followed behind Bo, who led us into the garage that was covered in tools and what I could only assume was car parts.

“Is it always this quiet in town?” I watched as Bo gathered some things and placed them in crate he had. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I waited where he had placed down the crate.

“Depends on the day, I guess. Sometimes it can be noisy, believe or not, and some days it’s dead silent. Today just so happens to be one of those days.” Bo mumbled.

All of a sudden the lights were cut off and everything went pitch black. I immediately put my arms out to reach for something to grab a hold of. “Bo?” I held my hand out in the direction of where Bo was last stood. “Bo? Where are you?” I felt his hand come in contact with my own.

“I’m right here, sweets.” I was thankful the lights were off so Bo couldn’t see the blush spread out across my burning face. “I don’t know what happened.” The sound of metal hitting the ground echoed throughout the garage, and then I heard the sound of the horn from outside.

“They must be waiting for us.” I muttered to no one in particular. The lights then turned on and I found myself extremely close to Bo as his chest was almost plastered to my back. “Sorry about that. That was childish.” I apologised I pulled myself away from Bo.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Ya’ get a little scared of the dark, nothing to be ashamed of.” Bo picked up the crate of tools. “I’m going to take this stuff out to the truck. Would you mind finding the wrench for me? It should be in one of the drawers over there.” Bo nodded his head in the direction of where the cupboard filled with drawers were before he exited the garage.

Everything felt scarier now that I was alone and everything around me was silent. I could hear my own breathing with how silent it was, and I hated it.

I searched through the different drawers before I found the wrench that I was looking for.

I began hearing shouting from outside and I quickly made my way outside, only to find the truck driving away and Bo standing outside, the tools scattered across the ground. “Bo, what happened?” I slowly approached Bo who was seething with anger, that was until he turned around to me. His face relaxed as he locked eyes with my own.

“Your little friends just decided to drive off with my truck. I guess they forgot that there was a third one with them.” My mood dulled at his words. How could they just leave me like that? “Hey, don’t let them get ya’ down. You don’t need 'em. Especially after the way they’ve acted today.” That didn’t change the fact that someone that I considered to be my best friend, had just left me behind to run off with her boyfriend, did I ever really mean anything to her. “Listen, I have another truck at the station, if ya’ like, we could walk down tomorrow morning and I could drive ya’ where you need to go.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.” Bo walked back inside, forgetting about the tools that were lying all around.

“You can sleep on the couch for tonight. I’ll get ya’ some blankets to keep ya’ warm. Did ya’ want something to eat?” Bo yelled out as he walked up the stairs.

“I’m good.” I called back. I sat down on the couch and stared off into nothing, this day was going horrible. I sighed as I placed my head into my hands and tiredly rubbed my eyes.

“Hey, ya’ know. I’d love to see ya’ some more. I wasn’t lying when I said ya’ were pretty. Definitely caught my eye.” Bo placed down the blankets on the end of the couch as he sat down beside me.

I found myself blushing for what felt like the millionth time today. “Really? I’d like to see you more too.” I whispered, looking everywhere but the man beside me.

Bo placed his finger on my chin and guided me to look in his direction. “Look at me when ya’ speak. I want to see ya’.”

Before I knew it, we had spent what felt like hours talking on that couch before I eventually got tired and fell asleep, and that was definitely the only good part about my day, getting to talk to Bo.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #13- Swerve Doesn’t Have Any Friends

Okay, let’s go ahead and get this out of the way.

It’s a FUCKING SPORTS BRA AND RUNNING SHORTS ALEX.

And don’t think I don’t see that friggin’ cleavage alien back there. You ain’t slick.

I’m going to make it a law that all comic book artists learn how to draw clothes that don’t vacuum-seal themselves to women’s bodies. Milne gets six months for this infraction alone, and Roche gets a year for the initial bra crime he committed back in Last Stand. Learn how women’s underwear works, you ninnies.

Our issue opens up with Swerve stretching his radio personality muscles.

Oh, Guido Guidi, whisk me away to flights of fancy!

Our artist for this issue is none other than Guido Guidi, ascended from fanwork to deliver us from evil with his near-superhuman ability to emulate other artists’ styles and just make things look really pretty. He was responsible for the mythos pages in the 2012 Annual, AKA the best part. He also filled in on some of the art for Last Stand of the Wreckers, not that I really noticed because he’s just that good.

Swerve lets Blurr know that while it might have looked like the Lost Light had exploded, thus killing everyone onboard back in issue #1, that isn’t actually what happened. I’m glad someone filled in the Cybertronian populace on that.

I was never great at math, but those speech bubbles might be phoning it in a bit.

Swerve says that he’s having a great time on the quest, despite all the hiccups, and we get an explanation for why this long-range communications system hasn’t been seen prior to this point. It’s been broken for a while- most likely due to the quantum jump that started the series off with a bang- but Blaster managed to get it running again. Good job, Blaster. With this little setup for our framing device out of the way, we get into the meat of the story.

Swerve is being nosey about things that weren’t any of his business, happening in a closed off room, when Drift drags him down the hall and hid him away for safety. Swerve doesn’t much appreciate being manhandled, but there’s a method to the madness here.

Drift’s nose has vacated the premises once again, so we’re just going to have to deal with that. And how shapely does one have to be to be known as “the guy with the legs”? I mean, Drift is RIGHT THERE.

Drift uses his own powerful legs to kick down the door to Cyclonus and Tailgate’s room. It turns out that the horrific screaming wasn’t the sound of a murder or sexual relations taking place, but rather that of Cyclonus singing in Old Cybertronian.

My god, he’s completely enamored with this unrepentant murder machine.

We are just all up in Cyclonus’ grill for this panel. Nothing but lips. Was this specified in the script? Because it feels like it might have been specified in the script.

Old Cybertronian, or the Primal Vernacular as some might call it, was last seen in general when Rodimus channeled the will of the trapped Titan all across Tailgate’s chest. It was last seen spoken when we met Vos, the terrible murder gremlin who turns into a gun and uses his face to cause puncture trauma.

Comic books are wild, y’all.

Now that we’ve established that no one’s being killed, Drift goes back to what he was doing earlier, with Swerve deciding to tag along because he’s horrifically lonely. He invites Drift to come room up with him, because I guess if you’re going to sell off your comatose roommate’s bed out from under him, you might as well go for the guy who’s third in command,  is probably one of the hottest guys on the ship, and slices people into chunky salsa if they try anything funny.

Drift politely declines, and awkwardly removes himself from the conversation when Swerve doesn’t take the hint, returning to his sword lesson with Rodimus.

Oh thank god, the obnoxiously pink room is back.

Ultra Magnus bursts into the room, appalled by the actions of his fellow crew members. Some of his concerns are well-placed. Others, well…

Is- is that another friggin’ retainer on those lower teeth? Why does this design choice keep showing up?

So Magnus has imprisoned roughly a third of the ship at this point, and Rodimus suggests he take a chill pill. Magnus doesn’t even know what a chill pill even is, so we’re forced to make use of our most dangerous weapon- the threat of a good time, courtesy of Swerve.

The fact that Ultra Magnus hasn’t reduced Swerve to an oil stain on the floor is genuinely astounding. The guy has zero respect for bureaucracy or proper business management. It has been MONTHS, you dinky little man, get your act together as a business owner.

Swerve takes the bribe, and soon everyone’s shipping off to Hedonia, where the drinks are plentiful and the women… well, most of the Lost Lighters don’t even know what a woman is, so that aspect doesn’t really come into play. Thanks, Furman.

Also, Rung’s back to normal. Don’t worry about it, not a big deal.

Swerve isn’t having much luck on his Roommate Quest, as Tailgate spurns his advances, stating that he’s good kicking it with Cyclonus, mainly because they’re both old as shit.

I see we haven’t quite hit the threshold on the “Cyclonus is allowed to have friends now” meter. Give it a few more issues, I’m sure we’ll get there.

Man, zero for two for Swerve on trying to get a hot roommate. Maybe third time’s a charm?

Rodimus pops into the back of the shuttle to remind everyone that their entire race is more or less despised by the entire galaxy, and to play it safe by using their holomatter avatars.

The revamp by Brainstorm and Rung is truly a blessing, because the avatars in IDW were awful to look at up to this point.

Y’all, that is HOT ROD. Jesus wept.

Getting back to Tailgate’s questionable taste in companionship, Tailgate asks if Swerve and Blurr connected right away. Swerve gives him an affirmative, then starts listing off the guy’s racing stats until Ultra Magnus plops down between the two of them, drawn in by the melodious sound of statistics.

Magnus is having a hard time relaxing, but he’s giving it his best, and I think that’s very commendable of him. It’s hard trying new things.

On the surface of Hedonia, it would appear the B-Movies are having a Pride event in the entertainment district.

Okay, moment of truth- show us those avatars!

Oh thank god, they aren’t totally hideous. Though, isn’t Rewind old as shit? I guess youth is a state of mind. Still, I can’t believe we missed out on silver fox Rewind.

Rung’s line is in response to folks at the time claiming that Rung was a self-insert character, which is interesting, because we’ve already seen what a self-insert looks like when it’s Roberts doing the inserting, and we’ve also seen his Mary Sues.

Rung, while an original character who had appeared in Roberts’ pre-professional works (a single line of text in Eugenesis, where he was a psychiatry play-on-words), he isn’t what I’d consider a Mary Sue. Mary Sues are usually stunningly beautiful, beloved by their peers, insanely talented in ways that no other character is, and typically have some sort of connection to another character that more or less forces them into the story despite not needing to exist.

Mary Sues don’t get their friggin’ heads exploded, or exist in a constantly-forgettable state. Sure, he’s the only therapist we’ve ever seen in the Transformers franchise, but there was kind of a massive need for that sort of character to be created, seeing as all of these sons of guns have PTSD and clinical depression. And, as we’ve seen in previous issues and will continue to see later on, he’s really not even that great at it.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t have certain traits befitting such a characterization, merely that they don’t add up to equal that sort of whole by issue #13. Transformers (2009)-era Drift is way closer to a true Mary Sue than Rung is.

Anyway, where the hell did Tailgate get to?

They really just let Frodo Baggins in this bar all babybjörned up, huh? Does Tailgate even know what a baby even is at this point? Does he just think he’s a very small person? How much human media has he consumed? We haven’t gotten into the reproductive process for the continuity yet, but fresh Cybertronians aren’t exactly a one-to-one to human infants. Damn it, Roberts, what the fuck am I supposed to make of Babygate?

Whirl’s off in the corner, disguised as a 12-year old girl who’s fucking STRAPPED. Magnus has disappeared, but Rewind locates him pretty easily as Rung makes a comment about Magnus needing to make an appointment with him.

Oh hey, Verity. Been a minute. Careful, ol’ six-eyes over there is leering at you.

The fellas come back to the bar as they truly are, and sit down for a round of drinks. Whirl gets Ultra Magnus a drink that sounds disturbingly like a Cybertronian equivalent to Milk Coke, and we get a little anatomy lesson. Transformers have something called a Fuel Intake Moderation chip, something that keeps them from getting drunk on pretty much the only thing they can consume. Swerve suggests Magnus turn his off so he can have a good time- which I don’t personally agree with, but this is Captain Stick-in-the-Mud we’re talking about here. Magnus gives it a shot.

And that’s a series wrap on Ultra Magnus!

No, the man’s just got no tolerance and has been knocked the hell out by his drink. Things begin devolving. Tailgate is crying. Skids has found out that Whirl didn’t give Magnus Milk Coke at all, but instead the equivalent of liquid cocaine. Swerve is convinced he’s going to prison. Rewind is filming the whole thing.

Nobody actually checks to see if Magnus is actually dead, until Rung gets around to it. Swerve, you’re a doctor by original trade, what the hell are you doing?

The boys sit Magnus at the table to wait out his nap. Hours later, nothing’s changed, except that they’ve started up the nemesis game, and Whirl’s decided he’s going to be rude about monoformers being monoformers. Rung gives a non-answer, because that’s just who he is as a person. Skids names Misfire as his worst enemy, only because he’s still missing a good chunk of memory and can’t remember if he had a worst enemy, but still wants to contribute to the conversation.

Rung, don’t be a dick, he did his best. You were right on top of Fort Max, it was a tricky shot.

Ultra Magnus finally starts waking up, and that’s the point where everyone decides to foot Swerve with the bill for the emotional labor he’s going to have to perform by explaining just what the friggity-frack happened.

Magnus starts laughing, then crying, then offloads his troubles onto Swerve. Magnus feels like he just doesn’t fit in on the Lost Light. He’s just trying to do his job and everyone makes fun of him, or disrespects his authority. He’s trying, he really is, but he’s just not built for post-war life. He’s actually tried to leave his position on the Lost Light, but they just keep pulling him back in.

Probably doesn’t help that Rodimus seems more interested in Drift’s opinion on matters than his own SIC half the time.

Oh no, he’s making digs at the things Swerve’s sensitive about. Where is Rung?

Magnus just wants to be understood, y’know? He’s a fully realized creation. He’s got interests. Like music! And the fact that Swerve is missing his Autobot badge!

This was the point where MTMTE was still bouncing back and forth on whether it wanted to commit to the crotch badge. It was a tumultuous time for everyone, very dark days.

WHERE THE FUCK IS RUNG

Magnus, having had enough of sharing his feelings, takes another sip of his cocaine and slips back into unconsciousness. Swerve admits to his limp body that people don’t actually like him, but rather only stick around because of what he can offer- namely, a good time.

The rest of the Swerve posse comes back, with Cyclones having joined the party. Rung shows off his new model ship, which gets Rewind started on his movie collection. He pulls up the opening ceremony for the Ark 1. Y’know, the Ark 1, that ship that Cyclonus was on that disappeared into the Dead Universe for six million years. The Ark 1 that Tailgate was supposed to be on.

Before we can get started however, someone throws the model at Rewind’s head.

That someone is none other than Cyclonus, who proceeds to fly into a rage, throwing tables and shoving the still-unconscious Ultra Magnus to the floor. My word, what a reaction! What could possibly be setting him off so much? Does he not like being reminded of his fated trip to the stars? Is this a manifestation of trauma from that event?

Who knows? No time for questions, Skids is too busy punching him in the face.

Tailgate intervenes, explaining that because Cyclonus and himself are so goddamn old, the engex Cyclonus consumed is wreaking havoc on his body. He tells the rest of them to go on while he tries to calm Cyclonus down. Interesting that Rewind doesn’t have any sort of input on this, given that he is also super fucking old, but there’s no time for questions! We’ve got to get Ultra Magnus back on the shuttle in the next 20 minutes, or else they’ll be stuck on Hedonia FOREVER.

They start throwing Magnus on the floor repeatedly, trying to get his t-cog to spin up. No dice, however.

It’s 4AM. Do you know where your Domey is? Because Rewind sure as hell doesn’t.

Okay, time for Plan B.

I’m guessing not, Rung. I’m guessing not.

Using Magnus as a trampoline does the trick, and the boys are rewarded with the sight of Magnus’ alt-mode… resting on its roof, upside down. They get him sorted, pile in the cab- Rewind is driving, which leads me to believe he at least has some experience handling a vehicle. Chromedome does turn into a car…

I don’t even know what that sort of activity implies for a Transformer. We won’t go any further down this line of thought.

The boys manage to get Ultra Magnus to the shuttle in time, and all’s well that ends well!

This is about the time that Blaster knocks on the glass at Swerve to wrap things up, seeing as he’s been at this for over nine hours now. There’s one last little aside before we’re done with our story, however, and it involves just what happened in the bar after everyone else left.

Cyclonus calmed down almost immediately after the rest of the guys left, paying for what he broke and inviting Tailgate to have a seat.

Well, I say invite, but it’s really more of an order.

If you’d already figured out at this point that this jumpy little marshmallow was lying about being the biggest badass who ever lived, a gold star for you! It turns out, dear Tailgate has been crafting a fabrication, spinning a yarn, telling a tall tale since Day One on the Lost Light. The story has been feeding us a steady diet of fish the whole time!

Red herring!

Red herring!

Red herring of Tailgate’s own design! Autopedia’s mods are a friggin’ joke.

Tailgate was supposed to be a the Ark 1 launch, but it was because he was on the cleanup crew. Boy’s a sluicer, and his arm SHOULD say "waste disposal”. Through a cunning use of his wits and cold reading, Tailgate faked his way through the dismantling of the bomb on Temptoria. A smart boy, he is, if not a bit self-centered.

Which brings us to why exactly Cyclonus freaked out in the bar: he wasn’t having an episode, but rather faking a reaction to prevent Tailgate’s lie from being exposed. He still thinks that Tailgate should come clean about this whole thing, before things get really messy, but it wouldn’t be an issue of MTMTE without some raw-ass emotions getting thrown about.

Cyclonus, who hasn’t allowed himself to feel anything other than simmering rage or national pride for over six million years, is beginning to feel something for Tailgate.

That feeling is sympathy, and maybe a little pity.

He offers to teach Tailgate a song to help him feel better, because that’s what he does when he has feelings.

And given that Cyclonus seems to sing often enough that Tailgate’s gotten used to the horrific sound, it might be that Cyclonus has feelings a hell of a lot more often than he lets on.

Roberts, how many times are you going to make Tailgate cry? How much pain are you going to subject him to before you’re satisfied?

The scene closes out on the two of them getting their karaoke on in the empty bar, in the god-awful language that is Old Cybertronian. I can only imagine that they get kicked out of the bar pretty quickly after this.

Getting back to the present, Swerve has finally, finally finished his story, closing out with an invitation for Blurr to come visit Swerve’s.

Blaster gets ready to shoot one hell of a voice message at Blurr, but there’s a problem; the number Swerve has isn’t long enough to be a personal hailing frequency.

Yeah, turns out that Tailgate isn’t the only liar on board the Lost Light.

Four million years ago, Swerve met Blurr at a publicity event, got way too friendly with a celebrity, pestered the guy until he gave him a fake number, and has convinced himself that he made a life-long friend to this very day.

Big oof.

Later, back at Swerve’s, Swerve is busy cleaning the glassware when Ultra Magnus comes in, sober and having just gotten out of surgery to fix his fuel tanks. Guess that second sip of Nucleon really wasn’t a good idea.

Swerve tries to tell a lie about what happened the night before, only to have the dawning horror that Magnus remembered the entire night, as he’s presented with a new badge. Swerve, bolstered by the fact that, while Magnus didn’t enjoy the previous evening, he appreciated having company, begins to ask Magnus if he’d want to room with him.

Wow, zero for three! That’s rough, buddy.

Kind of a bummer end to this whole issue, but it was still decently light, tone-wise, for MTMTE. A great deal of fun was had, in between all the mortifying reveals of our characters inner demons.

...Well, shit.

[lux-talks-a-lot]

New Episode Reactions!!! Pt 1

AHHH, I have so many feelings ya'll!! This episode was so awesome and the art was absoulty suberp! Thomas and the whole crew worked so hard to get this out and it really paid off! I just wanted to run through all the amazing things in this ep now that I've watched it once!

I'm warning you now this is mostly just me gushing about amazing and great everything is because it's very amazing and great! Strap in for spoiler central!!!

First of all the thumbnail is just amazing

Starting off with Thomas being incredibly relatble and awkward, we love to see it!

ROMAN!!!!

VIRGIL!!!!!

I love that this confirms that the sides just pop up in Thomas's day to day life and bully him, it's great

Side notw: I love how the artists drew Thomas in this, he looks adorable

OMG prinxiety poping out the godamn clothing hanging thing to call thomas old makes me very happy

I love that this whole episode is Virgil and Roman bonding, it is fabulos.

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT I LOVE YOU MEANS TO THEM?"

"You told me to say it!"

"STOP PLAYING YOU PEOPLE'S HEARTS THOMAS"

I love this so much

There is a whole lot of lying here but I have yet to spot a single snake boi :(

I know Jan had a whole thing last episode but like... I miss him :(((

HEART EYES ROMAN!!!!! BEING SO GODAMN DRAMATIC!!!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

"*long poetic description of feelings*"

"What?"

"*SIGH* Cutie at twelve-o-clock."

Prinxeity's dual calling of bullshit when Thomas says he's not interested

WHY IS ROMAN ME WHEN I SEE A CUTE GIRL IN PUBLIC

Virgil pulling fucking boniculars just out of nowhere

"He's got some stickers on his laptop."

"Pretty gay~" *finger gun*

Virgil laying down introvert laws on stickers is great and very true (in unrelated news, I need to buy more stickers for my laptop)

Nico's a disney fan too!!!!

I kind of love that it was the Nightmare Before Chrismas sticker that sealed the deal for them because it's something that's very Roman and also very Virgil

Also how can you not take that sticker as clear sign from the universe that this will end in roman and happily ever afters, I'm with Roman here (when am I not tho?)

"You can live like Jack and Sally..."

I don't why Virgil calling Roman doofus is so funny and dorky to me but it is and I love it. I want them to get along but I want to keep the banter and little insults that don't mean much

"Why forget your spectacles at the retirment home?"

"Those jokes are getting old..."

"You would know..."

I love the gentle bullying

YOU SEE SOME BUTTONS; YOU BUTTON IT!!!!!

PINTERVERTS!!!!

THIS IS WHY I LOVE SEEING THESE INTERACTING!!!!

Seeing Roman and Virgil with the head sets and mics really makes me want to like make a rodio hosts AU, they'd defintly be interesting pair to listen to. Oh! or like a podcast thing or something! I'd listen to it!

Also the backseat driving from prinxiety is great

"I'M NOT MAX! I'M PRINCE ROMAN -"

Also that godamn, you got five seconds thing gave ME anxciety

"great."

"great indeed."

"GREAT INDEED!"

boiled. mayo. carrots. what the heck thomas.

"The only logical next step. Go home and regret everything." Virge, buddy, pal, chill for like five seconds.

"No man!"

"Uh, it's RO-man. With an R? You're really struggling today."

Ro, buddy, pal, princey, never change.

"When it comes to anti-social etiquette, I'm a triple expert. An ex-ex-expert!"

"Easy tiger" This is flirting right? This is defintly flirting. They are flirting!

GAY EYES!!!!

Roman doing the gay eyes and the little noises AHHHH, I'm dying, i'm deceased, my ghost is writing this

Side note: I'm really tempted to become a patron just to see the live action version of this scene alone, imagine my friends, imagine

Gay eyes have never worked for me either

DISASTOR!

"No DO look at youself Thomas. Because that was a test and you failed!"

"You were testing me!?!?!"

"Oh no, I was just panicking."

I love them

I also love all of Virgil's instenseness in this episode because honestly very relatable to my own anxiety but also the art was just really great

 “If you don’t have anything nice to say... you’re a dirty lier.”

God the whole pretend you’re leaving was so funny and gave me such secondhand embrassement, it was so good

“I hate to rain on your black parade, Gerard Gay -”

I missed him and his nicknames SO MUCH

Virgil and Roman literally pulling Thomas around and making him sit and stand is just so funny to me. it’s like Roman and Logan fighting over control of Thomas’s arms

“You’re making a mistake!”

“If I am I’ll add it to the list!”

Oh. My heart. Roman, darling, no -

Again with the pushing, guys

This poor random passerby who got accosted by Thomas’s awkwardness. I hope they had a good day at the mall at least

THE TRASH CAN!!!!

I love that it’s not just Thomas in the trash can but all three of them

This is another scene I would LOVE to see live action

“You were being a baby about the buttons and the pins had you panicking.”

It’s nice to see Roman helping Thomas get clean in the bathroom

“He’s got birds on the brain! You don’t wanna wing it, Virge? Alright let’s drum up a plan!”

I love the puns but I love Roman trying to help Virge feel better about this more even tho they didn’t end up going with this

“It’s like cyber-stalking but real life”

“So... stalking”

“... OH YOU’RE RIGHT!”

Virgil, sweetie, you’re doing amazing

“Speaking from the heart” Patton, buddy, is that you?

THE MONOLOGUE!!!!

“The mall is where you go when you don’t know what you want because the mall has everything...”

Roman’s face at that line really killed me fam. He is going through some stuff, huh

Actually Roman’ and Virgil’s faces during the whole speech really killed me

OMG THE DUDE IN THE BATHROOM!!!!

All those theories about the next ep being Ro & Virge bonding through mutual dislike of Janus were sorta right

Also it’s interesting that Virgil is clearly talking about Janus but is still calling him Deciet

Also generally enjoying the calm Prinxeity team up and discussion for once

“No, he’s better off without me.”

AH no, thomas!

Damn I’m so used to Sides Angst the character thomas angst really hit me by the wayside

GAY PANIC

NICO!!!!!

“HE FEARS THINGS TOO!?”

THE GAY PANIC!!!!

“I THINK I SAW A LOT OF WIDE VOWELS?”

“NEVADA????”

“MORE THAN THAT!”

“ANACONDA?????”

“ANACONDA!!!!! HE’S A NIKKI MINHAJ FAN!!!!”

They are such disaster gays

Mishearing the guy and then instead of asking for a repeat, just going along with it is so terribly terribly relatable but god the second hand embrasment

“another chance at happiness squandered.”

break my heart why doncha ya

 The whole sequence of Virgil noticing Roman being so godamn sad and miserable and watching Nico walk away and his breathing speeding up and the wide eyed panic before he pushes thomas is literally my favorite part of the whole damn video! that wasn’t easy for him to do but he did it. for roman and thomas. so that didn’t squader another chance. he was so brave and i’m so proud of him

I really love Nico! He seems so chill and adorable and he took thomas’s flutered rambling so well! and he’s a writer!!! and he winked at thomas!!!

Mr. Florez!!!!

He’s writing a song!!!!!

The song explanation calling thomas out is kind of adorable

this whole meet cute is kind of adorable

“THAT WAS YOU?” “ARE YOU OKAY?”

brusied ego, aw does that mean Patton’s gonna be taking care of Ro like the last time Thomas got a brusied ego

MY SECOND FAVORITE PART OF THE VIDEO: Ro’s soft little “Shut up, emo” and the little hearts and his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and Virgil’s little smile at him and the whole calling Virge brave!!! It was all so so so good!!!!

End Card Time!!!!!

Thomas calling Roman a punk is adorable

Also Janus’s Corridor Of Stored Rewards!!! Amazing

Everyone coming back all excited and giddy really matched my own excitement and giddiness and I love it

LITERAL SCREAMS OF JOY

Virgil’s purple sparkly eyeshadow because he’s happy is so so pure and amazing and I kind of want to try out that look myself

“Thomas I’m gonna need you to walk around the entire room - yes thank you- that helps somehow”

even more things to project onto Virgil with, thank you

I haven’t seen Virgil smile this much in one episode before and it is really watering my crops, clearing my skin, rasing my grades, saving my whole ass year -

The dark eyeshadow returning at Thomas’s subtweet is great and very relatable

Virgil asking what is things are never the same again but with light eyeshadow and the clearly more hopeful outlook on things makes me so very happy

I love Roman being excited but like we don’t see virgil so giddy nearly as often and it’s just so heartwarming

Roman trying to get them to go to France on V-day and Virge actually going along with the idea!!!

Virgil telling Thomas to do the happy flappies!!!!

Virgil’s face at ‘are u ready for this’ kills me

But the deepening panic voice when the dog barks and his reaction to Ro telling him to relax was great

in summary: I though based on the title this was going to be the other sides flirting with Virgil and honestly I wasn’t that far off

[slashermom]

Affliction lll

Affliction l & ll

The sun was going down in the little town of Ambrose when you stopped by the service station. A cool breeze swept by and brought goosebumps to your skin as you peaked your head in the front door in search of the harshest of the Sinclair brothers.

“Bo, you in here?” You talked over the raging music and before you could take another step into the small building Bo’s head peaked around the corner to meet your gaze.

“Hey, you need somethin?” He stepped away from whatever he was working on, wiping his hands on a dirty red rag.

“No, I’m just going to be heading into town and was wondering if you needed anything while I was there?” You shrugged and watched him lean against the door and cross his arms over his chest.

“Well isn’t that mighty kind of you.” The corners of lips curving upwards and his eyes narrowing on you.

“What can I say? It’s just the kind of person I am.” Your tone was jovial and you threw your hands up in the air as if admitting defeat. Bo chuckled before pushing off the door frame and taking a couple of steps back into the garage.

“I think I’m all set. But what you can do for me is hand me my hat.” He motioned behind you to the counter where the dirty old thing laid abandoned. You turned on your heels snatching up the poor cap that had definitely seen better days and spinning back around to hand it to its owner.

“You should let me wash it. Poor thing needs a little TLC.” Examining it briefly before Bo fitted the hat back on to its rightful place on his mess of brunette hair.

“This here’s my good luck charm. I’m not gonna let you just wash all the luck out.” Bo was quick to shut down the idea and laughter bubbled up between you two.

The enjoyable moment was spoiled when you realized you were not alone.

A woman who couldn’t have been much older than you and Bo stood in the garage doorway. Blonde hair greasy and clumps of wax stuck to her strands and coated her back and shoulders. Her white blouse torn and pants dirtied no doubt from a harrowing escape. But her appearance wasn’t what held your attention, it was the handgun held tightly in grasp.

She had caught on that the two of you had seen her and the hand holding the firearm shot up and was pointed in the direction of you both.

“Woah, sweetheart. Why don’cha lower the gun?” Bo’s strides were slow and his tone was confident. A hand sweeping behind his back and motioning you to stay back and behind him.

“No! Not until one of you mother fuckers gets me a phone or a car!” Her demands were clearly non-negotiable.

“We’ll getcha a phone. Hell, I’ll pull my truck out and you can use the phone in the truck. But you gotta put the gun down.” Bo was a master bullshit artist and you knew it. But whether the woman believed it was a completely different story. You could hear the blood flowing in your ears, nerves eating you from the inside out as you prayed that she wouldn’t shoot Bo point-blank in the face.

“I-I-I know who you are! I know what you’re doing and I’m not gonna let you do this to anyone else!” Her threat radiated off the walls of the garage as a shaky finger squeezed the trigger. Bo‘s fine-tuned reactions were fast enough to dodge and snatch her arm and hold it high as two more shots discharged from the handgun. She screamed and thrashed in his hold before his elbow crushed against the side of her beat red face; dropping to the floor in a pitiful lump in front of him. Bo sighed, tossing the gun away from her body before turning back to you.

“Y/N, are you al-“ His throat went dry. His heart slamming in his chest cavity and legs turning to jello as he followed your arms all the way to the large hole that was ripped into your abdomen. Crimson fluid seeped out and trickled down your fingers, leaking on to the smooth concrete. A pair of glassy eyes met his and his jaw slacked, time stopped and it was just the two of you. Staring at each other in an attempt that if neither of you moved what was happening would stop.

“Bo?” Your back smashed against the workbench before you hit the ground with a deafening thud. He doesn’t even remember processing the thought to rush to you, he just immediately was by your side. Pressing calloused hands onto your wound as he tried to keep as much blood from flowing out as possible. Bo frantically looked around for anything, anything at all that could help you. Your slow, careful words startling him and bringing his full attention back to you.

“You have to take care of him for me, you have... you have to promise me.” It was a breathless and choked filled request. Bo had heard the same cadence from his victims when they were hanging on to their life by shreds. It was pitiful and not like you.

“What’re you talkin’ like that for? You’re gonna be just fine darlin’” He was panicking. He pushed harder on your stomach and winced as he heard you cry out louder. Bo screamed out for his twin - he couldn’t move you - not like this.

“Bo, please, for me.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes. Here you were, life leaving your body and you weren’t begging him to save you or to make the pain stop but to take care of Vincent. It was in those precious few seconds that Bo finally understood.

With that understanding, he decided he could do that, for you.

He nodded and swallowed hard. You smiled and his eyes followed the tears that streamed down your cheeks. You moved a hand from his and brought it up to his jaw, fingers softly resting there. Smearing your blood across his sun-kissed skin, Bo leaned into your frail touch and felt a sting spread up his whole body.

Not like all the other times you touched him, those were gentle and in a way bittersweetly euphoric. No, this touch stung because he knew this would be the last time he would ever feel your skin against his.

It was like watching the impossible happen as you pushed your final breath out in a pathetic wheeze. Your movements frozen and face dull, suddenly, you shared more in common with the wax resident of Ambrose than you did him.

“No, no, no.” He moved his hands from your stomach to your face, bringing you closer too him.

“Hey, Y/N, c’mon darlin’ look at me!” Bo was suddenly a helpless boy again, strapped down to a high chair thrashing as control was ripped from him. Bo told himself he was past that point, nothing will ever hold him down or be taken away from him outside of his own volition. But just like everything in his life, it didn’t go according to plan.

Bo began shaking you, begging you, pleading you, screaming out for you to look at him. Just look at him like you did when you first met, when you put stitches in his arm that rainy night, when you sat on the porch and laughed with him.

It didn’t make any sense as to why this hurt him as much as it.

You were never Bo’s to lose in the first place.

But looking at you, in his arms, reminiscing on everything you once were, Bo felt like he lost the biggest battle.

“Fuck! C’mon!” His screaming was strangled and painful, a familiar tone he had when he screamed at social services not to separate him from his brothers. Damming them all to hell as he was shoved into the backseat of a car and driven away from Vincent and Lester.

Through the panic and delirium, he didn’t pick up on the fast-approaching footsteps, too busy with fighting his mind on the right words to ask for your forgiveness.

He had failed you, just like he knew he would.

It was the clang of metal hitting the floor that brought Bo back. Angry eyes coming up to meet the sight of his twin, Vincent’s shoulders heavy as realization seeped into him. Bo slowly removed his large hands from your head, dragging the pads of his thumbs down your raw tear stricken cheeks and painting your face with your own blood.

He pushed himself away from your once life-filled body carefully before standing on two unsure legs. Vincent took quiet steps towards you, almost like you were asleep and didn’t wish to wake you. He slumped to the ground and collected you into his chest.

Bo’s legs seemed to have a mind of their own as he shuffled towards the gun that fired the bullet and effectively ripped your life from you. Picking it up and turning back to the woman who was slowly coming back to reality. There wasn’t room for a second thought before Bo aimed and the gun at her head and pulled the trigger, over and over again.

Each fire of the gun he saw your face.

Heard your laughter.

Felt your touch.

Then suddenly he felt nothing at all.

It was nauseating numbness as his mind turned into a blank slate. Maybe it wasn’t even numbness at all. Perhaps it was the overwhelming feeling of everything at once that was sending Bo into overdrive. After the gun was emptied into the woman’s skull and he let it fall back to the ground he didn’t bother to look at his twin as he muttered his next words.

“This is all your god damn fault, y’know that right?” Bo seethed. “She would still be here if you weren’t so fuckin’ useless!” Vincent didn’t acknowledge his brother, but he was taking in every single word. Bo finally turned around to face the tragedy that happened in a matter of seconds. Watching as his brother held you in his arms, his mask discarded at his side as he worked through how he could make this right.

“Clean up this fuckin’ mess.” He spat before turning back and leaving the service station to polarize this moment by itself. Bo didn’t get very far down the road before Vincent’s gut-wrenching cry ripped through the night sky like scissors through paper and shot up Bo’s spine like a strike of lightening.

It’s night like these that make Bo wish he never came back to this town.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Chapter 17

Coming Home

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

Word count - 3,124

Warnings for surgical procedure, somewhat graphic. Blood and gore, minor.

_________

~~~~Nico~~~~

Nico took a deep breath and stepped forward, ducking under the yellow tape criss-crossing over the open doors of the subway. The acrid stench of death hung in the air, mixing with the signature piss and sweat of the underground. Not a pretty smell.

But the view horrified her, too. Cracked glass and smeared blood, a few bullet casings and two blue-clad bodies lying on the floor like dolls discarded by a child with a new toy. Her comrades deserved so much better.

Her heart clenched as she saw their frozen faces. It was Franklin and Taylor; she’d chatted with them by the water cooler the other day. Taylor told her that stupid joke about the zero and the eight, and Franklin… he was only just learning the ropes. His whole life ahead of him.

It made her want to scream.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the unfairness of life. It twisted her up and spat her out more than once over the years. She’d fought tooth and claw to get where she was, struggle didn’t surprise her anymore. Misfortune had a cruel tendency to affect kind folks more than those who deserved it, but she always hoped to change that, even just a little. To leave the world better than when she entered it was all she wanted from life, despite how difficult the battle was. She could deal with the bad shit.

Still sucked to see the bad shit, though.

We gotta catch this fucker.

Balled fists held tight at her sides, she forced her eyes away from the corpses of her brothers in arms to scan the scene for any evidence that might lead to tracking down the psychopath who ended their lives. Anything would do, any thread she could tug to unravel the mystery and get to slap cuffs on the bastard. She’d never wanted to catch a criminal so badly, so deeply it kept her awake at night.

I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re going down, V.

The background check hadn’t given them much - he’d come from a middle class family, nothing remarkable about his childhood other than his fascination with art. By all accounts, while his young friends were off causing mischief, he’d be found visiting a museum or practicing his brushwork.

That is, until the shooting.

Regardless of his crimes, her heart went out to the poor bastard. Surviving a mass shooting by the sacrifice of a friend was enough to traumatize anyone. It was a damned shame (and an embarrassment to the healthcare system) that he didn’t get the help he needed afterward.

Still didn’t excuse killing folks, though.

At least they had one lead to follow - the doctor. After the dark-haired lunatic fled her apartment, it didn’t take long to get a search warrant. Techs were combing through the place, but they already had enough to put her away for at least a decade. Lobotomizing her own father, un-friggin-believable.

Tony was in shock, caught completely off guard by the doctor’s actions. His own hand-picked medical consultant, in league with the killer they hunted. A twist for the history books, he’d said. She’d never seen him so dumbfounded.

Despite being proven right about her suspicions, it turned Nico’s stomach to see the emptiness in Waras’s father’s eyes, the lack of humanity left behind. He was lucky to be alive, supposedly, but Nico had her doubts. Maybe death was a kinder fate than what the poor man endured.

He’ll never be the same. None of us will.

“I got a blood trail!”

Nico’s lips curved into a predatory smile. Franklin must’ve wounded the fucker, his last act one that could lead to the arrest of his killer. Cold comfort to his loved ones, but still. It was something.

~~~~Kotomi~~~~

The familiar click of her heels on cement vanished amidst the cries of the crowd. Enraged faces lined the entrance to Mundus Psychiatric Hospital, signs and shouts overwhelmingly oppressive. At least they weren't throwing fruit today. She’d count her blessings.

The protests first started a few days after the local news announced that V was the lead suspect in the recent killings, and that he’d escaped the historically secure facility. Citizens fearing for their safety flocked to the streets, calling for the hospital to close and the patients to go elsewhere, though nobody seemed to know where.  As long as it wasn’t here.

Nobody cares about an actual solution, just that the problem gets dumped on someone else’s lap.

Then one of the orderlies told the tale of the fire, heightening the rage and terror. Malphas still hadn’t figured out who talked, but when he did, heads were going to roll. The director’s professional reputation was irrevocably tainted, along with the entire staff (though his was the only name being slandered in the streets).

It shocked her to see normal people so furious. People who barely registered the hospital’s existence before, now vilifying it at every opportunity. It didn’t matter that the place housed mostly harmless individuals, or that the staff genuinely tried to help them heal. All the goodwill vanished in the wake of V’s rampage.

“Bitch! Don’t you care that folks are dying?!”

Kotomi flinched as a protester caught her gaze and stepped forward from the picket line, foam-flecked lips spewing vitriol. She moved faster; maybe she could get inside before it got any worse.

“How many innocent people have to get slaughtered before you fuckers close this shithole?! Give ’em all the chair, I say!”

She crossed her arms and curled her shoulders inward, her heart hammering as she tried to pass the man by. She only wanted to go to work. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She hadn’t done any harm.

That’s not quite true…

In a way, it was all her fault. If she hadn’t frozen up during the fire, maybe things would have turned out differently. Why did she always freeze when it mattered most?

Her thoughts stopped as the man grabbed her shoulder, his grip tight enough to bruise. His rancid breath fanned over her face as he shouted at her, the words lost in the wake of her terror. Quaking legs barely kept her upright as her body flooded with adrenaline, her pupils dilating and sweat blooming on her palms and forehead. Maybe if she stayed quiet, he’d let her go? Could she just wait it out?

What choice did she have?

And then a familiar voice called her name, a pair of worried brown eyes replacing those of the protester as Rob led her inside. Someone else coming to her rescue yet again, because she lacked the strength to save herself.

“Are you alright, Dr. Ishida?” he asked.

She forced her fingers to relax their iron grip on her purse strap. “I- I think so.”

Rob sighed and glanced back at the crowd, their shouting audible through the glass door. “They’re getting bolder. I’ll talk to Aaron again, there’s got to be something we can do.”

But they both knew there was little point. Until V was caught, nothing would quench the fury of the citizens or lessen their drive to close the facility. Maybe her mother was right, she should’ve gone into a different field. It might be time to walk away.

~~~~V~~~~

The artist grimaced as he limped along, his palm pressed against his thigh to staunch the bleeding and ease the pain. Each step he took brought another pang of agony, and he couldn’t find an exit wound- the bullet remained. He’d have to get it out and treat the wound. First, however, he needed to find a safe place to recuperate.

He leaned against a shipping container, cautiously lifting his palm to check the blood flow. It was slowing, at least. Progress. His belt proved an effective tourniquet. 

A gust of icy wind reminded him of his precarious position. The warehouse district wasn’t prone to pedestrians, which meant fewer eyes to spot him, but it also meant he stood out like a sore thumb to anyone who wandered by. He couldn’t afford to stay here long.

Keep moving. Can’t stop now.

He hobbled on, gritting his teeth against the pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead, itchy as it dripped through his hair. Aches ricocheted through his body, his muscles tired and close to quitting on him. He needed rest, a reprieve and a chance to plot his next move. Where could he go?

His friends stayed oddly silent. Did they abandon him? Unlikely, but he couldn’t discount the possibility. Either way, he had only himself to rely on.

Relying on others teaches one not to stand on their own. This is better.

Before long, his mind wandered to the worst three minutes of his life. It was inevitable after the reminders at the subway, the familiar crack of thunder as guns fired. How much pain had Nero endured that day? They said he’d been hit six times.

“Six… Six twelve Oak street…” he muttered. His vision swam and the artist faltered, shaking his head at his own foolishness.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Today was the day; he’d been looking forward to it. He’d had his doubts at first, but with each session Nero’s skill improved. The edges of his latest tattoos featured crisp definition, the whorls perfectly curved to follow the natural shape of his biceps.

The artist didn't notice the flush in his face and the dazed film in his eyes as he turned and set off in a new direction, his steps unsteady but determined. A slight smile graced his lips. What design would Nero add to the canvas of his flesh this time?  

~~~~Reader~~~~

You sprinted to your ancient car, barely noticing the absence of the undercover cop car as you forced the engine to roar to life. No doubt they’d seen V leave and given chase, which meant you didn’t have the choice of going back to your apartment. The police would search it from top to bottom.

They’re going to find the sketches…

It seemed so long ago that the artist first grasped that tiny nub of charcoal in your office, portraying your face in shades of grey. The roller coaster hadn’t stopped since that day, and it showed no signs of slowing.

But fuck it. No sense dwelling on what could’ve been, the life you could’ve had if you hadn’t requested his case. What was done was done. Time to get on with it.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled onto the main road. An aggressive guitar solo blared out and you winced as you turned the volume down, switching the channel a beat later. Social media probably had better info than the radio, but reading and driving didn’t mix.

“-unarmed but extremely dangerous. Police are advising locals to leave the area immediately. Last sighted exiting the subway station on 119th street, but current whereabouts unknown-”

The subway. Smart.

As if you’d expect anything less.

Within ten minutes, you reached 119th. Flashing lights and sirens greeted you, blue-clad officers milling around as one of them plastered crime scene tape over the railing. Mid-morning sunlight streamed down like a sick spotlight.

If V was here, he was beyond your reach.

Shit.

You turned at the next cross street. The police undoubtedly had your license plate by now, you’d need to do something about that. No sense lingering in a place chock full of them. But where to go? Where would V go?

A soft ding stole your attention; a new message. You crossed your fingers as you pulled over to check your phone.

It wasn’t far, maybe a five-minute drive. Thank the heavens, at least now you knew he hadn’t gotten arrested. Yet.

Still�� the message had you worried. It lacked his usual eloquence and wit, and didn’t say whether he was physically okay. Shots fired, the TV said. You pursed your lips and pulled back into traffic, mind whirling with uncountable ways V might be injured. By the time you parked a block away from the quaint, two-story house, you could barely breathe through the anxiety.

Grabbing your backpack, you didn’t even bother locking the car as you speed walked to the yellow front door. What would you find within? If they hurt the artist, would you be able to help? What if only his corpse awaited you?

You swallowed thickly and tried the doorknob. Unlocked; you took a deep breath and entered. Nothing immediately jumped out at you. Photos of a white-haired teenager lined a nearby wall, a hall table holding mail and a dish to leave one’s keys in beneath them. No blood stained the walls, no sounds of pain echoed from another room. It was quiet.

“V? Are you here?”

No answer. Not good. You set aside your backpack and tried again, making your way through the home. Each second he didn't respond only heightened your fear, stinging your tongue with metal. He had to be seriously hurt or incapacitated somehow, and neither option helped the situation.

“V? Come on, where are you?” Your voice shuddered.

“...curse my stars…”

You spun and raced toward the voice, tearing open a door you’d missed before to find the artist, curled up on a massive bed. Blood stained the sheets, concentrated near his thigh. Sweat coated his brow and his eyes stared at nothing, unseeing in the grip of his pain and madness.

“...love so high…”

“Don’t worry, V. I’ve got you,” you murmured as you cupped his clammy cheek. Dilated eyes, sweat and warm to the touch. Most likely an infection. You shoved aside your feelings; time to get to work. Right now, he needed your medical care more than anything else you offered.

Fabric rustled as you took a seat beside him and searched for the source of the blood. Through the fabric of his jeans it was impossible to tell, so you quickly tugged them off, taking care to reapply his improvised tourniquet once the cloth was out of the way. Heart pounding, you finally found a darker spot in the tensor fasciae, close to his hip. There was no exit wound.

Oh, V… you walked here with a bullet in your leg?

At least it wasn’t too deep. Odd, but you’d take what you could get. A thin trickle of crimson oozed from the wound, but he wasn’t in danger of bleeding out yet. Assuming he hadn’t bled too much during his escape…

“I need to find supplies to treat you. I’ll be right back,” you said, stroking damp hair from his brow. His skin was on fire. He didn’t respond.

You pursed your lips and left him, searching the bathrooms and kitchen until you had what you needed. A moment more spent thoroughly washing your hands, and you returned. The artist hadn’t moved an inch.

Is he having an episode, too? Maybe that’s for the best, it’s possible he won’t notice when I take out the bullet.

The best you had was a longer than average pair of metal tweezers. If they didn’t do the job, you’d have to widen the wound. Thankfully it wasn’t close to any major arteries, so you were confident you had the skills to remove it safely. A few inches to the left, and he would’ve already been dead for an hour.

“Okay, this might hurt,” you told him, pausing for a moment before dousing his thigh with a mixture of bottled water and table salt. After a moment you turned him so the excess fluid spilled out, leaving the wound clean and ready. You gave him one last look as your fingers wrapped around your tool. The head lamp you found in the kitchen flared to life with a touch and you straddled his injured leg, keeping it as still as possible.

“Now for the really fun part…”

The artist twitched feebly as you probed the hole. For once it seemed his episodes were a blessing; if he were even remotely coherent, he surely would have screamed.

Centimeter by centimeter, you searched for the signature resistance of metal surrounded by human tissue. More blood leaked from the wound, drenching your hands and slowing your progress. Muttered verses occasionally interrupted the squelch of your work, but you paid his words no mind. A distraction surgeon never helped.

At last you found it, an unrelenting hardness amongst the fibrous muscle. You tapped around the bullet, getting a feel for its dimensions before making your move. The tweezers barely opened wide enough to take hold, but they did the job and you felt the bullet disturb the surrounding tissue as you slowly drew it out with a satisfying plop.

You sighed and set aside your prize. Another round of improvised saline later, you carefully sutured the wound closed and bandaged the area. The artist still made no indication of awareness, just lying there as you put him back together.

The moment you set down the roll of bandages, you started trembling. V’s blood covered your hands, the sour stench of sweat and chemicals hanging in the air. As pointless as it was, you couldn’t help but wonder why life had to be this difficult. The last twenty-four hours alone had your nerves begging for a break. What a sick world, where you had to remove a bullet from the man you lo-

Holy shit.

Air slipped from your gaping mouth as you fell back against the wall. A manic chuckle followed, then another. Was this what love was like? You’d never come close to it before, to this burning like fire in your soul. The thought of losing V mere hours ago had you in tears, falling apart like an infant without its mother for the first time. When you were with him, despite his murderous and unpredictable nature, you felt safe.

And the things you’d done for him - withholding medical information, lying to your boss and risking your medical license, everything you’d spent years working towards; not to mention what you did to your father.

He’d forced you to face yourself, someone you didn’t even know anymore. Changed your understanding of the world and of art, torn asunder your preconceptions and lit the way to new views. The eloquence of his speech, the grace in his movement, the curve of that smirk and the way his presence changed the atmosphere of any room…

I don’t know if this is love, but I don’t have another word that fits. Not even close. 

It was twisted; it was soaked in blood and violence, but you felt more authentic than you ever had. You smiled. Decades ago, you accepted that you might not be capable of love. 

How wonderful to be wrong.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[loove-persevering]

Working Girl (Steve Harrington x Reader) Part 1!

Description:  All Y/N wanted to do is make some money and find a way to travel outside of Hawkins, which landed in her being employees at Hot Dog on a Stick in Star court mall. But when she’s taken by Russians hidden within the mall and held hostage she finds herself questioning if she will ever get the chance to leave or will she die under this secret facility alone? That is until Steve Harrington shows up. 

Warning:  violence 

 It was cold, you were strapped to a chair the friction against your skin caused you to have rope burns from trying to wiggle out. You had no clue where you were, how long you had been there, or even if you’d made it out alive at this point. 

 They had beaten you multiple times in the period of time you had been taken, you couldn’t keep count of how many times you had the wind knocked out of you. After the first night you thought it couldn’t get worse you laid on the floor of the room your head throbbing and your jaw felt like it was broken but luckily you knew it wasn’t, but that still didn’t stop you from having some serious pain. The following day they came in and threw you around some more and then more and more and more. 

 The last time they came in though you had a plan, you were sure as hell not going to die in here. You could always hear their voices coming down the hallway and the footsteps ushering past your room so you had it down to a science. They had the door locked which meant there was a break of about five to ten seconds before they entered the room after the footsteps had stopped. So last time you waited, you had a metal chair in the room and the past two times it was the same guy only coming in so your plan was to throw it at him and make a run for it.

Obviously that didn’t work because you were now tied to a chair and beaten even worse. Only one guy ended up coming in and while the chair successfully knocked him down as soon as you opened the door another man towering over you was there to ruin the plan. He picked up the chair you had thrown and sat it in the middle of the room his hand gripping your upper arm tightly. He used his walkie talkie to call in help which came fairly quickly, they brought a rope and tied you down as tight as possible, the rope was painful rubbing against your skin so the more your struggled the more you ended up hurting yourself.

 Now you were sitting in a room by yourself completely unaware of where you were or if you were even going to make it out to see the light of day again. Your head was hanging low as the tears fell from your cheeks silently, your body was covered in bruises and you knew you had a black eye as well as blood dripping from somewhere because it had fallen onto your uniform. You heard the door click signaling the Russians were coming in and you slowly lift your head feeling defeated and low on energy. You couldn’t remember the last time you had something to eat, let alone drink. 

 ‘’Well, well, well,’’ You heard what you assumed was the lead man saying his accent thick. ‘’We have escape artist on our hands!’’ He says letting out a small chuckle looking back the rest of the mens faces stone cold. ‘’We will not ask again,’’ He says tauntingly leaning down holding your face up with his hands his fingers digging into your cheek as you attempt to pull away. ‘’Who?’’ He pauses, ‘’Do you work for?’’ 

You let out a sob, ‘’I told you I don’t work for anyone,’’ You say out of frustration, ‘’I work in the mall! You know where all the shops are?’’ You ask him. ‘’You think a spy wears this uniform?’’ You ask gesturing to your yellow, blue, red and white uniform. 

He looks back at this colleagues and laughs and they all laugh lightly with him. ‘’Who do you work for?’’ He asks once again leaning down toward your face. ‘’Last chance,’’ He says sternly. 

 ‘’I don’t work for anyone!’’ You yell in his face the tears still falling. 

He leans back away from your face taking a few steps back as well his hands behind his back as he looked down at you, ‘’The girl needs a doctor,’’ He says his voice sounding menacing making your head perk up. ‘’Let’s bring her the best,’’ He says a small smirk making its way to his face as he stared straight into your eyes. 

 ‘’No, no, no!’’ You yell, ‘’Please,’’ You let out another sob. ‘’Please don’t!’’ You yell as he lets out a laugh turning around and walking out the door the others soldiers in pursuit as you continued to scream for mercy, at this point you didn’t know how much else you could take. 

________________-

STEVE’S POV

‘‘The gate,’‘ I say to Dustin at the same time he says it to me. We both look back at the gate for a few seconds before looking back at each other, we gesture for Robin and Erica to come with us before we get caught. 

As we make our way down the stairs I can hear Robins panicked voice, ‘’I don’t understand you’ve seen this before?’’ She asks. 

‘‘Not exactly,’‘ I tell her. 

‘‘Then what exactly?’‘ She demands looking back at me as we make our way down the stairs. 

‘‘All you need to know is it’s bad,’‘ Dustin answers for me. 

‘‘It’s really bad,’‘ I tell her remembering how hard it was last time to get the gate closed. 

‘‘Like end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad,’‘ Dustin elaborates finally making it to the bottom of the stairs. 

‘‘And you know about this how?’‘ Robin says sounding distressed and confused, although I couldn’t blame her this was me two years ago when I found out. 

‘‘Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?’‘ Erica calls out making all of us look to the floor where a few minutes ago the unconscious Russian man was laying. At that exact moment a red light flashes along with a blaring alarm to go with it, I run to the door looking out hoping this was for something else but when I do I see the man who was suppose to still be unconscious was holding his nose talking to multiple others guards who looked up noticing me. 

‘‘Shit,’‘ I mutter slamming the door shut looking back at everyone. ‘‘Go, go, go, go, go!’‘ I yell hearing Dustin mutter a shit in the commotion of it all, shit was right. We sprint back up the stairs and into the lab that just moments ago we were looking at in almost amazement, ‘‘Move! Let’s Move!’‘ I yell knowing if we got caught . that things would be bad for everyone. When Dustin walks into the lab all of the scientist look back at us confused and Dustin freezes, ‘’Go! Shit! shit, shit, shit!’’ I yell as I make my way through the door. 

 We run down the stairs and I can hear the Russians yelling behind us as we come right next to whatever was shooting into the gate, ‘’Holy Shit, Holy shit!’’ Dustin screams over and over and over. 

‘‘This way!’‘ I yell noticing another set of stairs that seemed to be leading away from the gate. I turn around seeing the guards coming closer and I make a run for it knocking a guard off the stair well surprisingly easy. ‘‘Oh shit! Oh shit!’‘ I yell noticing more guards coming from different areas. I push the empty cans on to them stopping them for a few moments before ushering everyone else in front of me, we run into a room and slam the door and I can hear the Russians run into it pounding on it making it harder for me to keep it closed. 

‘‘Shit!’‘ Dustin screams looking around.

‘‘Help me!’‘ I yell to Robin as she runs over pushing her body against the door as well. 

‘‘Here! Come on!’‘ Erica yells gesturing to the floor where they could make an escape. 

‘‘Come on!’‘ Dustin yells at us.

‘‘Go get out of here!’‘ I yell at him, he tries to argue back but I knew if he didn’t leave now and get help we were screwed, ‘‘No! Just get some help!’‘ I yell at him watching him slip into the floor hesitantly, just as his head slides under the door bust open sending me and Robin to the floor and Russian guards come in quickly pointing their guns straight at us continuing to yell at us as me and Robin hold our hands up in surrender. 

 We sit their for a few seconds hearing them yelling before they lean down and pick us up, ‘’Hey watch it!’’ I hear Robin yell as they hold her arms behind her back, a second later a guard does it to me and I flinch. They’re yelling still as we leave the room and the two guards that have us twist are arms holding a tight grip leading us away from the small room.  I glance over at Robin as we walk down the hallways trying not to cause anymore trouble with the guards than we already had, who knew how close they were to just shooting us right then and there. 

 Eventually they come to a door opening it up and pushing us in them following in pursuit, ‘’Stay with the other traitor,’’ The man spits out and I look to Robin confused. We turn around to find Y/N the girl that went missing tied to a chair her face brutally beaten and blood all over her uniform, I stare at her in shock as she lifts her head looking up at us. 

‘‘New roommates!’‘ She yells with a roar of laughter, I stand their in shock realizing that she went missing that night because she got caught by the Russians, also the fact she wasn’t dead at least not yet although she looked it. Her face was pale her hair was stuck around her face some of it sticking to the blood and she was here laughing like an idiot, what the hell did they do to her? ‘‘Hold up,’‘ She stops laughing almost instantly looking at us up and down, ‘‘Did they send you to give me ice cream?’‘ She asks. ‘‘I love ice cream! love love love ice cream!’‘ She says giggling again, ‘‘Especially if it’s made by Stev-O Harrington!’‘ She says her head leaning back as she laughs again. 

‘‘Y/N?’‘ I call out to her stepping closer, ‘‘What did they do to you?’‘ I ask her. 

 She stops laughing and looks straight at my face, ‘’I have no idea,’’ She pauses and then hiccups, ‘’I feel good, I feel great! I feel- I feel better than ever!’’ She says hiccuping again. 

 I take a look back at Robin who seemed to still be in shock as well, we both give each other the same look. We both knew that Y/N was far from great.

A/N; sorry for the short chapter have an exam this week will probably post next chapter either Wednesday or Thursday!

PERMANENT TAG LIST:@l-ivingformendes , @queenbbarnes , @gwenebear , @depressed-comics (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

TAG LIST: @heykarsyn , @asuperconfusedgirl , @billysgodcomplex , @scxrletbtch , @mochminnie , @ren-ni , @teddiemalfoyvaleska 

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Chain[gun] Reaction

Slim Pickens, well he does the right thing And he rides the bomb to hell Yeah, he rides the bomb to hell

He was young, young and full of promise and potential and all those words the recruiter used to soothe the raw wounds left behind by a yellow letter delivered to the front door of a once happy home.

Whirl, young and bright with eyes like sunshine and a crooked smile, signed his name and soul away in memory of his mother- who loved her son more than she ever loved her sky, even thought it was her sky that sealed her fate.

His father watched with dim and dead eyes as his only son, his bluebird boy, packed his bags and hugged him tight.

“I’ll be fine, Pop- don’t worry, I’ll come home, okay?”

He didn’t know, oh he didn’t know how his future would change with this decision- He had no idea the sound of gunfire and the burn of toxic words and liqour would become lullabies as he watched his unfamiliar claws pretend to be gentle.

And it was brutal, and it was cold. And it broke him and remade him and broke him again as he learned to bare his teeth first in a snarl and then in a manic smile he never knew he possessed. And with orders ringing in his ears and bitter apathy brewing in his heart he pushed and pulled and dragged himself over finish lines and end points that seemed to be farther and farther away from him- flagpoles moved once a month, once a week, once every other day.

If he only knew how he’d be betrayed by the system he served, if only he knew how his midday sunshine eyes would be broken and dimmed and warped from their almost childish dubloon wideness into the narrow slices of molten metal sighting down the barrel of a gun.

And his father gave weak smiles with honest joy as his son looked back over his shoulder as he walked with the graduating crowd; looking back with a lopsided grin like an angel with aircraft wings had done once upon a time so long ago and an artisan filigree heart broke when Whirl smiled.

If only the golden son had known he would set with a flash of fire and a comet’s trail.

And then his father couldn’t smile anymore.

Whirl stood solemn in front of the grave, not feeling the pats to his shoulder, the affectionate squeezes to his arm. He refused to look at the pity in officer’s eyes when he declined reenlistment, refused to see the worry in the eyes of his fellow Corps members when he fell silent for hours. Then days.

When he finally could hold his head up, his father’s shop looked back at him  with dusty windows and a door that still creaked if it opened too wide. And so he began to repair- the building or himself, he couldn’t tell.

The feel of gold and silver and platinum between his fingers, the casual catch of his lower lip with his teeth in concentration, the gentle ticktockticktock of seconds and minutes and hours fluttering away like crows from a carcass; a rustle of dark feathers and bluegrey hair in a loose tail down his back.

They called him an artist, they called him a master. They lauded his new work, they cooed over cogs and wheels and carefully designed faces coated in a countdown to the end of days.

He wondered if he would outlive these creations, when his father didn’t outlive his own.

If he only knew he would not only outlive them, but outlive the memory of his father’s legacy as it was laid to rest.

The Dead End, for him, had it’s draws. Dens of debauchery masquerading as bars or ‘spas’ and any kind of company for the right price. Whirl, his hands curled in his pockets, often wondered to himself why the streetlights didn’t glow red like a warning like in all the old holovids his father used to watch from a gilded age.

It was a thrown bottle that let the Devil’s eye turn to him. A thrown bottle, a mocking laugh, the word “coward” slung coldly at him by a face he only half remembered...

And then his knuckles were coated in blood that wasn’t his own. Once again a sneer painted his face, shattered his crooked grin and darkened his sunshine eyes and he released the shirtcollar of his target to watch them hit the floor facedown with a wet sound like old meat on a butcher’s counter. He looked over his shoulder with his eyes on fire.

“Who’s fuckin’ next?”, he drawls out in a voice made rough by silence and mourning in equal measure; a raven’s hiss of Nevermore, a crow’s caw from the gallows.

Something in him gave up on kindness. Something inside of him broke down like clockparts in a housefire and his cogs ground themselves apart as he rebuilt with fistfights and binges, with questionable company of any and all kinds.

“You were an Aerial Corps prodigy.”, mused the Enforcer of the week, “You’d be... useful, to us.”

He spat on the Enforcer’s shoes, squinting through a busted cheek and grinning with a split lip, “Get fucked, fuzzman.”

“It would be wise to show a little respect.”

“Fuckin’ earn it then, pissrag.”

More bruises, more cracked bones and weakened joints. Nineteen and lost, twenty and cracked like church windowglass and he grunted in muted pain as he laid on his back in a bare cell for an overnight in solitary.

He ignored his father’s voice chiming in the back of his mind, asking him what his mother would think.

He ignored the memory of her laughter his mind called forth against his will.

The cell door opened; hours early, at hours questionable, and he turned his head and made a noise of confusion. The medic beside the Enforcer smiled with nothing behind it, empty as Whirl’s eyes had become, and nodded once.

“That’s the one.”

Whirl sat up slowly, curses and vindictive words dancing on his tongue before a heavy fist flashed across his face and slammed his head into the wall the bench-turned-bed was mounted against.

He wouldn’t wake up until he smelled antiseptic- and he’d wish beyond wishing he hadn’t woken up at all.

When he awoke, his vision blurred and swam and his arms burned like hellfire as the numbness in his face flickered like radio static. He tried to speak, to scream, but the medics around him simply frowned and shook their heads as they loosened the straps holding him down.

He was eased up into a sitting position, and told in flat tones he had ten minutes to gather himself and leave the operating theatre.

“Op-erat-ing?”, he rasped out, before he raised his hand to hold his throat; and he froze solid at what answered his movement.

Ragged and matte-dark, hard steel with a three-point claw on the end. Panic rolled over him in tidal waves and threatened to drag him under as he held his new arms out in front of himself and nearly screamed.

They had taken his hands.

He looked frantically around at the passive and disinterested faces around him before he caught his reflection and his raw voice howled out like a hurricane. A blank patch over one eye with heavily stitched lacerations leading out from underneath it. His chest shuddered and hiccuped, and he felt the covered eye burn like fire as the other leaked viscous red in a thin line.

“Do not worry. Once the removal injuries have healed, there will be no more pesky things such as tears or foolish bickering outbursts.”

Whirl looked up. The surgeon smiled as they pulled gloves soaked in blood off their hands. Their functioning, real hands.

“We have fixed you, Whirl- that is your name, correct? We have repaired all of the flaws in your character with science and scalpels.”

That smile unchanging as horror flooded the channels panic had work into Whirl’s soul.

“Once you are healed, of course; then, you will truly be a Model Citizen.”

Whirl flew at him with a snarl, those claws cinched around the surgeon’s throat and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until the screaming stopped and the doctor’s hands dropped to hang at his sides. Limp, and twitching; and the surgeon gurgled as he was dropped.

Whirl looked up at his reflection one more time before security wardens burst into the room and grabbed fresh prosthetics; ignoring Whirl’s screams and howls as they dragged him out of that sanitized white light.

He was thrown out by three Enforcers, tossed out into the back lot among dumpsters of medical waste and they laughed as he struggled to push himself up to his knees. The sun was setting, his sun was setting, and the sluggish red tears from his remaining eye burned as they trickled free.

He’d learn, later, what was severed and taken. His means of expression burned away and sliced free of his mortal coil. Model Citizen. Emotionless wreck. They knew the way to cage a bird was clip his wings- but they didn’t have to take his ability to cry.

He staggered to his feet, his steps uneven and crooked as he tried to operate with only one half of his vision. He sobbed out for help, he reached out for aid and was met with disgusted looks and threats of further violence and those words chased him and chased him until he stumbled onto the streets that would take him home; take him back to safety and seclusion and softness and-

And fire. And brimstone. And nothing left but a burnt family photo and a pocketwatch from a destroyed desk.

One day, it would be found by a young boy with sunshine eyes. And he’d ask where it was from, and call it beautiful; and Whirl would smile weakly like his father once did to a smiling new pilot and be unable to find the words to explain what it was, what it meant.

Whirl sobbed; on his knees and broken in ways he had no way of knowing yet, he sobbed. He sobbed like a lost child, like a scared boy, like a pilot under fire. He sobbed like a mourning husband and a confused son.

His eye leaked viscous red; there was pressure, there was pain.

And then, there was nothing. There was blank days and a back alley apartment. There was a tiny sting and a heady flight. He was a pilot again, without needing a plane as he stared at nothing and bounced from job to job and came closer and closer to giving up.

And then They found him.

“Sounds like you wanna die.”

“Maybe I fuckin’ do- I don’ exactly look the fuckin’ picture of privileged livin’, do I?”, he snapped.

The man who sat down next to him; dressed in the green of militia’s and murder smiled through his laughter and clapped a hand on Whirl’s shoulder.

“Forty two percent chance you’ll get your wish, kid. And at the very least- you get out of this shithole and three square meals a day.”

“Yeah, and forced sobriety.”

“I don’t care how high you fly or how deep you sink in a bottle as long as you know which way to shoot.”

Whirl looked up, the patch over his scarred blank space slipping slightly, “...A’right, I’m interested.”

“Welcome to the Wreckers; lemme call my ride and we’ll get started.”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

And now, years and bullet-shells and nightmares in the future, Whirl stands at a kitchen counter and chokes on air as his lungs seize and fall still. He smells it, that too-clean stench of medical tools and antiseptic and just washed floors and the light is too bright.

Ratchet swears, realizing he hadn’t changed clothes after a day spent teaching the new doctors dropped in his lap by the university (good kids, good hearts, but almost too gentle for the job) and he calls for Perceptor, he calls for Drift.

Whirl doubles over; he gasps and hiccups and screws his eye shut as newer, better, safer prosthetic hands cover ears that still ring like a battlefield song is playing on repeat.

He feels Perceptor’s cold hands on his shoulders, hears Drift call for the dining room light to be “Shut off dammit!” and he exhales a sob.

He opens his eye. There is pressure, there is pain, there’s a crimson dot on the floor like a scope’s laser sight.

He still, after everything, after healing, cannot cry.

[trying-write-fanfics]

OverhaulXReader part 42 (E)

“I hate you.” Shigaraki said, kicking Overhaul in the stretcher. “Tell me again who the next leader is going to be?”

“Have you come to kill me?” Overhaul asked just above a croak. 

“No, I thought of something you’ll hate even more than that.” Shigraki said. 

 Overhaul was barely conscious. The events of today kept repeating his failure to escape. How he told Pops it was going to get noisy. It was that Lemillion and then that green kid. Overwhelmed, Overhaul did just about everything, but he couldn’t reach those two young heroes to destroy them. Restraint, unable to move. What more could the villain do to him? It was dying here or rotting in prison. 

“I hate you truly.” Said the deranged man. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Mr. Compress marbleized Overhaul’s left arm. What 

next his leg? His head? He was a husk of a man. He wanted it all to be over. Laying there, strapped down felt like an entirety. They were going to pull him apart and squeeze him out, weren’t they? It did hurt, but he was an empty man. His body was exhausted using himself to max potential over and over even if what seemed like a year long battle was only an hour max. He was lost for reactions.

“Two little boxes, which one holds the finished product?” Shigaraki asked, holding the blood bullets. “I’ll just take both.”

“That’s mine.” Reality was setting in. 

“You know what I think, Overhaul?” Shigaraki asked, loading the gun. “Why not test this on yourself?” He asked shooting Overhaul in the shoulder that still had an arm. 

 Overhaul breathed heavily as he felt the pill doing something to his body. He wasn’t going to be able to save the people closest to him! Shigaraki was taking all of his hard work that he sacrificed so much for! 

“But what’s even more-“ Shigaraki began to speak, but the unthinkable happened. 

Someone had climbed on the high way they were on and attacked Shigaraki. The attack didn’t land but they backed up. The attacker stood between overhaul and Shigaraki. 

“It is I- none of your business!” He yelled.

“Get him!” Shigaraki yelled. 

 Shigaraki came for the attacker and then a loud noise erupted. The attacker took out a smoke bomb and began undoing Overhaul. Overhaul recognized it was one of his men saving him, but couldn’t concentrate without a mask. There was more yelling and sirens, but it didn’t matter. Shin had already carried Overhaul off the bridge and into his car below. He loaded Overhaul in the back seat and escaped. 

“Why did you come to save me?” Overhaul asked with a hoarse voice. 

“C’mon don’t be like that, it’s me, one of your valuable expendables!” Shin laughed with the gas mask on. “I was late again today, but turns out my bad habit saved your ass!”

 Shin Maturo. He was a thief and an escape artist. He wasn’t much trouble to the Yakuza, but when Overhaul recruited the young man, he was in the middle of trying to escape his own life. He confessed he was done with running but wasn’t ready to face the consequences, he would be escaping the police one last time and would never be caught. With his charm, Overhaul asked if he wanted some security instead, a different purpose of seeing an entirely new future. Shin agreed and was with the Shie Hassakai ever since. He was a devoted follower, but was always late to things. Though it bugged Overhaul, Shin was ever out on anything too important, just being a thief and distracting police officers. 

“I don’t think there is much saving left for me.”

His left arm was bleeding too much, and his right arm was too numb. Overhaul’s body felt more like a prison. 

“Don’t say that! Don’t ever day that SIR! You had the gull to get into my business on whether I can or cannot throw away my life, so neither do you!” Shin got angry. “I know you’re not going to kill me, let me just get you out of here.”

Shin went to a pharmacy and picked up a first aid kit. He tried cleaning the wound the covering it, but he wasn’t sure what to do next. Overhaul was losing consciousness again as he couldn’t really do much in his situation laying in a back seat of a car.

“Oh shit it says on this google search to keep your feet up. Just keep breathing boss! And stay calm!” Shin said. “I’m letting you bleed all over this car. 

There was not one comment out of Shin’s mouth that was helping. Though he kept wanting to black out he would be jerked back awake again. Shin tool Overhaul to a shady vet to dig the bullet out of his shoulder. It was agony and he couldn’t do anything. The vet even checked out the stub on the other side giving it some proper care.

“I’m not even a real vet. The city took my license away.” The vet told Shin. 

“That sucks what happened?”

“I was selling horse meat and calling it beef.”

“Oh that’s dope, did you at least make a lot of money?”

“Well…” the vet said, applying the damp cold cloth to the wound which caused Overhaul to bite down on the chew toy they gave him to prevent screaming. “I tried to buy a car but they didn’t like my credit score.”

 It was the worst day. The bleeding had stopped but the pain still remained. He wished he could just die, but Shin had a point to give him hell before death. Around noon, Shin managed to get Overhaul to a beach cabin. It was secluded and looked a little abandoned. He helped carry Overhaul to the couch. 

“You look like hell.” Shin said. 

Overhaul didn’t respond. 

“I can keep you here while you recover. It’s my sister’s place. She’s not coming here anytime soon doing an eat pray love sorta thing out of the country.” Shin explained. “Listen man, I don’t know what you feel or what you’re going through, but I didn’t want you to die. You were a dick, but without you stopping me from ending it all, I would have never been able to live the life I have now and it’s one of the best things. I wanna help you, I really do.”

Overhaul’s eyes stayed still. He was in so much pain, it was all he deserved. He was the loser. His fingers flinched as he felt the other little box in his pocket. Y/n… what was she doing now? Probably at work. She was probably scared shitless last night, and today would be no better for her. Finding out her boyfriend’s place was raided, then he was attacked on the way to the hospital and is currently missing. Who knows if she found out about any of that yet. Y/n was still alive, and not in a coma. Pops may pass and never be able to receive the debt he was owed, but Y/n would be forever disappointed. She won’t even understand why he disappeared if no one tells her. He choked on the thoughts. 

“I’ll let you rest now. Just stay here and rest.” Shin told him, bringing Overhaul a blanket.

Overhaul eventually blacked out. His heart still beating.

[bobasheebaby]

Cold Vengeance- Crimson Rain chapter 18

Pairing: Bastien x Liza; Liam x Raven

Word count: 2,458

Warnings: angst, character death, gun violence, sexist bullshit, artistic license

Summary: A problem is dealt with. 

A/N: Huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for being my never ending fruit basket. 

Series warnings: Mobster AU, there will be violence, and death. Possible NSFW to come. Possibly dark and deals with pregnancy loss. If you ask to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own my OC’s, the rest I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Two years ago; Trenton, New Jersey- Liam:

You can do it. This is what you wanted. He tried to reassure himself but his stomach was filled with knots and a feeling of dread. What if father is correct and Madeline is the best person? He shook his head, he couldn’t think like that. He knew even if this wasn’t the life that Raven truly wanted that she was more than capable to lead alongside him.

It was time for him to stop dragging his feet and get it over with. He needed to make it clear to her that he never planned to marry her. He knocked on her door, hoping it sounded more like authority than the nerves he battled. She is not going to be happy. He knew Madeline would likely fight him on this. She always did when he pushed things back, she would certainly fight him on ending the engagement entirely.

“Come in.”

Her shrill voice made a shiver run down his spine. He’d always likened her voice to nails scraping down a chalkboard, loud and harsh. He fixed a smile on his face as he stepped into her room. He would finally be free of her. His father would be less than happy but he was dying; Liam refused to be forever tied to a woman he couldn’t stand when there was someone he actually cared about willing to give him everything he’d always wanted.

“Liam.” Her voice turned sugary sweet as her eyes fell on him.

His stomach roiled. How did I ever agree to an engagement with her? She was so fake and shallow. She never cared for him, only what she would gain at his side. “Madeline, I came to talk to you about our engagement.” The faster he did this the faster he would be rid of her.

“Are you finally ready to set a date?” Her voice grew harder.

He could read the worry behind her words, even as she tried to keep her voice sweet and even; it was fake, just like everything about her. He swallowed. He chose to do this in her room because he knew she would cause a scene. He knew her voice would become higher and shriller than it usually was, she would scream and likely throw things. No, it was best to do it here, but that didn’t mean he was ready for her tirade. “No.” He watched her smile drop. He braced himself for the screams to come. “I’m ending it. We are never getting married.” Maybe it was harsh, but his father taught him to make sure he was clear with his words, to never allow there to be any question as to what he meant.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t accept it. I refuse.”

“I don’t care if you accept it Madeline, I’m not marrying you, ever.”

She let out a high pitched shriek. “You will marry me Liam Rhys! It’s your duty to marry me!”

Liam felt himself fill with anger. His entire life had been mapped out for him since he was eight years old; he was told what to do and who to marry. If he was to rule when his father died, he would do it on his own terms. “Madeline you may scream all you want but I’m not marrying you.” He turned and walked towards the door.

“Nooooo!” She shrieked, her hand wrapped around the crystal vase of flowers. She launched it at the door; the vase shattered, water and flowers raining on the floor.

Liam carefully stepped over the debris. “Goodbye Madeline.”

“I will rule by your side Liam Rhys! I will have the empire I was promised!”

No, Madeline, you won’t. He closed the door behind him. He knew his father would come down on him for his decision, but he would not be forced to marry her any longer.

Present day; Trenton, New Jersey:

Madeline straightened her back. “You should be, you clearly don’t know who I am.”

“I know you think you’re more important than you are. I know you clearly have no idea who I am. I promise you I’m way more powerful than you might think.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. Just another delusional soul, I can handle her easily. Her eyes went wide as Bastien and Olivia stepped up behind Liza and Hope. Who the hell is she?!

Liza smiled. “As you can see I’m far more connected than you are. I have the backing of two families, while you’ve been thrown out of yours.” She lowered her voice so only Madeline could hear. “You take one step near my family today and I will end you no matter who may see.” Madeline blanched. “But make no mistake, mine will be the last face you see.”

Madeline forced a smile on her lips. She refused to be made to cower in fear. Who cares if she knows Bastien?! “You think I’m afraid of him?” She laughed. “The Rhys family kept him cowering for years!”

“Is that what you think?” Liza snorted. “Even if he was scared of The Rhys family you aren’t associated with them anymore.”

Surely she doesn’t know. “Who told you that lie?”

“Liam, when Hope told him about your visit to see Emmaline.” Liza turned to Bastien. “Bas, give me your gun.”

Bastien reached under his jacket and pulled his Glock 19 from its holster, handing the weapon to Liza with a smile.

“You threatened my family. You questioned me. You showed up to the funeral of the woman you murdered. Why should I allow you to walk away?”

Madeline’s eyes darted around looking for a friendly face in a sea of people. “How did I threaten your family?” Madeline pointed at Hope. “She’s Emmaline’s daughter.” As long as she’s talking she’s not shooting.

“Yes, but I’m Bastien’s wife.” Liza pulled back the slide. “Open or closed?”

“Open or closed what?” Hope questioned confused. She knew they did questionable things and the promise Liza made but surely she wouldn’t do it now in the open?

“Casket.” Olivia answered. “Closed I think.”

Liza nodded leveling the gun at Madeline’s head. “Any last words?”

Madeline swallowed. “You can’t—”

Pop

The stillness of the cemetery broke as birds took flight and surprised shrieks filled the air. Liza smiled as Madeline’s body dropped to the ground. “Don’t mess with my family.”

“You know you could have stabbed her.” Olivia looked around as people scattered. “We should get out of here.”

“I didn’t want to get blood on my dress.” Liza said as she replaced the gun in Bastien’s holster. “Come on Hope, let's go home.” She looped her arm in hers, pulling the stunned woman's eyes away from the dead body.

*

Hope shook as she slid into the sleek black SUV next to Liza. She just. Out in the open. Her head swam, she wasn’t sure which way was up, how to feel.

Relieved, she felt less fear than she had since the day she learned of her mother’s death. Does this mean? She was surprised that she felt actual fear that they would send her away now that she no longer needed to worry about Madeline coming after her.

“Hope.” Liza’s voice was soft and full of understanding. “Do you want us to take you back to Linda’s?”

No! She finally found a place where she actually felt like she fit in and she never wanted to leave. She looked up at Liza; maybe she should be afraid to be around her, but all she wanted to do was collapse into her arms. “What? No.” She shook her head.

“Are you sure? We understand if what happened changes things for you.” She paused. “But I couldn’t let her walk away. I knew if I did she could disappear. I’m sorry you had to see that Hope.”

“No. Umm, I mean I was surprised, I didn’t expect you to do it with so many people around, but I understand.”

“Actually it was better that she did it now. So many people, everyone dressed in black, we would be less likely to be noticed.” Olivia looked over from the front seat. “I still say you should have stabbed her.”

“I didn’t want to give her a chance to fight back, plus I really like this dress.” Liza turned back to Hope and took her hand. “Are you sure you want to come back with us?”

“Yes.” I finally have a real family.

“If you ever change your mind, tell us.” Bastien called from the front seat.

Hope glanced out the window, would she change her mind? No. She finally had what she’d searched for her entire life. It was far from a conventional family; sure, they had more secrets than most but she also felt more love with them in a few short weeks than she had in the longest time with Linda. She finally had a place where she belonged. “I won’t.” She looked around the car at her family. “This is where I belong.”

Eight years ago; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania- Bastien/Liza:

Liza glared at the middle aged man sitting across from her. “I don’t understand what we are doing here, there is nothing wrong with her outfit.” She once again scanned Olivia, her shorts were tight but fell below her fingertips, her tank top was flowy and not even remotely low cut.

The principal sighed in exasperation. “Her bra straps were exposed. That’s a clear violation of the dress code.”

“Liv, raise your arms, twist, move about.”

Olivia did as she was instructed, she knew Liza was trying to help, maybe if someone would listen to her it would become clear.

“They aren’t falling.”

“She must have tightened them.” The principal replied clearly annoyed with Liza and her insistence that Olivia hadn’t violated the dress code.

“Maybe if you listened to me.” Olivia hissed under her breath.

“Listened to you about what Liv?” Liza asked.

“Yes, my bra straps were exposed, but it was because of the boy behind me. He kept snapping my bra and when I ignored him he pulled down my straps.”

Bastien grinned as he watched Liza’s face morph in rage. Any meetings with the principal or teacher had become more entertaining since Liza came into his life. He just sat back and let her deal with the incompetence.

“So what I’m hearing is that Olivia was the victim to sexual harassment and yet she’s being sent home for a dresscode violation?”

“Umm… well…” the principal sputtered. “We weren’t aware.”

“You weren’t aware because you wouldn’t listen to the victim. I want the boy punished.”

“We can’t interrupt his education based on hearsay. If someone had seen it, it would be different.”

“But you can interrupt her education based on a bullshit dress code violation? Her education has been interrupted twice now. Once by the boy, once by this meeting, and you want to interrupt it a third time by sending her home when she did nothing wrong. If you refuse to punish the boy but punish her then the problem is you and not what she’s wearing.”

The principal stared at Liza. “Very well, Olivia, you may return to class.”

“Thank you. Next time maybe listen to her before you try to punish her.” I can’t wait to be done with this goddamn school.

Present day; Trenton, New Jersey:

Raven gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as they grew close enough to see the cause of the commotion. Her stomach churned and she had to fight the urge to vomit. As much as she hated Madeline, she never expected to see her like this, her body still, a bullet hole between her blank eyes.

“They didn’t.” Liam’s blood boiled, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. As much as he wanted to deny it, it was clear by the familiar platinum blonde hair and lifeless green eyes staring up at him that they very much did. “She was mine. Mine to deal with, mine to kill.” All the crimes committed by the woman lying crumpled at his feet were done against him; he was the one who should have handled it. A new wave of rage washed over him. They stole his kill and sullied his mother’s funeral. Bastien may not have been the one who initially took his mother from him like he believed but he took his one chance of retribution from him today. Why did they feel they had the right to be here? To do this? He felt consumed by his rage. They clearly had no respect for him. His need for vengeance was pushed to the side. They may have taken his kill but now they left him to clean up the mess.

He considered a cover up, but with so many present a missing body would draw more questions than leaving her be. Police were the last thing he wanted to deal with, but he was trained to handle them. They would question him and take names of the guests, soon they would leave and eventually the trail would go cold. He owned this city, this state, even with the report he could make this go away with ease.

*

Finally, can I just lay my mother to rest?! Liam nodded at the squat detective in cheap, ill-fitting suit rejoined him and Raven. Raven truly was the woman for him, easily turning on the waterworks playing the bereaved friend with ease. “Did you get everything detective?”

“We spoke to the mourners who stayed, were able to gather names from your guest book of those who left. We also spoke to a few mourners who were visiting the cemetery. We will contact those who didn’t hang around, I feel confident we will find the perpetrator.”

Liam suppressed a laugh. He highly doubted that they would have signed the guestbook. It was just as well, the case would soon enough be cold. “Thank you, I trust that you will find however was responsible and they we pay.”

“I’m sorry this put a damper on an already bleak day.”

“Detective!” A young man in uniform shouted. “We have a problem.”

“What is it officer?”

“It seems our victim had a restraining order.”

“Okay, on who.”

The officer swallowed thickly his eyes falling on Liam. “Liam Rhys.”

“This is outrageous. It’s my mother’s funeral.”

“Mister Rhys, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come to the station to answer a few more questions.”

Liam seethed, everything she’d done to terrorize his family and she filed a restraining order against him? All the stars had aligned in the worst possible way leaving him as their number one suspect.

He would clear his name.

He would make them pay.

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

[readbeneaththelines]

Giving Him Control Pt. 7

A/N: No warnings for this chapter

Characters: Ravi x Reader

Warnings: violence, SMUT, slight S&M in the shower

Word Count: 2433

Please remember, this is NSFW. There is the Dom/Sub aspect of the characters, so if that is a trigger, please proceed at your own discretion.

cr. to gif owner

The dance club was packed, the line stretching around the corner. Ravi took you to the front of the line, greeting the bouncer then stepping you both inside. You looked between them, perplexed. The interior was brightly colored, the vaulted ceiling had various colored chandeliers hanging from it. The voices of the latest Kpop artists flowed from the speakers. The crowd consisted of twenty and early thirty something people, eating at large tables or dancing on the mirrored dance floor. He directed you to the bar, pulling a stool out for you to sit on. THe bartender came over, greeting Ravi with enthusiasm.

“Hello boss, what brings you here tonight? Oh, and who is this stunning lady here?’, he asked glancing you over.

“Hello, Kai. I just wanted to see how things were going on our first full weekend. This is Y/N, Y/N this is Kai. There is no better bartender than this fella here.”, he patted Kai’s shoulder across the bar.

“Hello, nice to meet you.”, you said, while looking at Ravi surprised.

“Same here, but better get back before the boss changes his mind.”, he nodded to you both then headed off.

Spinning in your seat, you turned Ravi to face you.He looked startled, then eased up seeing it was you.

“You own this club? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked. Yes I own this club, Octagon, and three ramen restaurants. Oh and I also own Platform Place.”

You mouth hung open, eyes blinking at what he told you. No wonder his place was so big and he always had the nicest clothes. But, you asked yourself, if he controlled so many other things, why did he still feel the need to control his relationships?

Your questions, of course, would probably stay unanswered. He had his reasons, and you weren’t technically in a serious relationship, so you couldn’t ask him. Instead, you just sat in your seat, taking in all he told you.

He sensed your uneasiness, placing a hand on your shoulder. Other patrons came to the bar to greet Ravi, you smiling politely as he introduced you. After several minutes passed, he took you to the dance floor. The instant his arm was around you, his eyes focusing on yours, you were lost again. The world disappeared around you, his face the only thing you could see. You swayed your body in time with his, melding into his embrace. The music had ended, but you were still on the floor. He shook his head, breaking eye contact. You were brought back to reality in a flash, your cheeks heating from his stare.

Leading you off the floor, he returned you to your seat. He told you that he had to step away for a bit and take care of some business in the office. He promised to return quickly, telling you to order dinner for both of you while he was away. Picking up a menu, you were searching through the selections when you heard an unfamiliar male’s voice your ear. Looking over, a young man was leaning against the bartop, drunken eyes mentally undressing you. 

“Excuse me Miss. I saw you dancing earlier, and I was wanting to ask you for a dance.”, his words slurred.

“No thank you, I am here with my date.”, you dismissed him politely.

“Well, I don’t see him around, so maybe just one dance?”, he persisted.

“I said no, now please excuse yourself.”, your tone rising.

The man grabbed your arm, tugging harshly at it, making you fall partially off your seat.

“Please, let me go! I told you no, now get your hands off of me.”

The man continued to hold you in his grasp, causing a scene around you. There was a hand over his, prying the young man’s fingers backwards. At the same instant, a royal blue arm came across your field of vision, snapping the drunk’s head to the side.. Ravi repeatedly hit the man’s face, rage in his eyes. You called his name, trying to get his attention.

“Ravi! Stop, your going to kill him!”, you screamed at him, but to no avail.

The younger man was now on the floor, face bloodied and split. Ravi still wouldn’t stop.

“How dare you touch her, you son of a bitch?! She told you no. Don’t fucking touch her again!”

You had to find a way to stop him, before her murdered the man. Without a second thought, you placed your hand to his chest, pushing him back. What happened next, you never would have suspected. He froze, mid swing, wild blank eyes slowly turning towards you. Fear filled you when his vision settled on you. He was looking through you, his trembling hand, pushing your own hand from his chest. Encircling your neck, he held you at arm’s length, a slight pressure in his fingertips. Putting your fingers around his wrists, you spoke softly to him.

“It’s me. Look at me. Just look at me.”, you pleaded gently.

The cloud lifted from his vision, his hand around your neck registering. Jerking away, he began surveying the scene around him. People were gathered around, phone cameras starting to flash as people talked. You grabbed his hand, pulling him from the growing crowd to his office. You pushed him inside, locking the door behind you. He was standing, still wide eyed, not moving. 

“Ravi, what possessed you to beat that man to a pulp? I had it under control.”

“He laid his fucking hands on you! You are mine. I am the only one allowed to put their hands on you!”, his face turned red as he yelled at you.

“Dammit Ravi, you nearly killed him! That was way over the line of protecting your property!”, you threw your hand over your mouth as soon as the words came out.

“Is that what you see yourself as, to me? My property?”

“I don’t know right now.  All I know is that you scared me, just then. Do you even realize you nearly choked me too?”

He snapped his head up, looking to your neck. Sure enough there were fingerprints around the sides of your neck. They were still red, but he could tell they would bruise later. He was on his feet in an instant, striding over to stand before you. He lowered his head, not wanting to look at you.

“I remember you touching me, touching where it’s off limits. I warned you.”, his eyes still focused on the floor.

“It was the only way I knew to make you stop. I had to do something. I’m sorry.”

You ducked your head, trying to get him to look at you. He just kept turning his head, avoiding you.

Let me take you home. We can leave out the back if you want-”, a knock at the door interrupted you.

Asking who it was, Kai told you he needed to speak with Ravi. You opened the door part way, giving him just enough room to slide in. Locking the door you motioned for him to go ahead.

“Boss, the cops are here, they are wanting to speak to you.”

“Send them in.”

A few minutes passed before the police entered the room. They got your statement, Kai’s, and finally Ravi’s. Thankfully, they let him go, telling you that if they had any further questions, they would contact you. Thanking them, you showed them out, turning to Ravi again.

“Let’s go. I’m getting you out of here, now.”

Kai led you to the back entrance, locking up after you left. You took the keys from his pocket, unlocking the doors and half-shoving him in the passenger seat. Hopping in the driver side, you gunned the car, making it back in record time. You drug him inside and up the stairs, stripping the blood covered clothes off. When he was down to just his underwear, you pulled him to the shower, shoving him under the steaming water. When he just stood there, you stripped down, joining him. You grabbed the loofah, squirting his bodywash on it and scrubbing the caked blood off his hands. 

Something ignited in his eyes while you were washing him. You felt him grab your arms, pushing you against the shower wall. You yelped in surprise, dropping the loofah as he raised your hands above your head.

“You touched me without my permission. For that I am going to have to teach you a lesson.”

Beads of water fell down your face, hiding your eyes from his. You weren’t sure what he had planned, but from the tone of his voice and the severity of your transgression, had you fearing for the worse. While holding your arms up with one hand, he felt around on the shelf for something. 

“Close your eyes, and keep them closed til I say so.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your heart racing faster since you couldn’t see what he was doing. Then you felt something being wrapped around your wrist and then the sound of metal hitting together. He did the same thing to the other wrist, effectively cuffing you to the wall. You were splayed out for him in all your nakedness. So, the rings are for tying you up, you quickly thought. Eyes still shut tightly, you began to shake with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. 

Spread your legs, Y/N. I want you to keep them open wide for me. If you move or open those pretty eyes before I tell you to, then I will have to start over.. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded slowly, fear gaining on your nerves. You felt something cold and thin being ran across your wet bare flesh on your thigh to your bottom. The swish of rapid moving air and then a sharp sting across your left buttcheek invaded your senses. You clamped your eyes tighter, biting your lip to keep from whimpering. You knew you broke one of his most important rules for you. You knew you deserved to be reprimanded, but just how far would he take it?

Another drawn out glide of that strap across your inner leg, then the swoosh and smack of it hitting your inner thigh. This time you couldn’t help but cry out, tears threatening to spill over. You remembered that if you moved, he would start over, that thought keeping you glued to your spot. The glide, swish, smack pattern continued across various parts of your exposed body. Every few times, he would run his hand where he had smacked, rubbing soft tender circles over the reddened skin. The kneading of your stinging flesh sent shivers up your spine. You were shocked at your reaction to this maddening pattern. You let your head fall back on the tiled wall, your closed eyes now more relaxed. You felt your own pleasure rising from his punishment. The slick wetness between your legs began to slip down your inner thigh, your legs twitching from need. You inner walls began to clench firmly, searching for something to ease the want building in your core. A moan passed your lips, a whimper here and there when his fingers caressed heated skin. 

When he had decided you had learned your lesson, he dropped his strap to the ground. Hands ran up and down your overly sensitive flesh, digging at your hips as he lifted you off the ground. You legs encircled his waist, your hands still tied to the wall.

“Y/N, you are so fucking wet for me. Did you enjoy my punishment?”

You simply rolled your head forward. He took your chin and lifted your head up.

“Open your eyes baby, I want to watch you as you cum all over my cock. I want you to see me when I cum for you, coating those walls deep inside of you.”

His words made your pussy even wetter, rolling your hips to find the tip of his full and thick cock. Taking hold of your hips once more, he steadied your body. He raised you up just enough to line himself up with your slick coated entrance. With a hard and forceful thrust he drove into you deep. It was hard enough to push your back into the wall, the cold making you tremble against the contrast of hot water spraying over you. He never slowed his pace, ramming into you hard and fast. You felt the electricity growing somewhere low in your stomach, the slight tinge of pain from him driving in hard mixed with the feel of him rubbing small circles on your clit with his thumb, his pace not faltering. You grasped the straps holding you up, knuckles white. 

Throwing his head forward, he bit into your shoulder, teeth digging hard into the flesh and muscle. He moaned with each push of his hips, sending you closer to the edge. Feeling his wicked pace change, you could tell he was getting close to his release. You angled you pelvis, tilting it down for more friction. This movement made him hit your sweet spot every time, your breath hitching.

That glorious feeling of electricity shocked through you body, velvet walls clamping around his wide girth. The pressure engulfing him brought his own orgasm full circle. With a final thrust, he dug into your hips, stilling any movement from you. Warmth filled you, coating your walls completely. Your legs fell from around his waist, barely holding your weight up. 

As he slid out of you, he turned to grab the shower head. Rinsing your body first, he aimed the shower head between your thighs. Your hypersensitive and swollen clit ached from the shooting jetstream. When you were sufficiently cleaned off, he unlatched the cuffs from your wrists. You fell against his frame, legs unable to hold you erect any longer. His arms engulfed you, keeping you securely in place. He kissed your head, whispering soothing words against your hair. 

He finished showering, washing your body from head to toe, muscles twitching with each swipe of the sponge. A sharp intake of air garnered your attention. Fluttering your eyes open, you found him focused on your neck. The image of him holding your neck, the wild blank look in his eyes, flashed in your mind. 

“I-I'm s-sorry about touching your chest.” you managed to say.

“No. You did what you had to. But now you know what can happen when you break the rules. I almost broke another one tonight.”, he shook his head at the thought of seriously harming you.

@aspaceformyself @trapped-inside-my-head @beautifulseoulliar @maxinaptak @seoulsunshineandstories @xjamlessparkx @sugababemyg @kpop-addictedloser  @min-shookga-yoongi @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi@trashkazuya @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570  @kwonnansi

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 5

Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood

A/N: I know this is late but my town experienced a power outage yesterday. I am posting this now and hoping you forgive me.

This chapter is written mostly from Loki's POV. I wanted to show his mind set and motivations for future chapters. I am portraying a very vulnerable Loki, which I understand is slightly out of character. Call it artistic license, but I needed him that way and quickly. 

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Gunfire sounded across the lumber yard. Bullets ripping through the air, dangerously close. Crouching behind a stack of logs, clutching a far to still women tightly to his chest, was Loki.

Earlier

Everything had started rather monotonously. They had disembarked at there designated location and were given three hours to get in, get out, and meet up at the rendezvous. Keeping to the shadows, they moved well as a team, Loki had begrudgingly noticed. He hated to admit any positives in them being together, even to himself. But as they worked their way down to the basement level of the factory, he knew where she was without looking at her. That arc connecting them, even when she was out of sight. She seemed to be the same, moving with silent, graceful steps, with a stealth he had to admire. She didn't cast glances at him either, simply moving as she needed to cover him and have him covering her.

They had reached the basement without complication. It had appeared that no one was there. They hadn't run into any guards so far, which only worked to heighten Loki's suspicions and senses. But the nuclear material was present, along with an unarmed war head.

Loki moved quickly to the computers, as Iloa removed two of her daggers, standing behind him and surveying the perimeter around them. He worked quickly, nimble fingers flying across the keyboard, entering the access codes Banner had given them.

The container disarmed and Loki reached for it but was stopped short. He glanced over at Iloa with a questioning brow, her wrist laying across his forearm, dagger still in hand.

She flicked her eyes around the room, before returning them to him, “It's too easy,” she whispered in warning. “This place was covered with guards when we did surveillance,” she added.

He glanced around the room as well, it did seem easy. “I agree, but the material is here. We have to take it,” he whispered back.

She locked eyes with him for another second, before exhaling loudly and nodding. Lifting her arm away from his, “Wait,” she grabbed a metal suit case with a strap, off one of the tables and a pair of medical gloves from another. “Can't be to careful.”

He took the proffered items, slipping the gloves on and retrieving the container carefully. He placed it gently inside the padded case, removing the gloves and tossing them aside. Closing the case, he grabbed the strap slipping it over his head and arm. “Shall we?” He asked, lifting an arm to allow her to go first.

It was his first mistake.

She reached the bottom of the stairs before him. They were tucked at the back of the room, behind a wall. She stopped lifting her hands in surrender and backed away from the bottom step slowly. Loki halted as well, he couldn't see the threat but he understood the danger. She glanced out of the side of her eye at him in warning. He knew she was going to use her voice. Summoning his seiðr, his eyes flashing lime green, he nodded at her.

She began to hum low in her throat, a tune Loki hadn't heard before. He heard rather than saw when the guard went down, landing with a loud clatter and thud on the stairs. He began to move toward her again, dropping his seiðr.

His second mistake.

Iloa turned to Loki and smiled. And he didn't bother stopping the smile that worked its way onto his own lips.

The smile turned to anguish, when the shot rang out. Hitting her leg, she crumbled to the floor. He sprinted to her side. She screamed at the shooter, as Loki reached her and drug her away from the alcove. He thanked the Gods that her song hadn't affected him.

He was panicking, as he surveyed the injury. His heart double timing in his chest. She waved him off, “It's just a graze,” she said through her teeth, “Help me up.”

He did as she instructed, helping her back on her feet carefully. “Are you sure you should be standing?”

She put pressure on her leg and winced but stood with ease. “It's fine, I can heal it.” She began the tune he had heard before, “I told you it was too easy. We need to find another way out of here.”

He nodded, “Agreed, there are another set of stairs on the other side.” He pointed across the room and they took off across the space.

He stayed in front of her then, not letting her take point. They darted up the stairs, reaching a door at the top. Panting they both listened intently, him with his seiðr. Lime green eyes flashing, he nodded at her. Carefully he swung the door open, casting his magic out in an attempt to detect anyone coming there way. But he hadn't honed this part of his magic.

They rounded a corner and ten men where standing there waiting. They hadn't been moving so Loki's ability hadn't picked them up. Iloa started her hum but the men started firing before they could get the full affect.

Loki threw up a shield with his seiðr, as Iloa started taking the men down with her daggers. She was the picture of elegance, as she flung the Kunai through the air disarming the group. Her hair spinning around her body like a cape, she was so beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

When the final gun was on the ground, the men charged. “Hand-to-hand?” Iloa laughed smiling up at Loki. “Bring it,” she shouted at the advancing group.

Loki dropped the shield, summoning his own daggers. They went trough the group, like two spinning whirlwinds. Slashing, punching, kicking, they worked back to back to incapacitate the guards.

They stood victorious, grinning at each other. She quickly sang the Kunai back to her belt. “Let's go,” Loki nodded at her. He was having far to much fun, fighting at this woman's side. He had started to forget his fears, reaching out to grab her hand as they ran down the halls to escape. She giggled as she ran beside him.

Third mistake.

At every corner and staircase on there way out was a new group of guards. They worked together, laughing and revolving through the men with an intense violent energy.

Loki ended up removing his helmet to use as a weapon, leaving it impaled in a mans arm as he screamed to be released. While in the next hall, Iloa used Loki as a spring board, jumping off his bent legs and spiraling through the group. Kunai flying, until she landed behind them in a crouch, completely unscathed. He stood up, looking at her at the other end of the hall. He smiled, absentmindedly punching a charging guard in the face. His eyes still locked on hers, “You're pretty good at this.”

She giggled, as he made his way down the hall to join her, “You have no idea,” she teased, grabbing his hand and darting toward the exit again.

They made it outside to the lumber yard. They were so close to being free of this place.

He was so distracted by how good they were together, he didn't realize they were in danger again until the shooting began. Loki threw up his shield quickly. But not quick enough.

Fourth mistake.

Her hand slipped from his. Iloa went down, coughing up blood and this time she didn't get back up. His shield faltered, a bullet tearing into his shoulder. He roared with rage, sending daggers flying at the shooters. He took several of them out but not all.

He had to get Iloa out of there. Somewhere safe so he could heal her. Tucking the case around his body, he bent to retrieve her now deathly still frame from the ground. His shield wavering inconsistently at his back. Bullets ripped into his arms and legs. To hell with himself, he had to save her.

One bullet had hit her in the stomach, another just below her left shoulder. Far to close to her heart for Loki's comfort. Blood pored down the front of her leathers and ran down her chin, mixing with his own as he pulled her close to his chest.

He prayed silently to the Gods, as he sprinted behind a nearby stack of logs. Please. Please don't let her die. He begged.

Crouching behind the stack he pulled her closer, brushing her crimson hair away from her face. Her normally rosy cheeks, growing far to pale, “Don't leave me. Not now. Not yet,” he begged her now. But as she laid lifeless in his arms, he was certain she would not return. He summoned all the magic he possessed laying his hands over her wounds. He willed it to heal, to close the tear, mend flesh and torn muscle, to bring back what had been taken from him.

Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, she did not wake. The skin beneath his palms had knit back together but still she did not rise, eyes remaining closed, chest absent of the breath of life. He wasn't strong enough to bring her back. Laying her carefully on the ground at his feet, he rose slowly. Lifting the case over his head, he settled it carefully next to her body.

Rage coursed through his veins and mind, walking out past his shelter. Bullets again began flying but he didn't bother with the shield this time. As the bullets tore at his limbs, he released his power in a deafening roar. Daggers impaling the guards, twenty times over, not caring that he was taking lives.

When the last of the guards lay dead, he crumpled to his knees. Burying his face in his hands. He yelled. A deep guttural sound, full of anguish. His bloody and torn body, shook violently as he sobbed uncontrollably, letting himself feel the pain. What did it matter now, she was gone anyway.

The calming tune he had heard in the training room less than 24 hours ago, filed his ears and numbed his senses. He lifted his head, eyes closed, absorbing the tune though he knew it could only be in his mind. If this was her ghost he would happily let her haunt him for the rest of his days.

Tiny arms circled his shoulders from behind, bringing the electricity and warmth that had become essential for him to survive. He couldn't breath past the lump forming in his throat. The tune slowly transformed into the healing one and he felt his body begin to mend itself. But the tune did nothing to fix his heart. He inhaled unsteadily, not trusting his mind he slowly opened his eyes. She was smiling sweetly at him, as she continued her hum eyes full of worry.

He grasped her arm and hiccupped on an exhale, his fingers meeting flesh not air. Pulling her quickly but carefully around his body, he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame her. His hands began roaming across her back, up over her shoulders, down her arms, before his brain allowed him to believe the feeling of her mended flesh and warmth beneath his palms. Finally embracing her and pulling her tightly against his chest, he could feel himself began to breathe again. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deep greedy gulps of her ocean scent. “I thought you were dead,” he breathed against her neck.

She held his head, running her hand soothingly over his hair, “I am alright. I was fine.”

His hands shot to her shoulders, jerking her away from him, “You were not fine,” he growled, “You were dead,” his voice broke and cracked around the sentence.

She was still smiling though it turned sad at his words, “I was fine. I promise, I am a lot stronger than you think.”

Her way of speaking cryptically, did nothing but fan the flames of his anger. “YOU WERE DEAD!” He screamed at her, standing abruptly causing her to hit the ground. “I don't know how you aren't dead,” he paced back and forth unable to quiet his mind. Unfortunately, all it kept coughing up was how foolish and vulnerable he must appear right now. He couldn't appear that way to anyone and he scrubbed violently at his face with his hands. Glaring back down at her, he continued his tirade, “You are a mortal, you were gone. How are you alive?”

Iloa stood slowly, a bit unsteady. Loki fought the urge to rush to her side. He wanted answers, he needed answers. It would do him no good to give into the urge to be her protector right now. He would get nothing out of her, if he touched her again. At the moment, they weren't in danger. He had to resist.

She sighed heavily, “I am not a mortal, Loki.”

He scoffed at her, “What else could you be?” He snarled.

Iloa snarled right back, “You know what Loki. I am not going to answer that. You don't listen anyway, why should I spill my entire life story to you? You can't fucking hear me! And even if you could you haven't earned a damn thing!”

She marched past him, grabbing her side as she breathed raggedly. He was right on her tail, seething. Rounding the stack of logs, she grabbed up the case slinging it over her shoulder. She winced at the action but marched on ignoring him completely.

He let her walk in front of him, until she started weaving slightly. They had moved far enough away from the facility now, that he dared calling out to her. “Wait,” he called, trying to catch up to up. But again she just ignored him. He grumbled curses under his breath before attempting again, “Give me the case, before you end up hurt again,” he said curtly. He was concerned she would pass out if she kept this up. He had already been through one death scare. He couldn't survive another one, honestly he wasn't surviving this one.

She glared over her shoulder at him, “No,” she growled and stuck her tongue out at him. Turning back around, she continued to march off, stumbling and wrapping her free arm around her middle.

That had him stopping short, “You impertinent, female! Here I am trying to be a chivalrous gentleman,” he quipped in a self-righteous tone, “And you can't stop yourself from being a foolish child.”

“I have a fucking name, Loki,” she yelled, spinning on her heels and wobbling dangerously. She panted heavily glaring at him, before the case slid off her shoulder to the ground and her knees buckled.

Sliding to her side on his knees, he caught her before she hit the ground. “Iloa,” he breathed, voice cracking and breaking around her name. Foolish and vulnerable. Foolish and vulnerable. His mind berated him and this time all he could think was that that damned voice needed to 'fuck off'.

“I'm fine. I'm just tired,” she was still breathing laboriously, waving a dismissive hand at him weakly.

Loki's heart ended up in his throat. He watched her eyes flutter, could see her pulse in her throat beating erratically. She was still far to pale.

“You are far from fine, Iloa. Please stop saying that,” he stroked her hair gently, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“We have been here too long,” she tried to sit up in his arms, “We have to get to the rendezvous.”

He gently held her down, “We have time, we are close,” he urged. “Please, stop being so stubborn and give yourself a moment.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, “Just one.”

She sighed heavily, tilting her head in a slight nod. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and she fought to keep her eyes open. “Close your eyes,” he begged, “Rest for now.”

She shook her head, “I can rest,” deep inhale, “On the jet.”

“Please,” he begged, he couldn't keep the pain from lacing that one word. A tear escaping his eye, he scrubbed at his cheek before it went any further. He couldn't handle his mind reprimanding him again.

“Fine,” she huffed, he was fairly certain it wasn't just because she was angry with him. “You can,” inhale, “Put me,” inhale, “Down now.” She finally managed to get out. Loki shook his head and stubbornly she continued, “I know,” inhale, “You don't,” inhale, “Want to be,” inhale, “Holding me,” inhale, “Right now.”

There was a soul wrenching sadness in her voice that had Loki confessing, “There is nowhere in the entire cosmos I would rather be.” He managed a small smile but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. There was to much raw emotional pain, that he didn't know how to cope with, for a smile to be genuine right now.

She huffed again, placing her hand on his cheek. She smiled weakly but hers was genuine and trapped his breath in his lungs. She ran a thumb slowly across his cheek bone, he closed his eyes pressing softly into her hand, “Liar,” she teased.

He chuckled, despite the pain in his heart. Somehow knowing that she wasn't calling his words a lie but his smile, “That's my job,” he smoothed her hair again. “Rest,” and she nodded at him, her hand falling from his face, she closed her eyes.

He held her as she slept, her breathing evening out and slowing the panicky beat of his heart. Cradling her, he scanned the area. If he had calculated it correctly, they were only a few miles from the rendezvous. Technically, they weren't completely out of danger either. “I am going to protect you. All I want is for you to be safe,” he whispered, and pressed his lips tentatively to her forehead.

FOOLISH AND VULNERABLE. FOOLISH AND VULNERABLE. His mind prattled relentlessly. “Fuck off!” He growled low in his throat, and the inner chanting ceased, at least for the moment.

He reached for the case throwing the strap over his head and arm, careful not to jostle the sleeping woman in his lap. Once he had it situated, the case hanging behind his back, he turned back to Iloa. Wrapping an arm behind her neck, the other under her knees, he rose carefully to his feet. He would get her there safely. He swore to the Gods no more harm would befall her.

But when they got there, he would walk away. He must. The mistakes he had been counting, were the moments his guard had fallen exposing his feelings for her. And after almost losing her he knew he couldn't want her, need her, have her. He couldn't lose control. She deserved far more than he could ever give.

As they reached the jet, she stirred. Looking up at him, with that sapphire gaze, he reveled in the color, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see them this close. The color had finally returned to her cheeks and though sweaty, bloody, and dirt covered, she looked much better than when she had collapsed.

Natasha and Tony jumped off the jet, sprinting toward them, interrupting his thoughts. “Teen. Teeny, are you ok?” Tony's voice registered controlled panic and Loki had to admire him for it.

“Yea, Dad,” she rolled her eyes playfully, her voice much clearer than before. “Just needed a nap.” Tony took a deep breath and nodded as though he understood the response. Loki thought that maybe he did, even if it only confused him further.

She looked up at Loki again but he couldn't bring his eyes down to her again. “You can put me down now,” she said for the second time that day, “For real this time,” she added.

He did as she instructed, keeping a hand on her back to make sure she could stand on her own. But as soon as her feet were on the ground, Natasha grabbed her up in a back breaking hug. Loki winced right along with her.

Using every bit of his willpower, he turned away from her to Stark. Removing the case from his person he took it in both hands and pushed it forcefully into Tony's awaiting arms. “This is for you,” he said before dropping his hands. “And if you expect me to do these missions again.” He paused, inhaling deeply to stop the tremble that threatened his voice. He knew his next words would be the end, so he added a snarl, “Pair me with someone else. I will not work with her again.”

He didn't let Tony answer, brushing past him and his dumb struck expression. He made his way to the jet and climbed in, surreptitiously glancing back, seeing her standing there clingy to Natasha and Tony. He knew it had worked. Settling himself next to Thor, purposely placing himself as far away from her seat as possible. He chewed on his lips as the three boarded the jet. When it took off heading for the tower, he could feel her crying. His heart was breaking but he would not, could not admit it. This was for the best, she just didn't know it yet. Seemed like he might need a little convincing as well.

[loving-barnes]

SHELTER – STEVE ROGERS

(A/N): This one (which still can be found on my wattpad) was originally written for Seb but since I’ve realised that I am not comfortable writing fanfiction with actors, I have rewritten this and made it into a Steve Rogers one-shot. So... enjoy!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!reader

Summary: The whole Avengers team goes to Met Gala and Steve and Y/N have their moment.

Warning: fluff

Words: 3100+

FULL MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST

SHELTER – STEVE ROGERS

When Tony announced that the team would be attending the famous Met Gala, (Y/N) got very excited and couldn’t wait for the big day. It was because this was her first Met Gala. Ever since she became a part of the Avengers family, she attended parties and festivals with the team – or mostly with Tony because for a moment she could feel like a star. Not that she was a diva like Tony, no. She just wanted to live her life fully and enjoy every moment. This time, the whole team, and not only Tony, was going to the Gala too. Y/N forced them a little – mostly the male part of their group.

“(Y/N) are you ready?” Natasha shouted from the living room. The two of them and Wanda were settled in a hotel room, preparing for the night. There was a hairdresser, a makeup artist and also a stylist who brought all the dresses that were paid by Tony. “Get out of the bathroom! We have to leave in fifteen minutes and I really need to use the bathroom! And no, I’m not kidding,” she put on very expensive and massive silver earrings perfectly fitting with her red and silver dress.

The theme for this year’s Met Gala was Steampunk and it was up to the stars if they wanted to put on clothing that represents the theme or not. Natasha wasn’t that kind of a woman. She preferred a fancy dress and she didn’t even have the time to create something with her stylists. “Hurry up, (Y/N),” Wanda sighed, getting impatient. “I really want to see you! You said you are going to wear an outfit perfectly fitting for this Gala. Move your ass. I’m getting impatient and excited at the same time.”

The door to the bathroom finally opened and the young woman came out, fully prepared for the night. She had a huge shy smile on her face. When Natasha and Wanda saw her, they were stunned. (Y/N) was wearing a black corset that looked like a west with a heart-shaped neckline and it had a black flourish pattern with leather edging. It had two leather belts with a small leather pocket that had a metal opening. The corset also had two other leather straps, going from the right breast to the left hip. The last touch was the leather collar serving as a necklace. Eyes falling down, they noticed a massive skirt that had a short front and a very long back. Y/N combined a modern style with steampunk and it was amazing. The material was mostly leather with satin sewed from the inside. It wouldn’t be complete without custom-made mid-thigh high boots of the same colour as the dress was. For accessories, she chose typical steampunk glasses on the top of her head. (Y/N) with the hairdresser’s permission had chosen a very high ponytail for the occasion. They even had to put hair extensions so her hair was twice longer than it actually was. On each side, she had a custom-made steampunk gun.

“Is it too much?” she asked carefully when the people were quiet.

“You are going to steal the Gala,” Wanda smiled at her, stepping closer and gently touching the skirt and corset. “Damn, this looks amazing. But hey, let’s be honest, this is you-you love dressing up for Halloween and masquerade.”

“Well, Steve is going to be speechless,” Natasha smirked at (Y/N), eyes never leaving hers.

“What do you mean?” she asked, shiver coming down her spine. She and Steve were always good friends, but since last mission, they started to spend a lot of time together and thus the feelings changed. She had a massive crush on him. However, she was afraid of making a move – hell, she was a little scared of a relationship. Last time she was in a serious one and it ended with a snap of fingers. Her ex-broke her heart. He found another one, slightly younger and beautiful.

Wanda nudged her shoulder. “You really don’t see it? (Y/N), that man is crazy about you!”

She breathed. “Okay, yes, I admit, I might have noticed something,” and she bit her lower lip. “It’s just… I don’t know. He’s my friend and I don’t want to screw it up.”

The red-haired woman rolled her eyes. “It’s been a year and you are still alone. You need someone and he’s the perfect one! The way he looks at you, even your ex never looked at you like that. When we were on a mission in Amsterdam, you two were permanently together. You two have this amazing chemistry. Okay, yes, you were in a relationship, which was slowly destroying you from inside – let’s be honest – and you and Steve were and still are perfect together – friends or maybe something more.” Natasha grabbed her hands and a smile stayed on her face. “Why don’t you talk tonight?”

“I should be sitting next to him but I’ll give my place to you and I’ll be sitting next to Bucky or Sam,” Wanda offered her. “Deal?”

(Y/N) nodded, her cheeks turned pink and she quickly bit her index finger. “Now, go to the bathroom so we can leave. There are hundreds of photographers waiting there and thousands of people to meet. Fuck, I’m really nervous now.”

…

There she was, looking from behind a window at the crowd of people in fancy dresses and suits. Natasha went with Wanda in a different car because Tony arranged it like that. The whole team would meet on the red carpet or at their table. She took a last deep breath and the door opened for her. An older man helped her get out of the car by setting his arm.

“Thank you,” she said politely, smiling at him. And then it all started.

(Y/N), over here!  No, come here!   Miss (Y/L/N) can you come here for a picture?!

It was weird – going up the stairs, people shouting her name when she was alone. There was no one to hold her hand and support her. A sincere smile appeared on her face and she went right up the stairs where the organizers showed her to go. The flashes were unpleasant but it was only for a couple of minutes. They needed to see her in the dress. They were craving for her, to take a photo from every side. Another deep breath and… her eyes found them – the perfect couple. Her ex and his new girlfriend were standing a few meters from (Y/N), taking pictures and occasionally kissing. How was it even possible they would be attending a thing like this? Her stomach turned. They were making her sick.

“(Y/N), pose for us!” someone shouted out loud, making her wince a little. There was no time for running away. The only solution she quickly made was to act cool and enjoy the red carpet. She put her hand on a hip and smiled for the photographers, trying to ignore the happy couple. She was sure they were both looking at her, if not talking about the girl. The woman changed a pose and made a face like a rock star.

It was time to move to the main stage where the biggest hunger for photos was. Trying to act cool, she slowly went up, step by step, watching her feet. It would be very embarrassing if had fallen on the red carpet right in front of the “happy couple” and the photographers.

“(Y/N)!” a familiar voice screamed her name. The (h/c)-haired girl turned around and saw the man who caused her butterflies in the stomach. Steve was wearing a typical black tux with a black tie. He was quickly approaching to her, spreading his arms for a warm hug. “Hi!” he smiled like an angel and pulled her into his warm embrace. When he pulled away, his eyes were scanning her from head to toes. “God, you look absolutely stunning!”

“Thank you very much, charming,” you made a grimace. “You look cute too. As usual. When was the last time we saw each other – during breakfast?” she laughed.

“Please, pose for us!” a shout interrupted their short conversation. With that, Steve put the feminine body closer to his and they gave them what they wanted. Luckily, they both loved being silly-the Captain had his funny side too- and they started to make faces. He couldn’t take this whole thing seriously and she loved having fun like this. All celebrities were serious, even Tony and Natasha, trying to look innocent, sweet and sexy at the same time. Steve and (Y/N) weren’t like the rest of the people. They only wanted to have a great time.

“I have to go,” he suddenly whispered into her ear and gently stroked her back. “I’ll see you inside.”

…

“I’m so glad the party is finally starting. All those speeches and everything, it was so annoying,” said Sam very loudly, who was sitting right opposite (Y/N). His hands were on the table and he was playing with his wine glass. “Who wants to dance with me, ladies?” he looked at Wanda, Natasha and later and (Y/N). Her eyes were fixed on her white napkin and she had a little smile on her face. The girl was enjoying this night. It wasn’t that horrible. She ignored her ex and his new girl and her mind was focused on her friends and Steve who made her laugh every five minutes. She was sitting next to Bucky and they had a great time. “Come on girls! There are great songs and I want to dance! It’s party time,” he was like a child.

“I hate this song,” Wanda sighed and took the wine glass between her fingers. “Can we wait for another five minutes? Then it will be my honour to dance with you, Wilson. You have the greatest moves.”

(Y/N)’s (e/c) eyes looked from side to side. She saw Tony whispering something into Pepper’s ear and she was smiling. They were gorgeous together. This was the perfect, happy couple. It was pure and even she could feel the love. It only made her smile more.

“Hey, what’s that thing on your face?” Steve leaned closer to her, making the girl wince a little. Her eyes found his. “Why are you smiling?” he asked again, also smiling. “Tell me.”

“It’s just,” she breathed, leaned closer to him and started to talk to his ear. The music was loud and they were playing crazy party songs. It all made the communication harder. “When I see Tony and Pepper, I just have to smile. Just look at them – they are happy and adorable. If there was a competition for the cutest couple in the world, they would win. And,” her voice changed from very positive to more sad. “I just hope that one day, I’ll have what they have.”

Cap put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently caressed it. “You will,” he replied. “One day, you’ll be as happy as they are.”

When they looked into each other’s eyes, the world stopped spinning for a while. It was just them sharing a moment together. Her heart was beating fast, not slowing down. Once again, those butterflies were back in her stomach, tickling her a little. Yes, she was definitely in love with this man and he probably didn’t even know it. The girls were right. She should do something about it.

“Hey, birds!” Sam interrupted their moment. “It’s dance time! Come on!”

“Do you want a dance-off?” (Y/N) kinked a brow and smirked.

“You think you are better than me?” the man made a grimace.  Steve was even goofier than she thought. “Let’s go. I want to see your moves, (Y/L/N).”

A moment later, the Avengers family was on the dance floor, showing their best dance moves. The music changed and rock music was on. They created a circle and each of them went inside for a few seconds. The people who made the circle swayed from side to side, clapping their hands and the person inside did their best to impress everyone. Sam danced like his life depended on it. Some of the moves were very sensual and the other one was funny. When he ended, he grabbed (Y/N)’s hand and dragged her inside the circle. “Your turn!”

The woman playfully rolled her (e/c) eyes and started to move. Luckily, the genre didn’t change and she could dance to her favourite song Raise Hell. Her hands were in the air, hips moving from side to side and occasionally jumping to face a different person. When she turned to Stebe, he went closer to her and did exactly the same move as she did. It was funny but pretty much intimate. Together, they were singing the lyrics – well, screaming would be the proper word. The rest of the friends were laughing at them.

The song ended and the people started clapping, whistling and screaming from excitement. So did (Y/N) and Steve. Even laughter escaped their throats. Before they could notice, the rest of the team was gone and they were standing in the middle of the crowd alone, when (Y/N)’s favourite song started to play. The soft guitar tune started to play and she had to smile.

“Care for a dance?” Steve asked her when she slowly turned to him. And she accepted. One hand appeared on her waist while the other took hers and he pulled her closer to him. Her other hand rested on his chest. The people around them were too slow-dancing with a partner. The two of them were making leisure moves, enjoying each other’s company. It was very nice and very romantic.

They were quiet for a couple of seconds before he started to speak again. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he said to her ear, his voice being confident and serious. (Y/N) couldn’t reply, because he continued. “Have I told you how amazing you are?” The sides of their heads were touching. “Have I told you how you make me feel when I’m with you?” The blond man was still whispering to her ear, even when some of the people noticed how they were dancing. “I wish this moment would never end,” he dryly gulped.

(Y/N)’s eyes were closed the whole time while he was talking to her. Maybe she looked sad from the outside, but inside, her soul was jumping from happiness. He was always sweet, caring and this was something her heart was dreaming for the past few months. “I too wish it,” she replied calmly, deeply inhaling his perfume. “I wish this night would never end.”

They gently pulled their heads away, but not very far. Their eyes met before they fell to her lips. Hers did the same. The girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Steve leaned closer, his lips softly brushing against hers. As if he was scared to kiss her. When he was sure she wouldn’t run away, their lips finally connected in a very gentle and romantic first kiss. It was maybe a second or two but felt like an eternity and it meant a lot to them. When they pulled away, their foreheads were leaning against each other, their eyes still closed. The couple was breathing like one body, enjoying the moment and the song.

Love was in the air, that was for sure and even their friends saw it. Looking at the new couple from their table was all they needed. They belonged together. Two lost souls finally found each other. Natasha was smiling like a little girl and Wanda high-fived with Bucky and Sam.

The song was slowly getting to its end. Steve pulled her even closer to him. He needed to feel the warm body on hers, to make sure this wasn’t only a dream. Together, they ignored the whole world, not even caring if someone took a picture of them or not. This was their moment of love and it was just perfect. They didn’t need any words for describing all those feelings. This said everything with a kiss. When the song finished, Steve sighed and (Y/N) didn’t want to leave his embrace. It was warm and loving. He gave her the shelter she needed.

His fingers entwined with hers and together they went back to their table. The music has once again changed and the people started to wildly dance again. Steve helped the woman with her seat and then he pushed his chair closer to hers. When they were sitting at the table, they saw Wanda’s face. The brunette was looking at them with big puppy eyes. “You two are just adorable.”

(Y/N) blushed once again and licked her lips. Bucky approached them unexpectedly, tapping Captain’s shoulder. “Hey man, would you like to go to the bar with us?”

“No thanks, man. I believe Wanda would like a drink,” he gave the girl a look saying, please leave us alone.

“Oh, right, I would love a drink. I need a drink.  And I need more wine,” she mumbled and quickly stood up, leaving with Barnes. The table was almost empty, leaving the two of them alone.

His manly hand found her tiny one and their fingers once again entwined. The girl put her head on his shoulder and he put his head on top of hers. This was all they needed – feel the presence of the other. His thumb was making circles on the top of her hand. This couldn’t be more romantic. This was a pure perfection. “Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked after a while.

“You can stay any time as long as you want, forever if you like,” he replied, kissing her forehead. His two fingers appeared under her chin and lifted her head up. Now, she was looking into his gorgeous blue eyes, even when the light was dimmed and she couldn’t see his face perfectly. “Maybe it’s too early, but I have to say it… I love you.”

(Y/N)’s lips crooked into a shy smile. Her heart skipped a beat. “I love you too.” And it was true. She did love him. They shared another soft kiss filled with love.

The night was slowly ending and the people were leaving the Gala. The new couple enjoyed the time with the rest of the friends, laughing and drinking more wine. Girls congratulated (Y/N) on her new relationship that started on the dance floor and wished them well. When no one was watching and they were all occupied by different people, Steve took his new girlfriend by hand and inconspicuously took her away from the Gala. He wanted to spend some time with her alone, back in his room.  

[moonshotsandstarsocks]

I Can Make You a Man

When you’re thirsty for revenge, but also thirsty for that D

A story inspired by @mozg-art and their wonderful Rocky Horror Picture Show Roadrat comic! You can see it here 

Small warning, there are some descriptions of blood and gore in this, so just be mindful if that’s not your thing. And as always, let me know what you think!

The good doctor wasn’t used to entertaining guests. Engrossed day in and day out in his work there was hardly such a time for the luxury of company, so most usually he simply chattered to his robots whenever the urge for conversation struck him.

Fixing loose wiring, adding on new weaponry, Junkenstein would talk at his precious machines as if they had a will of their own and could understand him. A one sided banter that would last for hours and only ended when the doctor got pulled away to work on something else.

Rarely the imagined conversations took a turn for the worst. Days where Junkenstein would return from the village and the voices he often imagined would turn cruel and mocking, echoing the disgusted sentiment the king shared. Ceaseless, they would rattle around in his brain and mix together into a deafening static until Junkenstein felt like his brilliant brain would melt away into nothing.

Maddened by it all he knew that there was only one way to get them to stop: by throwing them carelessly into a pile out in his courtyard and letting his rip-tire loose on the whole lot of them. The Zomnics were in need of upgrades anyway, scrapping them was helping him skip the annoying intricacies of adding on new patches. And whatever parts of his mood that wasn’t improved by the raining robotic body parts was cheered up by the bottles of chemicals he would toss into the fires to create different colors. The green flames brought on by the boric acid were his favorite.

So maybe Dr. Junkenstein wasn’t used to guests. Maybe. But it was hardly a bad thing because it brought him to his greatest project yet: the creation of life. It was all very under lock and key, the last thing the doctor needed was another angry hoard of villagers at his castle doors once again. Their screams of fear grew stale after the first two or three times he sicked his Zomnics at them.

That’s why, on a cloudy night with only the full moon to illuminate the land below, Doctor Junkenstein was surprised to see two uninvited guests in his lab. Two guests not from anywhere on Earth. They were ethereal, but not in any way that angels were.

The witch had a commanding presence both in the way she held herself and the sheer aura emanating off of her. A beautiful face couldn’t hide the evil in her eyes no matter how blue they could be. The staff gripped tight in her hand was radiating a pulsing yellow light at the top, and with the tome strapped to her hip it made Junkrat’s fingers itch to take them both and learn her secrets. Surely he could put them to better use than her.

But perhaps he wasn’t the first to think so, because the thing next to her could only be described as some type of underworld bodyguard. Leather on top of leather with a popped collar, his orange and black scheme matched the witch’s and covered him head to toe. The only exception was his head

The witch had a subtle malice to her, but her bodyguard was the exact opposite. Residing above his shoulders (with no connection by a neck) was a round pumpkin with a cruel face jaggedly cut out to replace its head. The markings stretched and shrunk with the same elasticity of skin, and when his head moved it revealed nothing but the same ominous yellow light glowing from within his body.

Oh, they were just practically begging the doctor to cut them open and see what they’re made of. However, when they explained themselves and their desire to see his creation, Junkenstein was ecstatic and quickly forgot his plans of dissection.

“Well he’s not a creation per say.” Junkenstein said, making a noncommittal, back and forth gesture with his hand. “Creation implies makin’ somethin’ from nothin’. It’s a creation in the sense that I had to draw up the schematics, write the equations for the right amount of transfusions, shit like that. But everythin’ else is organic and recycled from fresh graves, so it’s less of an artistic creation and more a scientific invention. Though I would like to say my design is nothin’ short of artistic gen-”

“You’re getting off topic, doctor.” The witch’s voice dripped with annoyance, betraying the impassive expression she had on her face. The pumpkin, however, was more expressive than she was, openly scowling at Junkenstein.

The two supernatural entities watched Dr. Junkenstein pace about his lab, his back now turned to them as he walked over to a large slab with a mass on top obscured by a large blanket. In his hurry to get there the doctor’s uneven gait became over exaggerated and made him look like he was bobbing up and down while walking on a flat surface.

Undeterred, the doctor laughed before replying to the witch. “Of course, of course. Trust me, I’m jus’ as excited to get to the main event. So,” He rounded the table, facing the witch and her servant. “Shall I show you my latest obsession?”

Before either could answer the doctor took hold of the blanket and with a flourish it flew off the table to reveal the body underneath.

Had the witch been mortal, it might have taken her breath away.

Laying on the table was not any man, but a monstrosity. Death had stained the skin a sickly green, different areas being different shades because the creature was so large in mass that it needed the skin of multiple bodies simply to cover it all. Gaps between the stitches To add to the inhuman nature of the thing, it appeared that the doctor had taken the liberty of adding a mask made of pigskin complete with a snout to obscure the monster’s face.

Slowly, the witch approached it to get a closer look. Her eyes were drawn first to the conducting rods sticking out in various places on the creature’s body. The shoulders, feet, even the large screws that had been drilled into its jawbone were a testament to the doctor’s initial dabbling in electric shocks to try and reanimate the bastardized corpse. The Witch of the Wilds had laughed at his primitive efforts from afar, but now up close she could fully appreciate how far the doctor had come.

Being so close also allowed her to view some of the... aesthetic choices the doctor made with his design. The clothes were custom made, they had to be, and while the stitching was good it was more on the gothic side with the leather jacket and spikes. That wasn’t even mentioning the ‘D3AD’ belt buckle or the ‘TERROR’ tattooed poorly across the monster’s large gut. It seemed that her servant took notice of it as well, his clawed finger gently scraping along the word.

Though his eyes were only empty sockets of a carved pumpkin, the way the light shifted within it indicated that he was looking at Junkenstein.  “A little tacky, don’t you think?” He asked.

With a loud gasp, Junkenstein threw himself on top of his creation defensively, swatting her servant’s hand away. “”Fuck off! I didn’t make him for you!”

“Then what did you make it for, doctor?” The Witch of the Wilds asked, stifling a giggle over the petty squabble between the two.

“Well,” Junkenstein stood up, letting his hands drag slowly along the creature’s stomach as he did so. “He’ll have a great many purposes I assure you. Now of course there’s the more obvious.”

Eyes gleaming behind his goggles, Junkenstein was looking down yet a thousand miles away as his vision came to him. He could picture it all as clearly as he could the very first time he put his plans into motion for making his monster. “What he might lack in brains, he will more than make up for in brawn. An’ he’s gonna use all that brawn to go straight down to the village an’ slaughter everythin’ in his wake ‘til he’s right at the doors of the castle. Oh they’ll all scream, probably beg like the fuckin’ cowards they’ve always been. But he won’t listen, an’ the last moments of their insignificant lives will be used to finally appreciate my genius!”

The lab fell away, the dark stone and lights melting and morphing into the streets of the town. Dr. Junkenstein could see through the eyes of his monster as it tore its way through the crowds. Strong hands extending outward from a behemoth body, strong enough to lift the townsfolk by their heads with just one hand and able to crack their skulls open like eggs just as easy. Blood and entrails painting the cobblestone streets red. The people could try and fight back, but without the help of the Zomnics they took for granted they stood no chance.

Of course there would be weaklings within them, the lambs among the sheep, who would try to run or hide. A twisted mind ever moving, the doctor tweaked his imagination to accommodate the problem. Where rippling muscles could not reach, a gun could. It would need to be large for his monster, something to slow down its prey for the eventual slaughter. Not enough to outright kill, but something to make them suffer. To bleed and cripple, prolonging the inevitable. Or perhaps he could fashion something simpler for his dimwitted creation; something to draw them in close. Maybe he could make both.

God, he was practically salivating at the imagined carnage. For a moment his words trailed off at his tongue, savoring their taste rather than expunging them from his mind. They tasted like copper, the bitterness of ale, and the decadent sweetness of revenge. Junkenstein licked his lips as he finally continued. “An’ then when the lord comes out from hidin’ he’ll get to admire my monster’s good work jus’ long enough before his head gets ripped off an’ I get to drop a big one right down his throat.”

Junkenstein’s entire body shook with his manic laughter, throwing his head back in unrestrained glee. In his lab, the laughter bounced off the cold stone walls until his cackle reverberated enough to ring in his ears.

The two beings shared looks with one another. Doctor Junkenstein’s bloodlust was something to admire, certainly outside the normal threshold of most mortals. It was what had drawn them to him in the first place; extreme intellect mixed with a chaotic and unstable personality. Unpredictable on his own, but with the right tools easily manipulated.

The Witch of the Wilds had been watching mankind for centuries, reveling in their tiny squabbles and even adding to the chaos when she saw fit, but her frivolous tendencies were backed with restraint that came from a woman destined to watch the world slowly pass by until time itself disintegrated to ash at her feet. She was smart, careful, and when it was time to give away her gifts she didn’t like to leave any uncertainty or loose ends.

Arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow the witch asked, “What are you planning to do once it’s all over? Once you’ve had your destruction.”

Idle hands now found themselves on the monster’s chest, gloved fingers brushing through the course hair that laid on top of it. Upon hearing the witch’s question Junkenstein’s face nearly split in half with a large grin.

“Well, strength in itself is all find an’ dandy. Keeps ya from gettin’ the sand kicked in your face. But there’s something about a deltoid, and a bicep.” Junkenstein fell prone against his creation again, eyes and hands following along to the according muscle as he spoke. They paused on its body as his eyes tilted down.

“A uh,” He paused himself to giggle, unable to bite back the grin even as his crooked teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “And a tricep. It just makes me wanna shake!” He wiggled his body to the point of indecency, but the creature under him barely shifted. “Makes me wanna laugh right at the lord’s ass-hair covered face!”

“That’s… fine.” The witch replied slowly, unable to think of the right words as she caught on to the doctor’s intentions. Her servant had as well, his posture rigid next to her and his arms crossed tight over his chest. He was wise to stay silent.

Raising her hand aloft to the sky, the witch rose from the ground. Her wings ignited and expanded out, holding her effortlessly in place as she called upon her magic in her native tongue, a language lost to time and incomprehensible to those who didn’t already know it. Light enveloped her until it focused itself into a beacon on her hand, manifesting a crystal.

Jaw going slack, Junkenstein slipped off of his monster to witness the magic before him. It had an otherwordly pull on him, beckoning him closer. The light didn’t even seem natural, resplendent and powerful. Smaller circles of light twirled aimlessly within the beam for a few moments until, like a swarm of fireflies, the all floated up together and conglomerated into a singular bright mass. In a flash, light became a glowing green crystal hovering above the witch’s palm. Junkenstein’s fingers itched to touch it. It looked like it would burn.

Lowering herself to the ground with grace, her feet barely made a sound as they reconnected to the floor. Not a hair out of place or a breath too strained, she held out the crystal to Dr. Junkenstein.

“Behold, good doctor.” She said, the crystal’s green light reflecting against her devilish eyes “I offer that which you seek. The Spark of Life. I will give this to you, and you may use it to finish your work. I want only one thing in return. A day will come when I will call on you for a favor.”

“And no matter what it is,” Her servant was well versed in her deals, and his intimidation often helped seal the pact. “You will honor it.”

The crystal held no discernable weight. If not for the tangible feeling of it in his hands, the doctor would not have known it was there at all. Set deep within the center was a light trapped inside, beating rhythmically. A heartbeat. The choice was simple.

Tearing his eyes away, he cast them upon his monster. No more sleepless nights would he have, futile in his attempts to see his creation breathe and walk. Now, it was all literally within his grasp.

“Jus’ ya wait, baby.” He murmured. The pulse in his hands quickened, matching the beat in his own chest. “I’m gonna make ya a man.”