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mokulule · 9 months ago

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 11

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Part 11:

Danny took a running leap and landed lightly on the next shoddily tiled rooftop. He’d lost the midget in the Southside factory district and now he was in some sketchy neighborhood with smaller buildings. It was on ground level, but it seemed almost like it was sunken into a hole as the rest of the city had grown up around it and swallowed it - one of the main highways even went plain over it.

Danny stopped for a moment catching his breath. The roll of heavy duty cable slung over his shoulder was… well heavy. He looked out over the mishmash of old neon lights and newer LED signs for bars, nightclubs and little kiosks. In the alley next to Danny’s building money was exchanged for services Danny was not sticking around to watch. Blushing, he skipped to the next roof, taking care to land silently.

He should just disappear, he was far enough away from his own hidey hole and he was tired. He was always so freaking tired.

But…

Well, first off he wasn’t phasing through a night club to go underground.

And secondly…

Red Helmet hadn’t showed up.

That was a good thing, Danny told himself frowning, as he walked along the spine of the newest roof, dodging around chimneys. The past weeks had been torture.

Every time the Red Helmet had shown up it had been so hard not to go to him. He’d wanted so bad to give in, to just for moment heed the call of his core, the promise of companionship, comfort. Refusing that instinct was agony. And Ancients, Danny remembered how he’d looked in civilian dress, in that well worn henley, broad chested and with those big arms, he probably gave great hugs - if only he wasn’t one of the vigilantes trying to capture him… And if he wasn’t absolutely terrifying.

Danny shuddered, remembering how angry he’d been last time, yelling for him to stop. Yeah… Red Helmet was… He was an anglerfish, a lure, a treacherous light in the dark, that he had to resist, and last time he’d shown his teeth.

Red Helmet not showing up was a good thing.

Danny stopped and looked up to the cloudy night sky, jaw tight. It was a good thing. Why did he still feel so bereft?

He pulled the goggles down around his neck and rubbed his wet eyes angrily. Fuck it all, he just wanted to go home already!

His only warning was an electrical bzzt and he threw himself to the side instinctively. His eyes widened in fear as he only barely dodged two sticks sparking with arcing lines of electricity. Every hair on his body stood on end. The entire world narrowed in on those two weapons. He jumped backwards, uncaring where it took him he just needed to get away.

Something hit his back and stopped him. His hands touched brick: wall. One of the sparking weapons was swung in lazy swirls as the dark shape attached to it bent down to pick up the roll of cable that had caught on a small chimney. Danny touched his shoulder, finding it bare of its earlier cargo. His hand tightened into a fist angrily and he cursed himself for not paying better attention.

The shape got up and while half Danny’s attention was on the electrified weapon, he could now see it was Blue Bird. Danny had encountered him before, though only a couple of times. He’d been the bantering, good natured sort next to the angry midget, and he hadn’t known those sticks he used for weapons could do that.

Realization ran cold down Danny’s back; Blue Bird hadn’t thought he needed the electricity before, but he did now.

Blue Bird moved and Danny ripped himself free of his petrification. Casting around he realized the wall was not a wall, but a pillar and most importantly neither was a thing that could stop him. It was only at the last second he went intangible and stepped backwards. The metal sticks clanged against the bricks where he’d stood.

The sound of Blue Bird cursing, was a dull far away sound, as Danny started shaking. He kept a tight desperate hold on his intangibility but still felt himself losing focus. He quickly had to go somewhere.

He dropped down until he found one of the many flood pipes that handled overflow if the sewers couldn’t handle the pressure. Something that seemingly didn’t happen too often judging by the dry debris left here. You could say what you wanted about this city, but the web of underground channels and tunnels was impressive, and the city was if nothing else prepared.

He set down carefully and then let go of his intangibility. He was still shaking. His heart was pounding too fast. He wrapped arms around himself and took careful deep breaths even as his body told him he wasn’t getting enough air. But he was, he knew that was the panic speaking.

He fucking hated electricity.

Hated it. Hated it.

You would think he’d be used to it by now. When he died, all the times Vlad shocked him, Vortex, that time Valerie tortured him in a basement, the- He forcefully shut down the thought.

He should be fucking used to it by now!

But he was not. Especially not when it came out of nowhere like this. He’d frozen. They could have caught him. Danny could not be caught. Could not. Could not. Could not.

Shakily he breathed in slowly through his nose and let it out.

They were going to use electricity again. There was no way they wouldn’t take advantage of a weakness like that.

He’d lost the cable.

Red Helmet hadn’t shown.

And why did he keep coming back to that! Of all things that should be the least of his worries. It was a good thing. It was.

It just didn’t feel like it.

Oo o oO

Tim didn’t blame Bruce for letting him take point on this.

After Jason had pointed a gun at him, he was rightfully shaken. Oh, he pretended not to be, but anyone who knew him could tell. There was a furrow edged on his brow even when he played Brucie whenever someone wasn’t directly interacting with him. He was worried and afraid.

And Tim got it. He had been there for everything. He understood how terrified Bruce was of losing Jason again, just as things had been slowly looking up. Bruce was drawing back, which was for the better. The alternative, that Bruce might come to a point where he thought something needed to be done about Jason, was too terrible to imagine. He would do it too, set aside his emotions, and do something, if he thought it was for the best. None of them needed the fallout of a Bruce who’d convinced himself Jason was too dangerous.

He was dangerous. But, thinking of the broken mirror, bleeding feet and tired eyes, Tim thought he was more dangerous to himself.

It had been a painful realization to make. Tim had gone to Jason, with the mission in mind, only to find that maybe Jason had needed someone to check up on him for him. But even worse, Tim couldn’t be that person, because they didn’t have that kind of relationship.

It wasn’t fair.

In an ideal world Tim got to be Jason’s annoying little brother. In an ideal world Tim wouldn’t be afraid of Jason.

What Tim could do was solve this issue. He took a deep breath and put all his emotions aside, they could wait. He was a plans guy and they needed a plan.

Tim surveyed the mess of papers he’d made of the table, as he’d pulled everything off the evidence board. It was time to start from the beginning.

He sorted through and found the “meta?” sign, crossed out the question mark, and hung it in the center of the board.

In the beginning they’d thought primarily that the Ghost used cloaking tech, but the phasing had made that very unlikely, and Duke had all but confirmed the meta theory when he told them he sorta glowed to his senses. He sorted through the papers and trashed those old theories.

He put the known powers back up, then paused when he found the little scrap with a silly cartoon ghost Dick had drawn and put up in the corner of the original board. It had eventually gotten covered with something else and Tim hadn’t seen it when he took things down.

Now he considered it with a sigh, and pinned it next to the powers. Ghost was as good a codename as any and Tim suspected it was only Barbara who still refused to use it because Dick was obnoxious about it. And, Tim moved on to the picture of the phone to pin it back up, there was the fact that the recovered messages said nothing but “ghost”. So there was some connection. He marked that connection with a piece of string to the cartoon ghost.

The short contact list went up with the phone picture.

At some point when this was all over Tim needed to take a closer look at that phone. He had no idea how that brick managed to get any signal, much less how all the contacts were out of service when called from that phone, despite some of them actually being in service. Yet, it could somehow call other existing numbers fine, both local, out of state and international.

It made no logical sense!

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and let it go.

Danny Fenton? went up above meta, they were reasonably sure that was his name. Next Tim took the list of known thefts and dates and hung it up on the left side of the board. Then added Star Lab break in a bit higher up. There was about three weeks in between the Star Lab break in and their first recorded sighting. It could mean anything. He could have stolen numerous things in the mean time without being discovered, or only just gotten to Gotham.

Tim had scoured crime reports of Metropolis and other nearby cities for thefts that fitted Ghost’s MO, but had found none, so for better or worse he seemed to be sticking to Gotham for now.

He put up buyer? And building? Underneath. Tim still had the terrible hunch he was building a portal that would end up destabilizing reality, but since he had nothing but his gut feeling to build that on he couldn’t put it on the board - not the board in the cave anyways.

He trashed a few dead end theories, found a scrap of paper that simply said “electromagnetic interference”. He held it in his hand for a moment, something niggling in his brain, but it was only half formed, he turned around and pinned it under powers and let it go.

Next he pinned up the “weaknesses”. Finally, thanks to Dick’s temper, they had something. He’d not been pleased to come home from his mission to the state of things being even worse so he’d gotten serious and treated the Ghost as an actual threat.

Tim wrote electricity on a new scrap of paper and then put it under weaknesses. He tapped his chin with the capped marker. The Ghost’s behavior was odd. With the abilities he had, why even play chase with them?

He didn’t use the phasing to escape them early on. It was only when Jason entered the picture that began. Was it because the ability had a limit? Did it cost him to use it? Also what prompted the odd reaction to Jason that first night? And what about it made the Ghost so desperate he’d disappeared on them as soon as Jason was in sight?

Tim grabbed a new scrap of paper and pulled off the cap on the marker. He had to resist the urge to write “Jason” on the scrap, he’d keep that thought to himself, and instead wrote “limit?” And hung it under weaknesses with electricity.

There were more papers on the table. An analysis of the electromagnetic signal he gave off, that Tim had used to reduce noice in their visuals and audio. Pictures of the protein bars and the backpack. A map with every place the thief had disappeared on them marked: aka basically spread all over Gotham. A blood sample readout that was too degenerated for a useable DNA sample. These things didn’t go in the trash, but they weren’t important for capturing the Ghost, instead they went into a folder and put to the side.

Table now clear, Tim noticed his favorite mug full of steaming coffee and a plate of cookies set near the edge. He smiled and rubbed a hand through his hair self consciously. He hadn’t even noticed Alfred had been by, but he was a lifesaver. He would have to thank him later.

He took the mug and a cookie and sat himself on the table, surveying the evidence board. He sipped the mug savoring the good coffee. It went perfect with the chocolate chip cookie.

His eyes rested on “electromagnetic signals” again. It had been one of Dick’s early “proofs” that their thief was a ghost - if you subscribed to Ghostbusters lore at least. Tim rolled his eyes. The real reason the ghost couldn’t be a real ghost was that he was visible at all. Only magic users could see ghosts without a spell to make them visible (Something Tim was pretty sure Dick knew). He didn’t actually know whether the electromagnetic disturbance was a real ghost thing, the JLD didn’t need such tools after all when they could see them just fine. And besides if it was it probably wasn’t to the degree the Ghost gave it off.

Would an EMP do anything? Probably not, since they were convinced the Ghost wasn’t using technology at this point, but a small localized pulse couldn’t hurt to try.

He took another sip of his coffee, contemplating, he needed something better. They could run the Ghost around all they wanted, but unless they stopped that phasing, he would get away every time.

Jason couldn’t continue staying out of it like this. They’d chased the Ghost once without him and he was worse than a tiger in a cage, and twice as vicious. Tim scoffed, if only they could put the Ghost in a cage-

Tim’s thoughts crashed to a halt.

No, they couldn’t- it’d never work- but if they-

He jumped off the table, took three steps, then turned back to put down his mug and cookie. Then hurried over to the where they had the maps. With nimble fingers he sorted through the rolls only barely skimming the tags before discarding and moving to the next. They had to have- Got it! A utility map of the industrial area in Southside Gotham. He grabbed it and hurried back to the table. Unrolling it he placed the mug and the plate to hold down the corners even as he was already scanning the map looking for-

There!

It may be a while until the Ghost hit the area again. And they would need all hands on deck for this and preparations had to be made. But…

Tim smiled. They had a plan.

So we've gotten to this point :D Hope you enjoyed it! Comments will keep me warm on my night shift tonight <3

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Update: Next

#dp x dc #dead on main #Jason is catnip to Danny #missed connections #The trap is set #watch out Danny

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ficnation · 1 year ago

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New Neighbor - Fiona Gallagher x Reader

Request: hi!! can i request a fiona x female reader? something where the reader is a neighbor and eventually starts dating fiona? thank you!! requested by anonymous Word count: 1,9k+ Pairing: Fiona Gallagher x Female! Reader Warnings: usual shameless themes, maybe swearing, kinda enemies to lovers trope

Main Masterlist

Shameless Masterlist

The first time you met Fiona Gallagher, she was pretty hostile towards you. The word “hostile” wasn’t nearly enough to describe the way she looked at you. You didn’t have the slightest idea why your mere existence in the same neighborhood was such an inconvenience for her, but the way she treated you was getting on your nerves.

You had been living in Chicago for a few weeks and liked it well enough. The house you inherited after your grandfather wasn’t particularly large, but it was more than enough for you. And it had all the amenities you could ever ask for. The rooms didn’t need to be thoroughly cleaned, bathrooms didn’t have to be scrubbed to look half decent, and windows didn’t need to be replaced. Everything was just right.

You wished your relationship with the neighbors was just as right as the house was. But things weren’t going too well between you and Fiona Gallagher. In fact, if you were being honest with yourself, you were starting to resent her.

You thought bitterly about Fiona’s frown from yesterday morning when you accidentally bumped into her on the sidewalk. You didn’t understand her hatred at all.

Her siblings seemed to like you or at least tolerate you. You were always nice to them, and you didn’t treat them like you were better. Both of your families were stuck in the Southside with no means to move anywhere nicer. The least you could do is give each other a friendly smile from time to time and lend a helping hand when it was needed.

Walking through the front door, you sighed and tossed your keys on the table before flopping onto one of the kitchen chairs. You let yourself rest for a while, too exhausted after your night shift at the bar to do anything productive. You didn’t even want to think about all the other tasks that awaited you.

Not even twenty minutes later, you heard knocking. You got up reluctantly and went over to open the front door. It was probably the neighbors’ kids playing a prank at the cost of your peace and quiet.

But when you opened the door, your breath hitched. Standing there, smiling brightly at you, was Fiona Gallagher.

Her happy face and cheerful voice were something you didn’t expect at all. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a casual plaid shirt and some faded jeans. Even when looking so day-to-day, you had to admit she looked stunning. You slapped yourself mentally for letting that thought enter your head.

Before she could say anything, you stuttered out a greeting and reluctantly stepped aside to let her in.

As soon as Fiona entered the living room, walking past the adjacent kitchen, you closed the door behind her and followed, leaning against the wall beside her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed how close you were to her.

She cleared her throat and played with the hem of her shirt nervously. “You look tired,” she noticed.

You shrugged and tried to play it cool, but inside, you were fuming. “Yeah, I guess I am. I work a lot.”

The brunette nodded and took a seat in one of the armchairs. “I’m sure you’re busy,” the woman said, guilt evident in her voice. Then a second later, she added awkwardly, “Maybe I should just go—”

“No!” Your voice came out louder than intended. You mentally winced at yourself. You weren’t used to her being so nice to you. Embarrassed, you sat down on the couch nearby and rubbed your neck. “I mean... You can stay,” you offered tentatively. “Tell me what you came here for.”

She smiled warmly at you again and nodded. “Alright then.” Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid yours at all costs. You were pretty sure she was trying to find a way to ask you for something without sounding like a horrible person.

The silence stretched a little too long for your comfort, and you shifted in your seat, catching her attention. “So,” you began cautiously. “What brings you here?”

“Oh,” Fiona glanced away from you and chuckled slightly at her own awkwardness. “Right…” She paused for a moment before sighing deeply. “Lip told me you were a mechanic before you started working at Kevin’s bar.”

The way she said it made you feel a little nervous. Lip must have really needed you to help out if he couldn’t fix the issue himself. Or maybe he just wanted to force Fiona to interact with you like a normal person.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s me.” You quickly understood that she was only here because she needed a favor.

Fiona stared at you for a moment, studying your face, trying to read what you were thinking.

“I know you probably don’t want to have anything to do with me and you definitely have no desire to help me with anything,” she finally blurted out. “I just... I really need your help.”

You frowned at her crossing your arms over your chest. “Why wouldn’t I want to help you?” you asked, baiting her.

“Because I’m a bitch.” She sounded honest and regretful of her former attitude toward you. You were surprised.

“You’re not a bitch, Fiona.” You rolled your eyes at her, trying to stay nice even though she didn’t treat you even remotely pleasant before. “You’re just… You’re not the friendliest person around.”

Fiona shook her head. “I think I’m a bitch for doing nothing but getting pissed every day at you because Kevin gave you my job at the bar even though I knew you needed it more than I. I think I’m a bitch because I’ve spent so much time pretending that you’re this horrible horrible person when in fact you were always a sweetheart.” She gave you a sad smile. “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry.”

“Shit, alright.” You blinked a couple of times, still not believing your own ears. It was definitely a pleasant surprise. “It’s all forgiven and forgotten. Now, what do you need me to do?”

“Help me fix that shitty ass car, maybe. Just so I can get to work in time for my shift and not get fired, please,” she asked, looking at you with begging eyes.

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, fine. Let’s see what we can do.”

Fiona grinned widely at you, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture. You felt your cheeks getting warmer. You didn’t know anyone’s smile could be so breathtaking.

The next thing you knew, you were standing outside of Gallagher’s house, sleeves rolled up above your elbows, a grease rag in one hand, and your cheeks smudged black as you worked on the engine of her car. Your hair fell in front of your face every now and then, so you tucked it away with your fingers.

It was hot and humid, and everything smelled like gasoline. For a second, you wondered what you were doing here, but the feeling of satisfaction you felt knowing that Fiona’s car was almost fixed and that she could now drive it again pushed away any thought of leaving. Besides, you figured you wouldn’t mind spending another hour in her company.

“Hey, thanks so much for helping me,” Fiona said after a while.

You didn’t reply but sent an awkward smile her way as you just kept working. You didn’t know how to act around her yet. Gossiping about the neighborhood and small talk came easily, but when she tried to ask about your family and deeper things, you couldn’t help but avoid responding.

She was silent for a few more minutes until she spoke again, “Lip told me you’re leaving Chicago soon.”

“Yeah, by the end of the month,” you replied without taking your eyes off your work to study her reaction. “I’m going back to California for my friend’s wedding and I have some shit to take care of while I’m there. Not really sure how long it’ll take me.”

“I’ll miss seeing you around.” Her voice sounded sincere, but you still didn’t buy her words.

You snorted slightly at that. “Doubt it. We’re hardly friends,” you pointed out. “You hated me like an hour ago.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow at you challengingly. “Maybe I’m changing my mind about that.”

“I’ll let you prove it to me,” you snorted, wiping your hands on your jeans. “I think it’s done.” You nodded at the car.

The brunette smiled widely, jumping into the car and trying the engine. The car spluttered for a moment before changing into a steady hum.

“It works!”

When you came back from California, you felt relaxed and ready to take on everything and everyone that the world decided to throw at you. Not only has the state of your mind improved, but so did your relationship with Fiona.

She kept texting you through the few weeks you spent out of Chicago. You didn’t remember giving her your number, but you guessed that Kevin or Lip gave it to her.

You texted her back whenever you could. Her messages were full of random ramblings and questions about your trip. At some point, you found yourself looking forward to her texts, glancing at your phone every few minutes. Fiona gained your trust and friendship quicker than you expected.

What you also didn’t expect was to see her the moment you parked your car in the driveway. But here she was, sitting on the wooden steps of your house, smiling brightly. Her hair was down in soft waves that framed her face perfectly. The kohl under her beautiful brown eyes made them stand out against her pale skin. You couldn’t help but stare at her through the side window, amazed.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, neighbor!” she called out, jumping to her feet when you got out of the car to greet her.

“If I knew you’d be waiting for me, I’d probably get a speeding ticket along the way.” You grinned at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The road back was neither the shortest nor the most pleasant, and you were worried you looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

Fiona walked up to you quickly before throwing her arms around your waist, which made you gasp in surprise. You reluctantly returned the embrace, burying your face in the crook of her neck. You let yourself get enveloped by her smell—the smell of cigarettes and coffee with a tint of sweet perfume—for some reason, it was just intoxicating.

“Did you miss me that much?” you whispered against her, feeling her shudder at the sensation of your breath washing over her heated skin.

“I’m proving I like you, just like you said.” Fiona pulled away to look you in the eyes. She spent a few minutes studying your face longingly. “Go on a date with me?”

You smiled brightly. “So I take it that you like women just as much as I do?”

“I definitely like you like that.”

The brunette leaned in, brushing her lips against yours, waiting for your reaction. She partially thought you’d pull away and reject her after how she treated you before, but to her and your surprise, you didn’t. You tangled your fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, sealing your lips together in a rough kiss.

“I think I like you like that too,” you mumbled out against her lips.

@humanmistakes

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#shameless #shameless x reader #fiona gallagher x reader #fiona gallagher #fiona gallagher x female reader #shameless imagine #fiona gallagher x you #the gallaghers

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marvelling-at-marvel-blog · 6 months ago

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I find Trevor from shameless the most frustrating characther.

When he first introduced, I really liked him, the way he could really help Ian explore life outside of his southside world and more of the LGBT world was interesting. And I love the actor who plays him, but his character just did not work, and I know why. It was bad writing. (Also, I have to admit I didn't feel the chemistry between the actors, even if they were both playing their roles well.)

Now, first off, I think that Shameless really dropped the ball in writing new characters after season 5 or 6. Especially love interests. In the early seasons, all the Gallagher's interests were people outside of their relationship with a Gallagher. Love or hate them. I could tell you plenty about them, and they interacted and had storylines outside of their love interest.

I mean, think of Karen, Jimmy, Mandy, Shelia, Mickey and even Svetlana.l. They were all interesting outside of just being a love interest, and they all had personality and backgrounds. I really think Shameless lost that in their later seasons writing.

See Kelly, Trevor, Tammi, Caleb, Ford and Cassidy for example. It felt like they purely existed to only further thier LIs storyline. Even the writing of Mickey, when he returned as a main character, wasn't as in-depth as it was in either early seasons.l and just seemed to be more to drive storyline and comedy than in-charachter for him

So, back to Trevor. I wanted to like him, and I did for his first few episodes, but his writing frustrates me so complelty. I think as a person who also works in social services, his actions and contradictions make no sense. So in the episode that Mickey comes back when Ian goes to see him, he is really busy because his trying to place a kid. And when he thinks if he can't, he says he may have to just let them crash on his couch. Which pinged me as completely inappropriate as a social services worker as you can never have a child just say on your couch like that as you are crossing so many professional boundaries and as he rightfullylayer says can give the wrond ide. But in S8, when Ian has that girl stay over, he (rightfully) tells Ian that is completely inappropriate and then gets really mad at him for it, which just made him annoyingly hypocritical.

He is apparently working with at risk youth and abused kids, yet he tells Ian that Monica is trying and to give her another chance as Ian is being unfair to her, that he is being to hard in her. Crazy. I could not think of a single person in this job who would have that attitude towards neglectful or problematic parents. Because anyone in this job would know setting boundaries is healthy and that anyones trauma is thiers to feel how they feel about. Same with the way he treats Ian's grief after losing Monica. When he takes him to the place with the chubby guys, they lost me completely.

Then we have the idea that Ian was clearly sprialing later in S8 and going off his meds, but Trevor seems unaware even though anyone could see it let alone someone with any kind of training.

His writing is just so bad and seems literally to be only to serve Ian's storyline and screw his character development outside of that. Especially in S8. Then he doesn't even appear at Ian's court preceding and just disappears

I think he could have been good for Ian. And I think with the lack of chemistry I felt between them maybe they should have just been friends after the whole cheating thing. And maybe it's the fact that Cameron's chemistry is off the charts with Noel that made it really feel like he had none with Caleb or Trevor but that doesn't make up for bad writing. I get that writing a new post-Mickey love interest is hard after how much fans love him, but the writers can only blame themselves for that too as the never wrote a good ending storyline for a loved charcther they though was leaving for good at end of S5.

Shameless really lost a lot for me when they stopped writing their supporting character as interesting people outside of their relationship.

Trevor is my example charcther of that. That actor deserved better.

#shameless #shameless meta #ian gallagher #trevor shameless #mickey milkovich #why was the wrting so bad in later seasons #trevor deserved better #instead he is just a bore and confusing #early season shameless really wrote beautifully interesting characters all round #i hated jimmy/steve but he was intersting #same with Karen #Mandy had a whole ass friendship with Ian outside of Lip #mickey had delaing with Svetlana and Kev at the bar in early seasons #ugh I hate that I dislike trevor #gallavich #was almost possible to replace because the actors had insane chemsitry #but good writing could have tried

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storyscribeforthesentiment · 3 months ago

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the detective & the dark knight | chapter 2

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f! main character

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoy a cute, budding partnership between Marie and Batman!

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: mentions of murder (what can you expect in Gotham!!), gun violence, mentions of police bribes

Marie Manning’s day began with a much-needed caffeine boost. As she sipped from her old, chipped mug, the coffee's warmth chased away the last traces of the cold Gotham morning. Her long hair tumbled in loose waves around her shoulders, a departure from the usual neat bun she favored.

After the intense encounter with the caped crusader at the docks and the long hours spent at the hospital interviewing the victim, she had stumbled into bed around 2 a.m., managing only a few restless hours of sleep before her alarm went off. She’d barely had the energy to get dressed, let alone style her hair.

As she settled into her desk at the precinct, the weight of last night’s events lingered. The encounter with Batman was still fresh in her mind, and she found herself replaying the tense exchange over and over.

Her desk was piled high with case files, each more disturbing than the last. Marie pushed through her paperwork, her mind buzzing with the implications of the previous night’s events. The Southside homicides had become more than just a case—they were a puzzle that demanded her full attention.

“Hey, Manning,” Harvey Bullock greeted her, his voice a rough rumble that cut through the quiet hum of the office. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Marie forced a smile. “Just a long night, Bullock. What’s up?” He shrugged, tossing a folder onto her desk. “Gordon wants to see you. Said it’s important.”

Marie’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been expecting this—her encounter with Batman had undoubtedly attracted Gordon’s attention. She trudged into Gordon’s office, her eyes bleary from lack of sleep. Gordon looked up, his expression serious but reassuring.

“What’s going on, Commissioner?”

Gordon leaned forward, his expression serious. “Remember what I mentioned over the phone while you were at the hospital? About how I’ve been working with Batman?”

“I remember.” Tell me more, Marie thought to herself.

Gordon took a breath. “He’s been an invaluable ally for me over the years. We first worked together about five years ago, during a chaotic period in Gotham. His methods might be unconventional, but they get results.”

Marie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been working with him that long?”

“Yes,” Gordon said. “He’s one of the few people I trust completely. His resources and information are beyond what we can access. We keep our collaboration quiet because it’s not something everyone would understand.”

Marie was intrigued. “How did it all start?”

“It began when he saved my life during a gang bust. We realized we shared the same goal: cleaning up Gotham. Since then, we’ve developed a solid working relationship. He’s helped with cases that intersect with ours, and he’s saved my team more than once.” Marie absorbed the information, impressed. “So, you want me to work with him?”

“Yes,” Gordon confirmed. “I’ve set up a meeting for tonight. Be prepared for anything—his methods are unconventional, but his help could be crucial.”

Marie nodded, her mind racing. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Gordon’s expression softened. “Remember, this is confidential. No one else knows about this arrangement.”

That evening, Marie prepared for her meeting with Batman. The location was an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Southside, a place that had been the scene of one of the unsolved cases. The warehouse was a fitting setting for a covert meeting—a place where shadows ruled and secrets could be kept.

Marie arrived at the warehouse just as the sun was setting. The building loomed in the twilight, its broken windows and graffiti-covered walls giving it a menacing appearance. She took a deep breath.

As she stepped inside, the warehouse was dark and quiet, save for the distant echo of her footsteps. The only light came from the moon filtering through the broken windows. Marie moved cautiously, her senses on high alert.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. Batman stood tall and imposing, his presence commanding attention. Marie’s breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm. He stood in a corner, his silhouette imposing against the backdrop of dusty crates and old industrial equipment.

“Batman,” she began, keeping her voice steady, “Commissioner Gordon mentioned you might be able to assist with the Southside cases.”

Batman’s dark eyes, barely visible behind the lenses of his cowl, seemed to pierce through the gloom. “I saw you at the docks,” he said, his voice deep and measured.

Marie nodded, trying to steady her racing heartbeat. “Yeah, I was there. The situation was more dangerous than I anticipated. This case is proving to be more complex than we thought. Gordon said you can help. That you two have been working together for awhile.”

A silence stretched between them as Batman stepped forward, his movements precise and deliberate. “The case you’re working on involves connections to organized crime. I’ve gathered some intelligence that might be useful.”

Marie shifted uncomfortably, her mind racing to piece together what she knew with what Batman might reveal. “I appreciate the help. I’m still trying to connect the dots between the victims and the potential suspects.”

Batman’s gaze remained fixed on her. “I have information on patterns in the crimes, potential suspects, and connections to organized crime. We need to cross-reference our findings.”

Marie took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I’ve been going through the interviews I conducted and the evidence we’ve collected. It’s been overwhelming trying to see how everything fits together.” Batman remained silent for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. “Your methods seem thorough. What’s your next step?”

Marie’s hands fidgeted slightly as she spoke. “I was planning to follow up on a lead involving a local crime boss. There’s a connection I’m trying to confirm.”

Batman’s eyes, though obscured by the cowl, seemed to reflect a deeper understanding. “I can assist with that. I have resources and contacts that might provide additional information.”

The conversation was terse but substantive. Marie found herself grappling with her feelings of awkwardness and insecurity in the face of Batman’s unyielding professionalism. She respected his abilities but felt a nagging sense of uncertainty about how to navigate this partnership.

After a moment of contemplation, Marie gathered her courage and asked, “Can I ask you something? Your name—what should I call you?”

Batman’s gaze remained unwavering, and he did not answer immediately. The silence grew heavy, and Marie felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Finally, Batman spoke, his tone impersonal but not unkind. “Names aren’t important.”

Marie nodded in response, a mixture of disappointment and resignation in her eyes.

As they began to share their findings, Batman outlined his intelligence with precision, detailing connections he had uncovered and patterns he had noticed. Marie matched his insights with her own data, piecing together a clearer picture of the criminal network they were up against.

Their collaboration was marked by a blend of tension and professionalism. Batman’s approach was unorthodox, relying on intimidation and his own unique resources, while Marie’s work was rooted in traditional police methods. Despite their differing styles, they started to find common ground.

Marie couldn’t shake her nervousness as she worked alongside him. The vastness of his expertise and the air of mystery surrounding him made her feel like an outsider in this unusual partnership. But she also felt a spark of determination—this was her chance to make a real impact, and she was not going to let her insecurities get in the way. Batman’s presence was a constant reminder of the stakes they faced. His skills were formidable, and his commitment to justice was clear, but Marie wondered about the man behind the mask. Despite his reticence, she couldn’t deny the respect she felt for his dedication and the efficiency with which he worked.

As they wrapped up their discussion and prepared to part ways, Marie took a deep breath and looked at Batman. “Thank you for your help tonight. I know this isn’t exactly the usual way things are done.” Batman gave a slight nod, his eyes hidden but his acknowledgment clear. “We’re both after the same goal. Let’s hope our combined efforts make a difference.”

With that, Batman melted back into the shadows, leaving Marie alone in the dimly lit warehouse. As she headed back to her car, she felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. —-------------------------------

Marie and Batman navigated the labyrinth of shipping containers under the cover of night. The chill in the air, mixed with the fog rolling in from the nearby docks, added an unsettling ambiance to their surroundings. Marie’s flashlight swept across the dimly lit scene, revealing the rusted steel and tangled cables that made up the containers. They had pinpointed this location as a potential stash house for Falcone, and the tip they received suggested it could be hiding key evidence. As they delved deeper, the weight of their investigation pressed heavily on their shoulders, amplifying the stakes of their mission.

“This place could be where Falcone’s hiding something,” Marie said, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. “We need to find something that links him to the murders.”

Batman’s silhouette loomed beside her. “Falcone’s network is vast. Any intel here could be crucial.”

Without warning, gunfire erupted, shattering the night’s quiet. Marie dove behind a container, her heart pounding. Batman moved like a shadow, swiftly confronting the attackers.

Peeking around the corner, Marie saw Batman’s efficient takedowns. As a burst of gunfire flew dangerously close, Batman lunged, gently pushing Marie out of harm’s way with a practiced ease.

Marie seized the opportunity. Emerging swiftly from her cover, she tackled one of Falcone’s enforcers with a precisely timed strike, her kickboxing training coming to the forefront. As she drove him to the ground, she quickly assessed the situation—several more of Falcone's men were closing in, their weapons drawn and ready.

Amid the chaos, she caught sight of a familiar face—a low-level cop from her precinct working with Falcone’s men. The realization of deep-rooted corruption stung.

Falcone stepped into view, unfazed by the commotion around him. “Detective Manning,” he called out with a smirk. “I didn’t realize you graduated from chasing petty thieves to tackling the big leagues. How about we cut a deal?”

Marie glared at him, her voice unwavering. “I’m not here for bribes."

Falcone’s smirk faltered. “And what are you here for?”

Marie’s gaze was unwavering. “Arresting you would be a good start.”

A charged silence followed.

Falcone’s expression hardened as he gestured dismissively toward his armed men. “You see, if you try that, things are going to get very messy. I wouldn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

Marie considered drawing her gun but hesitated, noting that she was exposed with no cover. She remained where she was, eyes locked on Falcone, hoping for any sign of Batman.

With a measured nod to his men, Falcone said, “Just so you know, the offer still stands if you reconsider.”

As Falcone and his crew retreated, Batman emerged from the shadows. His gaze locked onto Marie, a mixture of respect and approval in his eyes.

“You did well,” Batman said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Not many would turn down an offer like that.”

Marie exhaled, her adrenaline still high. “It’s not just about the money. This city needs to be cleaned up, and I’m not backing down.” A moment passed before she joked, “Though, the money would be nice to get out of my deadbeat apartment.”

Batman’s eyes softened behind his cowl. “You’re one of the few detectives I trust in this city. That’s not something I say lightly.”

Marie felt a flush of pride at his words. “Thanks,” she said, a touch of awkwardness in her voice. She bent down, placing her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath after the fight. “Fuck those guys,” she muttered under her breath.

Batman, still assessing the scene, caught the tail end of her comment. A rare, almost imperceptible smile flickered across his face as he turned back to his work.

—-------------------------------

The moon cast a cold, silver glow over the abandoned building as Marie and Batman surveyed the crumbling facade. The structure, once a bustling warehouse, now stood desolate, its windows shattered and walls graffitied. The two had agreed to investigate after hearing rumors that it might be a hideout for one of Gotham’s elusive crime syndicates.

As they moved carefully through the debris-strewn entrance, Marie glanced at Batman, who was scanning the area with a meticulous gaze. The silence of the place was almost oppressive, broken only by the occasional drip of water from a leaky ceiling.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” She asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, Gotham’s corruption and crime—it's like a never-ending battle. Does it wear you down?”

Batman’s gaze remained fixed on the darkened cityscape, his voice gravelly but thoughtful. “It’s hard to avoid the fatigue. But knowing that every action, every investigation might lead to a breakthrough keeps me going. Gotham’s problems aren’t solved overnight, but every small victory matters.”

Marie nodded, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her blazer. “I get that. I’m new to the homicide division, but even in my short time, it feels like the deeper I dig, the more layers of filth I uncover. It’s fucked up.”

Batman’s voice softened, revealing a rare touch of empathy. “I’ve been in this fight for years. There are moments when it feels like I’m making no difference, but then there are small victories that make it feel worth it.”

Marie glanced over at him, her expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and understanding. “What made you decide to become… well, Batman?”

There was a brief pause before Batman spoke, his tone more introspective than usual. “It started with a personal loss. My parents were murdered when I was young." A long silence followed. Marie didn't want to pry, so they walked in the silence.

After a few minutes, he continued, "I vowed to prevent others from experiencing that kind of pain. It became about more than just revenge—it’s about making sure that others don’t suffer the same fate.”

Marie’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been." She looked at Batman, and he continued scanning for any potential danger.

"For me, it’s about trying to make a difference where I can. My father was a cop, and he always said that the best way to fight against corruption is to stand up to it, no matter how daunting it seems.”

Batman turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. “You’re doing more than you realize. It takes courage to stand against the tide, especially here.”

Marie gave a small smile. “Thanks. I guess we both have our reasons for doing what we do. Sometimes it’s nice to know that someone else understands the weight of it all.”

Batman nodded, a rare hint of warmth in his voice. “We might come from different worlds, but we share a common goal."

—-------------------------------

The nights became a blend of late hours and incremental progress. Gotham’s darkness revealed itself piece by piece.

With each breakthrough, Marie and Batman felt closer to solving the case. Their professional interactions were tinged with a growing mutual respect. Batman admired Marie’s bravery and determination, and Marie couldn’t help but appreciate that Batman’s commitment to justice came with the added bonus of being able to kick anyone’s ass with style.

One night, Marie and Batman were holed up in the dimly lit corner of an abandoned warehouse, sifting through evidence. Marie was hunched over a stack of case files, her eyes bleary but determined. She had taken a quick break to dig into a container of Chinese takeout she’d brought along—her small indulgence during the long nights of work.

Batman watched her, his expression hidden behind the cowl but clearly intrigued by her casual approach. “You’re doing well. You’ve got a knack for cutting through the noise,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Marie looked up from her files, taking a moment to chew thoughtfully on a dumpling. “Thanks. Sometimes, I feel pretty useless here. I’ve made more progress with you than I could’ve on my own.”

Batman gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that takeout?”

Marie chuckled, her tiredness momentarily forgotten. “Yep. It’s my survival food. You don’t eat, do you?”

Batman tilted his head, a faint, almost amused glint in his eyes. “I do, but not on stakeouts.”

Marie’s grin widened. “You know, I was just thinking—what does a bat eat anyway? Must be a pretty weird diet. Bugs?”

Batman’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, as if he was considering the question. “Not bugs. Mostly protein bars and coffee.”

That was the first bit of personal information he’d given Marie. She didn’t even know his name, but she knew his preferred snacks. Marie laughed, shaking her head. “That’s a diet fit for a superhero. No wonder you’re always so serious.”

Batman paused for a moment, then said, “Seriousness is part of the job.”

Marie popped another dumpling into her mouth. “And eating takeout is part of mine. We all have our quirks.”

As she continued to eat, Batman’s gaze softened ever so slightly, a hint of amusement flickering behind his mask. “Glad you’re finding a way to stay sane through all this.”

Marie looked up, her eyes meeting his. “Same to you. We’re both making it work.”

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katsu28 · 2 years ago

Note

🍭 “I love you.” “You do?” with jj maybank :)

i haven't written for this himbo in a hot minute, so thank you for this anna baby!!! pls enjoy pining jj <33

jj maybank x reader, short lil best friends to lovers + love confession, 1.6k

“Holy shit, he’s here and I’m not ready yet! J, go stall for time!” You exclaimed, angling your head towards your bedroom, where JJ had been camped out on your bed for hours now, having been the poor soul relegated to help you choose an outfit for your date tonight. The doorbell had just rung whilst you were in the middle of doing your makeup, nearly sending you into a frenzy.

“Got it!” He yelled back, heaving himself to his feet and stomping down the hall to answer the door, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

There was nothing he wanted to do less than make small talk with yet another guy that wasn’t him taking you on a date. But you asked, and JJ always did what you asked. It came with the territory of being head over heels in love with your best friend.

He plastered a neutral look on his face, pulling open the front door only to be met with some dude who he vaguely recognized as being one of Sarah’s slightly less stuck up Kook friends—Preston who the fuck knows what. Probably some fancy ass last name like Berkeshire. Harrington. Vanderbilt. Something hyphenated, or with a Jr. or II tacked on the end of it.

Preston something or other looked a bit surprised to see him standing on the other side of the door but recovered quickly, guy nodding at him suavely. “Hey man. Is Y/N here?”

“She’s almost ready.” JJ replied, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. Preston nodded again, shifting on his feet. He looked nervous, JJ noticed. Good. Then he noticed the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. “Carnations, huh?”

“Yeah, you think she’ll like them?” He straightened the cellophane surrounding them, tucking a stray leaf back into the bunch.

“Oh, totally.” JJ was being one hundred percent sarcastic, but Preston didn’t know that. If he really knew you at all, he would know that you hated carnations. That you thought they were tacky and too bright. And if JJ wanted to be a good guy, he’d tell Preston before he made the wrong impression on you. But he wasn’t going to. He knew he probably should, but he wasn’t going to. Call him selfish. “So tell me, Preston, what’s the agenda for tonight? Where are y’all going?”

“Uh, nowhere special. Dinner at that new bistro on Main and maybe a walk around town afterward.” Preston chuckled awkwardly, licking his lips.

Damn it. That was actually a really good date idea.

“Preston, hi!” You interjected breathlessly, rushing past JJ to give the other boy a brief hug. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I hope this one didn’t tell you too many embarrassing stories about me.”

“I would never.” JJ mock gasped, pressing a hand against his chest.

“Yes, you would.”

“Alright, maybe I would.” He shrugged. “Anyways, whatever! Get outta here, kids, go have fun. Not too much fun though, Preston my man! No funny business, have her home by eleven, yadda yadda.”

“Bye, J. Try not to burn down the house while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try my best.” He saluted you, ignoring the warmth in his chest when you rolled your eyes playfully at him. Then you were gone, leaving JJ alone.

He did admit, he worked himself up a little too much waiting for you to come home. Maybe he almost paced a hole in the floor just thinking about what could happen if this date actually went well. He could see it now, ten, fifteen years into the future—you were a Figure 8 trophy wife with two kids who looked annoyingly just like Preston, and JJ was still here on the southside, hopelessly in love with his happily married, Kook-converted best friend.

Okay, maybe he was overreacting a little bit, but he couldn’t help it. Nothing he did seemed to quell the thoughts ping-ponging around in his brain; all he could do was wait for you to come home and tell him everything, like you always did.

-------

He straightened up the second he heard your key twisting in the lock, swinging his legs down to the floor from where they’d previously been hooked over the back of the sofa. Play it cool, bro.

“That’s it!” You huffed, throwing open the front door and traipsing inside, kicking off your shoes before flopping down next to him rather dramatically. “I’m calling it now! I’m never gonna find anyone!”

JJ thumped your forehead from where your head had landed in his lap upon landing. “I take it the date didn’t go well?”

“That would be the understatement of a century.”

“Well, I didn’t like him anyways, so.” You squinted up at him, frowning. “What? He got you carnations, Y/N. You hate carnations.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t hate Preston. He seemed nice, but the whole night, he was just…off, I dunno.” You sighed, waving a vague hand. “It was weird, I saw him this morning and he said he was excited, but when he came here it was like his whole vibe changed.” Part of that was probably his interaction with JJ, but the blond boy held his tongue. You sat up, angling yourself to face him with furrowed brows. “What did you say to him when he got here earlier?”

“Me? I didn’t say shit, I was just sussin’ him out. Simply exercising my duty as best friend.”

“Bullshit, you were probably sabotaging me!” Grabbing a pillow, you shoved your face into it, letting out a strangled groan. JJ patted your leg soothingly (he hoped), lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s whatever though. I don’t care anymore. I’m just never gonna find love in this lifetime.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” He chided, easing the pillow away from your face. “That’s not true. You’ll find love.” With me, he wanted to add. He didn’t.

“Thanks, J. But I don’t…I really don’t know anymore. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but it just feels like everytime I think ‘wow, this could be the time’, it just doesn’t work out.” You mumbled, picking at a loose thread at the hem of your shirt. “Makes me think that maybe it’s me, maybe I’m just unlovable.”

And that—you thinking that you were unlovable when JJ had loved you all his life—that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“I love you.” He blurted, brows furrowing.

Your breath caught in your chest, and you hesitated a second. “You do?”

“Fuck—yeah. Yeah, I do. ‘Course I do.” He sighed, dragging a hand through his already unruly hair, causing it to spring back in every which way. “How could I not?”

“Since when?”

“Are you kidding me? Since forever, Y/N. Honestly, probably since the first day we met, back when we were what, seven? You told me you liked my hair. Said it reminded you of gold, then you shared your fruit snacks with me. And that,” JJ chuckled, shaking his head, “that stuck with me, ever since then.”

“I remember.” You said softly, the memory bringing a small smile to your face. You’d met JJ on the first day of second grade, and it seemed like you’d just been attached at the hip ever since. He knew everything about you, you knew everything about him—except for the fact that he’d been in love with you ever since.

So really, maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.

“I can see the gears turning in your head right now.” He bumped his knuckles against your knee, ducking to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to say anything right now, I know it’s—it’s probably hard to take in. But it’s the truth. You were never unloveable, Y/N, you’re fucking perfect. You just…hadn’t found the right guy to love yet. And it might not be me, but I just needed you to know that you’re not doing anything wrong. Those guys are just fucking stupid if they didn’t see what I see in you. What I’ve always seen.”

You didn’t respond, instead just leaning forward and taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his, kissing him before you chickened out. If JJ was surprised he masked it well, only taking less than a beat to react. He reached out blindly, hands finding your waist to pull you onto his lap as he kissed you back eagerly.

“That was—what was that?” He breathed, pink lips parted and now shiny with your lipgloss, eyes bluer than the summer sky gazing wide right at you.

“Wanted to see if it felt right.” You whispered.

His chest rose and fell, pushing against yours with every deep breath he took in an attempt to keep calm despite his electric nerves. “And did it?”

“It did.” You confirmed with a nod, a small grin stretching your lips.

Everything was making sense now, like pieces slotting into a lifelong puzzle. The reason you were having such a hard time finding someone to love and someone to love you was because the person you needed and didn’t realize you wanted had been right in front of you for years, and you’d been too blind to see it all this time. But you saw it now.

You saw JJ now, and nothing had been clearer.

“I love you, J.”

JJ’s eyes fluttered shut almost blissfully, head lolling back against the couch cushions. “Shit, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.” He gave your waist a quick squeeze before letting his hand come up to give himself a light slap on the cheek.

“What’re you doing?” You giggled, tugging his hand away from his face.

“Making sure this isn’t another one of my dreams.”

Your brows lifted teasingly. “You dream about me?”

“All the fucking time, sweetheart.” His fingers traced the inside of your wrist, basking in the feeling of your soft skin warm against his, the view of you sitting on top of him looking like the epitome of beauty. He’d imagined this moment countless times, but never once did he think it would ever become a reality.

“And how do those dreams usually end?”

JJ smirked, eyes now gleaming with mischief. “You want me to show you?”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x fem!reader #outer banks #rudy pankow #kait celebrates 1k!#so excited to see my man in a month eeeee #obx3 pls come quicker

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gallawitchxx · 7 months ago

Note

29 for the kisses, please!

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#29: ...as a promise

The digital clock on the wall is a goddamn tease.

How is it only three-thirty?

It’s not the worst job in the world, working the reception desk at an auto repair shop. It’s mostly just answering phones and handing out intake forms. Running credit cards upon drop-off and pick-up, and using what little knowledge he has about cars to field basic questions. Ian’s a little surprised that his parole officer had stuck him in a place that was clearly running some kind of illegal chop shop after hours, but whatever.

Southside is as Southside does.

But today has been fucking dragging. A shipping delay had pushed a ton of work back a week or two, so there was only one pick-up on the books, and it had already happened. At nine a.m., right at the beginning of his eight-hour shift. One can only clean a desk so many times before starting to feel a little buzzed off cleaning spray fumes, so for the past couple of hours, Ian’s been supremely bored, his mind bouncing from one topic to another, trying to keep him occupied, but away from the mechanical sounds coming from the belly of the shop.

The ones coming from the only mechanic on duty today—Mickey.

Jesus, Ian’s got it bad for the guy.

Between Mickey’s filthy fucking mouth, greased-up knuckle tattoos, and the way his ass looks in a pair of coveralls, Ian never really stood a chance. But then he had to go and be funny and smart and secretly sweet with the kids who come in with their parents, and in no time at all, Ian was halfway to being fully in love.

The way Mickey looks at him doesn’t help the situation either, nor does the coffee and Kind bar combo he drops at Ian’s desk every shift, which means Mickey heard and remembered an off-the-cuff comment Ian made one morning when discussing break room snacks with the shop owner.

But what’s really making things hard—literally—is what happened the last time he saw Mickey…

A few nights back, a freak downpour had collided with a blocked drainpipe and flooded the shop’s main floor. They’d had to shut the whole place down so that the mechanics could instead work on pumping rainwater back outside where it belonged. When the worst of it was over, Mickey promised to take care of the rest, shooing the other guys out the door and home to their families. Ian, who didn’t have anywhere to be, and was a bit distracted by the way Mickey’s wet tank top was clinging to his cut chest, offered to stay and help finish the job.

Help Mickey out with another job, too...

But that was days ago, and even though Ian’s knees still ache from where he’d knelt on damp concrete, they haven’t talked since. Not even when Mickey had dropped off his breakfast! Ian had been on the phone, the timing of which felt suspect.

By the time four-o-clock crawls around, Ian’s worked up the nerve to go say something. But then the chime on the door alerts him to someone coming in, and before he can even say hello, some asshole is screaming at him about promised timelines and demanding a refund.

Ian puts on his best customer service smile and tries to smooth things out, but it doesn’t work. More yelling ensues.

“Ey, there a problem up here?” Mickey’s voice cuts through the noise.

“Yeah, there is,” spits the douchebag. “My car was supposed to be ready a fucking week ago, and this idiot here can’t seem to make that happen.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mickey says, taking a step forward. “Imma stop you right there.” He looks at Ian for the first time (since he came down his throat). “Gallagher, can you head to the back and grab me the project file? Should be somewhere on my station.”

Ian blinks. “But the files aren’t—“

“Now, Ian,” Mickey commands, his blue eyes blazing. “Go.”

“Sure thing,” he says, rising from his chair.

The rage-red moron has the nerve to fucking smirk at him, and fuck, Ian doesn’t fight anymore—swore to his court-ordered therapist he was done with that shit—but this asshole just might get him back in the ring. His hands itch as he passes, clenching and un-clenching as his jaw clicks.

Mickey avoids his gaze, which pisses him off even further.

Ian forces himself onto the shop floor, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Mickey joins him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Ian scans him for signs of a struggle, but he looks good. Great, even, his cheeks pinked. “You?”

“Course. Forget that dick. Caved quick and left. It’s a fuckin’ shipping issue, ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”

Ian nods, unsure what to do or how to proceed. After a beat, he mutters a weak thanks.

Fuck, it’s awkward.

Then,

“Didn’t know—”

“Listen, man, I—”

They both stop talking, laughing nervously, the tension breaking just enough for some of their natural chemistry to seep back into the situation. Ian’s hands now itch with a wholly new desire to touch and caress instead of maim.

“I coulda handled him, you know,” Ian mutters.

Mickey chuckles. “Don’t doubt that for a second. Thought you were gonna fuckin’ deck that dude.”

“I was—I would have…” Ian shrugs. “But if I went back to prison, we couldn’t finish what we started the other night.”

And well, that gets Mickey’s attention.

“Guess that makes me a hero or somethin’ then, huh?” His voice is like gravel as he steps into Ian’s space.

Ian stares at his mouth. “Or something.”

“Tell ya what…” Mickey stares back. “He comes back, we’ll kick his ass together. Can pin it on me if the pigs show up.”

“Promise?”

Mickey answers with his lips, his teeth, and his sinful fucking tongue.

By the time they leave for the night, their knees have matching bruises.

#I LOVE YOU BESTIE #i hope you like this lil ditty #i just think they should always hook-up in their place of work #no matter the universe or circumstances #also please know that this was inspired by my desire for you to be done with work as quickly as possible #& also by howl who yelled at me to just WRITE A KISS ALREADY #thanks howl love you howl #anywhooo i failed to write another full kiss but at least there was tongue this time!#LOVE YOU JUJUBEE!#shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

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soraviie · 2 years ago

Text

maniac.oneshot

━ type: yoongi x f! reader ━ masterlist ━ word count: 3k

━ about: He comes here to look for medicine. Here in this scornful embrace of yours.

━ c/w: violence, blood, patching someone up, stitches, needles , absolutely unhinged, obsessive Yoongi + (sort of) morally grey reader; she doesn't like him much

━ leave a comment and show this fic some love otherwise I'll steal your food. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

There’s a quiet rapping at the window pane that doesn't come as a surprise. It’s well dark outside, some ungodly minute after three in the morning. You know who it is.

You hope he leaves.

You hope he just disappears and that once he does breathing will become a bit easier.

But since it is him, you should have known that such a simple, soft thing as silence wouldn’t be enough of a deterrent.

Hearing the unsubtle “shit!” and a loud, body like thud crashing against the blue glazed tiles of your god-awful kitchen, you flinch beneath the covers, weighing the option of just ignoring yet another visit of his. Two years of his indulged insanity, of his rotting hands infecting everything he brushed past.

Two years of him rotting you whole.

And who wouldn't be sick of that? Day and night going around and around, and around?

But if you knew Yoongi at all, you also knew the fact he’d make your night a living hell. He’d all but drag you out of this bed by your ankles if that's what it'd take to get your attention.

So who was this man — Min Yoongi?

With a sigh and eye roll, you push the twin duvets off, yearning for their warmth in the otherwise chilly air.

Min Yoongi was a thief, a killer, always choosing violence, face so pretty with heart so hard you'd think he was stone-carved, and, unfailingly, unflinchingly —

You pad towards the kitchen door finding him laughing deliriously on the tiled floor, blood spilling all over his beaten mouth.

— insane.

“Why did you fix your window?” he whines in a sort of tone of voice that should not be admissible to anyone within his line of…work. But Min Yoongi could get away with it because he could get away with anything. Murder. Mayhem. His vile, repulsive nature.

“I broke it so perfectly. Could slip in an’ out. Like butter.”

“Maybe that’s why I fixed it,” dryly, you respond, crossing your arms around the chest. Thankfully, the fluffy bathrobe is covering enough.

“And by the end of the night you’ll have two fucked up windows,” he says, throwing a thumb back at the damage. The hinges are completely broken, letting in torrents of frigid air. “Is that so much better?”

“What the fuck you want?”

“Jesus, can’t a man get some lovin’ anymore round these parts?” he rolls his eyes, gliding a tongue over his battered lips. “Need you to work your magic, darling.”

“Get your magic at the corner,” you throw your head in the general direction of the main street, staring derisively as he once again makes himself at home in your kitchen. Rifling through cupboards and your fridge like he owns it. In his mind he does. He owns this apartment, someday he’ll own the southside gang and, more importantly, he owns you. Not in some distant, probable future, no. Here. Now.

At least in the sick, fucked up world of his.

“Why don’t you ever have anythin’ good in?” he pokes his head into the fridge, flicking a finger at the aged milk bag only to let the doors fall shut with a dragged out sigh of discontent. As you continue to stand, hovering disinterestedly in the doorway, his eyes find yours, lighting up in childish, deeply unsettling amusement.

“You jealous?”

“If someone would shoot you in the fucking head right now, I’d go to a club.”

“You like clubs that much?”

“Fucking hate them.”

Had anyone in this entire side of the city that's dying like an infected roadkill would see you badmouthing Min Yoongi, The Min Yoongi who stabbed a guy with a pair of chopsticks and ate with them not an hour later, they’d revere you as some kind of insanely hardened criminal but you knew something they did not. Oh, how he enjoyed you being harsh towards him. It drove him buck wild. He got off to your contempt and as long as he did, you were safe. He comes here to look for medicine. Here in this scornful embrace of yours as paradoxical as it sounds. In these four, discrete walls, an act of reckless bravery was actually nothing but sheer cowardice. You knew it and Yoongi knew it, hence why every time he broke into your apartment, over and over, and over, and over again, it always felt like coming home.

Or so he said.

The soles of his shoes scuff against the floor as he comes to stand before you, your nose immediately itching with the acrid smell of a cigarette smoke. He always had some accursed cheap brand that got everywhere and soaked up into fabrics like liquid. Words didn't describe how much you hated it.

“Come on,” he goads you on, leaning down to your eye level with a wicked grin. “Isn’t it a doctor's duty to treat everyone in need? Your boy's very much in need,” smugly, he spreads his arms, spinning around so you can inspect the damage. Your tongue just burns to scorn that he can’t be fixed, he can’t be treated with anything else other than death but even you wouldn’t go that far.

Tonight’s damage, however, did go quite over the lines. His face is busted, there’s a faint limp in the already off way he moves and the back of his jacket has a long slash akin that of a carving knife. Even if it didn’t cut up his spine, there’s no way the flesh underneath it laid unharmed.

“Didn’t you give that hypocritic oath?”

“It’s hippocratic,” sharply, you correct but naturally it only broadens the curve of Yoongi's smile. “And veterinarians don’t give those, you dumb shit!"

Almost instinctively, his head tips backwards. Shuddering, he groans with a deep sigh of content underneath the pale blue lights of your home.

"Fuck, how I like that temper of yours."

"I should just kill you."

But the threat is measly and Yoongi only chuckles hearing it. Pulling a chair out, he comes to sit down upon it, feigning some kind of obedience as he gazes up at you, expectantly. He’s waiting for you to fix him, for you to “kiss it all better” as he put it. As if the skin on your hands didn’t burn just by grazing him.

“Oh, come on,” he tugs at the end of your bathrobe belt, nimble fingers working their way up to the knot. You slap them away. “You lick my wounds, I lick yours.”

“I don’t have any wounds,” you grumble but for some unknown reason you give in, making the move to retrieve your first aid kit. He used it so much, by now you had to replace it thrice.

You didn’t have to, a quiet voice at the far reaches of your skull interject. You could have just run out and let it be the end of that.

“Yeah, sure,” you hear him snort under the breath.

But since you hate that voice, you don’t listen to it and mindlessly push the whole of blame onto him. He wouldn’t just shove off if you told him you had no tools. He’d just bring his own. The man did systematically break down the security on your bedroom window for the sole reason of annoying you in the middle of the night. Yoongi doesn't just leave. He’s like a ghost that way, endlessly haunting you on.

By now the routine is somewhat rehearsed, he moves his head where he must, doesn’t so much as wince when the peroxide hits the mangled flesh. As he peels of his shirt, spouting some bullshit about you being excited that ends in a sharp hiss as you clean it, your suspicions are proven correct. There is a gash all over his back. Not so deep that you couldn’t mend it but enough to leave a crusted up trail behind. You clean it nicely and add a generous amount of medical tape. Normally you’d tell someone to take it easy and not strain the place of injury but it’s Yoongi and in less than fifteen hours, he’ll be either going on another raid with his cronies or dunking some poor soul underneath the waterline. Such was his nature.

You tip his head to face the ugly light of the overhead lamp, frowning as you do. Instead of the wide, even…innocent looking eyes Yoongi gives you, you focus on the wound on the side of his head.

“A bat?” you hum and he blinks, appearing to only now remember all about it.

“Oh, yeah, a lowlife piece of shit swung at me. Real nasty.”

He laughs.

You don’t see what’s funny about that.

“It’ll need stitches,” you draw a weary sigh. Stitches were gross. No matter how many times you applied them, human or animal, there was something inherently queasy about the way a skin had to be pierced and woven together like a fleshy fabric.

“I have some vodka...?”

Already half expecting some flippant, inane quip about you wanting to get him drunk and take advantage of his poor soul, because he would be the type to make a joke like that, you’re startled to feel both of his arms wrap around your waist, cheek coming to rub against your stomach.

“Nah, this will get me through plenty.”

If he’d be a cat, he’d be purring.

You mouth your “what the fuck”, largely for a peace of mind and just do what you must, swallowing down the rising bile as the wound begins bleeding the second the needle touches the raw flesh. His arms embrace you like a vice but for all intents and purposes, he’s even smiling as you hurt him.

What a broken man he was.

“There,” some forty minutes later you slam the aid kit onto the rickety table. “You’re all better. Leave.”

“Just tossing a guy out on the street,” he begins to complain loudly and frightfully, you shush him. If the neighbours hear his voice flowing unmistakably from the confines of your apartment, they’ll oust you.

But did it really matter that much anymore?

With a devious sparkle in the eye, he tosses a glimpse towards you and not a second later, you feel a wet tongue glide over your palm.

Hastily, you pull it away.

“That’s fucking disgusting!”

“You lick mine, I lick yours,” his grin spreads in an open mouthed expression. You’d seen it once before. Only, of course, he’d slammed some dude’s head against the table then. Blood and teeth had spilt that night and only by luck did the noodles that you’d been eating just seconds prior didn’t spill back from your guts. After finishing beating the guy halfway to death, he’d found you shrinking on the dirty ground of the local uncle’s open air bistro.

“Ey, why you kneeling in the dirt for?” he cooed with such a thoroughly pleasant tone as blood pooled underneath his feet that even to this day you couldn’t help but shiver. “You’re dirtying your dress, pretty!”

He yanked you roughly up by the shoulders, fingers digging so deep they left bruises though you hadn’t felt it at the time. Your gaze sat in horrified fixation upon the dying man who whimpered softly by the broken tables. With some muted curiosity, the psychopath followed your stare.

“Ah, that shithead?” he crooned. “Are you going to be a hero and call an ambulance to help him?”

You didn’t answer, both not being able to as your breath stuttered so hard you feared you’d pass out any second and also assuming the question was rhetorical.

“You deaf or something?” he shook you rudely. “Come on, lucky, speak! Roll over!”

“I-I will,” at last you struggled out and his eyebrows inched a place higher.

“He’s a drug dealer, you know,” Yoongi's voice barely reached your ears but even so you were taken aback by its smoothness. It was almost more sickening than if he just had one of the terribly stereotypical gangster. “Has killed dozens. And you don’t want to let him die?”

“It-it’s n-not about him,” you panted, nerves going into haywire the longer the man kept lying unconscious. He will die. And soon if nothing changed. “I just don’t want to feel guilty.”

For a second Yoongi’s eyes had widened. He genuinely had not expected such an answer from you.

A moral, upright person would answer that every life was precious. That you were not a judge of whether he should live or die but the truth was far more brutal — you didn’t care about him.

You cared about yourself.

And this facade of goodness.

He tipped his head back and roared into a peel of loud laughter that startled you so horridly, you threw yourself backwards against the red bistro desk, knocking it over in the process.

“You’re a funny one,” still gasping for breath, he reached into the pocket of his blue jacket and proceeded to put a bright tangerine in your hands. Once he forcefully pried them open, that is. “Let’s see each other around, a’ight?”

Well, anyways that man did in fact live. Disfiguredly but live he did. The tangerine sat bright and sweet, shone by the dual colours of the disinterested police. Naturally there was no investigations, the witnesses mysteriously never came forth and while the uncle was displeased with his business being splattered with blood, even he didn't protest much. In the end, when in Rome do what Romans do. Conceal the murder attempt. Don't be a hero.

The tangerine had sat on your bedside table for a week, mocking you in echoes of his roughened laughter. You threw it away after that.

And word by word, it all unfolded to this. To Min Yoongi you were made of the same bone he was and you needed but a scratch. Like a lottery ticket, he’d scratch at you and you’d stop pretending you didn’t fit in this carousel of violence and greed.

And maybe he was right. Maybe with the right scratch you would fold. But a woman has the same ability to forge her path ahead as anyone else and only you decide to choose who you are even if it was an utter lie.

You rouse from your thought and Yoongi’s expression is oddly still. In moments such as these you truly doubted he was genuinely, clinically insane. In moments like these you suspected there was calculation in the madness but even if there was, no point caring about it now.

Min Yoongi was about to be exorcised.

He fishes a tangerine out of the pocket and with a deep rumble in the voice offers it to you.

"Want one?"

"I'm good."

Abruptly, Yoongi stretches, most likely immediately ripping at the wound on his back and joyfully chirps. The tangerine he chucks behind the shoulder where it carelessly rolls towards the corner of the table.

“I’m beat and your bed is so nice. I’ll stay here for a night.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Oh, calm down,” he brushes off, pushing the chair back. You liked to keep your things neat as long as he was here, Yoongi made sure to respect that. You didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“I’ll keep all the parts to my fine self. Even if I promise you’d see God if only you let me,” he winks, letting his tongue stick out. You don’t grace him with a response whilst a sheen of sweat builds at the back of your neck.

“No, really, you’re not staying here.”

As a desperate prevention measure, you place yourself firmly between Yoongi and the rest of the apartment. His eyebrows knit together while the mouth loops in a confused smirk.

“What? You can’t control yourself that hard?”

As you fail to reply, his amusement slips.

“Is there someone in your bed?” he sneers. “I’ll kill them. Don’t give a shit who they are.”

Yoongi pushes past you but there is no one either in your bed nor in your apartment. Nothing but piles upon piles of stained, brown boxes.

He comes to a sudden halt, literally stuck mid-step as his gaze flits over the impersonal appearance of your home, cheek growing increasingly terrifying.

“You’re moving,” at last, he mumbles in a numb, impersonal tone, slowly turning around. Pinned like a bug underneath a microscope, you begin to shuffle anxiously from one foot to another.

“I accepted a job offer. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

His eyes narrow dangerously.

“Tomorrow,” Yoongi echoes, voice falling terribly low. “And you didn’t think to inform me?”

You swallow and muster up the splatter of nerves still left in your body.

“Why should I?”

“Do you still have that dream of a proper clinic?” he suddenly spits. “Of all the fucking white coats and nice puppies?”

“So what if I do?” spitefully, you snap back. “Am I not allowed? Does the great Min Yoongi not allow me to dream?”

The palms previously resting by his thighs curl into fists and he gasps a deep, trembling inhale, clearly struggling to contain his explosive anger.

“In a month’s time I’ll take over the gang,” he growls, lip's twitching in annoyance. “I’ll kill that fucking old bastard with my bare hands and rule this part of the city.”

“I don’t see how that's rel—”

“I’ll give you your fucking clinic.”

Your mouth runs dry but inspecting him from head to toe you don’t find a hint of amusement on his face. The darks of his eyes almost appear…earnest. If only you would believe them.

“We’ll make it all proper, put up bunch of smiling signs and shit,” he continues on, growing only more confident with each word. “And if no one comes, there’s plenty of dogs in the gang. Jungkook alone has like 500. You can doctor them all day long.”

A long drag of silence washes over you when he stops talking and though it takes you a while you do speak and with pride, you can vouch that your voice does not shake.

“I don’t want that.”

“Fucking SHIT!” he curses sharply, taking a lunging step towards you. His teeth are gritted and his gaze is insane but the eyes…his eyes are wet.

“Are you that fucking bolstered up your fucking moral high horse? Are you that obsessed with accepting broken things that search you for a cure?!”

“I accepted you, didn’t I?”

It’s almost funny…well, no, it’s not funny at all. You’ve seen all sides of him. Min Yoongi the thief, the killer, the psychopath but never just Min Yoongi — a man. A man with a heart, a man with feelings other than hate and twisted carnal pleasure at the suffering of others. You saw it, just now in the fleeting point between one second and the next, you saw him, bare and devastated like a kitten out in the cold and then it’s gone and you’re fairly sure that because of you that part won't ever appear again

“I’m sick of men like you, no, men in general telling me what I can or cannot do,” evenly, you conclude your train of thought but it’s unclear whether Yoongi hears it at all. Both his gaze and face are blank and the fists have uncurled, his arms laying listlessly by the side. With one clean punch, you knocked the fight out of him.

No pride comes because of it.

“I’ll choose who I am and where I go and you’ll have no say in it.”

He stands utterly silent before you, the shaggy black hair falling down like a curtain — obscuring his eyes. That stupid flowery shirt flows in the slight breeze he’d created by breaking your kitchen window.

Then he smiles.

It’s empty.

And you shudder.

“You know, darling," he coos, lips forming a deceptive pout. There's not a trace of warmth on his face. "You should never show your pretty face back here ever again.”

The tone is the same as it had when you first met him on that dreadful night. Pleasant.

He stalks past you with languid, considerate steps and opens the busted window like he’s done dozens of times before, climbing over the ledge. Your heart is in your throat and only now you grasp how fast it’s racing.

He’s almost gone but because it’s him, Yoongi makes sure you hear it before he drops down in the otherwise empty dark. The faint yellow light of the streetlamps outside etch long, menacing shadows upon his face but even so you think that he’s grieving somewhere underneath his own facade.

“Though if we meet outside...I ain't making any promises.”

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms; @ahewlett

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi oneshot #bts oneshot #yoongi haegeum au #yoongi drabble #bts drabble

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raedear · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! I’m in Glasgow for a few days for work, do you have any recommendations for things to see/ places to visit/ parks/ food/ museums/ literally anything you love and think a visitor would be enjoy? Thank you!

Hey! I absolutely do:

1. If you're in the west end there's no end of stuff to do, including the botanic gardens, but Kelvingrove art museum is beautiful, sprawling, and free (and my favourite). There are also endless little shops and curios. Absolutely worth a visit, and it's surrounded by an absolutely stunning park that's particularly gorgeous in autumn. Grab your hot beverage of choice from one of the many independent coffee shops nearby and have an extended wander. If you're hungry it can be pricey, BUT there's a truly STUNNING Chinese restaurant called Noodles and Dumplings that does hand pulled noodles and I'm obsessed with it, and it's the most reasonably priced place in the west end. There's also Inn Deep, which does pub grub by the riverside, which is charming. There's also Hanoi Bike Shop, which isn't hugely authentic I don't think but is very tasty, their fish sauce in particular is homemade and lovely.

2. If you're in the Southside, absolutely visit Queen's Park, which is also gorgeous, and then head into southside proper and visit Category Is... books if you fancy a wander in a bookshop, and then there are lovely cafes on the main road nearby, as well as Lunar, which is a lovely cocktail bar. I'm a particular fan of Jeju Baked Goods, whose honey pie I've been thinking about for a full year

3. If you're in the east end, then you're more there for the food and drink than anything else. Alexandra park is lovely but quite out of the way, same with Glasgow Green. Instead maybe hit the Loveable Rogue for dinner (£10 steak frites or moules frites on a Thursday in the east end, Tuesday in the west end) because it's absolutely dynamite, and then Redmond's for cocktails, OR you can do food and drink at Redmond's if you don't fancy moving. If you're closer to the city then you could go to Brave Bakers, which is super cute

4. I know you're now expecting the north but Glasgow doesn't have a north worth talking about. Instead we have the city centre, which is an embarrassment of riches. Personally, I tend to hit restaurants and bars with my friends because I'm a hedonist. I love the Devil of Brooklyn, or Drury Street, or Katsu, or Mezcal, or catching a film at the GFT. Devil also does double duty, and during the day it's an absolutely gorgeous little cafe, if you don't drink but want to feel the vibes.

5. If you want to feel super posh on a cheaper budget, consider one of the Six by Nico offerings - there's Somewhere By Nico, which is a cocktail experience for £45-£60, there's Six By Nico, which is a tasting menu experience based around various themes, and then there's 111 by Modou, which is further afield but slightly more adventurous, and you can get a 10 course tasting menu for £30

Additionally there's the Science centre, the tenement house, the GOMA, and all the shops. There is truly so much to do. If you have preferences for alcoholic/non-alcoholic, or area, or food type, or adventure, please ask again and I'll give you a more specific recommendation 😊

#Glasgow #ask me anything my dudes

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kazutora-kurokawa · 5 months ago

Note

Hey ! It’s been a while 🥺 hope you’re doing well ! As always sending positive love, hugs & vibes your way ✨ I saw that your request are open, I was wondering if I could request :

Arranged Marriage with Kazutora/ Hakkai ( + anyone else you’d want)with reader who’s like against it and yet they’re like so patient, kind & understanding with us about it 🥺😭 like I just know kazutora and Hakkai would be so sad and pout on their little corner if we like ignored them 😭😭 making us feel bad and us giving in to them 😭

Please & thank you 🥰🤍✨

TokRev x Reader: Arranged Marriage

♡ SFW, fem reader, pure fluff, Koko being sassy, Kazutora and Hakkai very lowkey guilt tripping reader but not on purpose, also lowkey rich families au lol ♡

Characters: Kazutora, Hakkai, Kokonoi

note: hiii Lola I'm doing absolutely fantastic other than the fact I'm up at 3am, I hope you're doing great tho and I'm sending ultra positive energy right back atcha 🩷

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Kazutora

🐯 Gives you as much space as possible, even sleeps in the guestroom for the first few months of your marriage

🐯 Cooks breakfast and dinner if he can, he doesn't want you feeling obligated to do anything

"Kazutora, you know you don't have to get up early just to make breakfast. I'm perfectly cap-"

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. You're my wife now, not a damn maid...and just call me Tora."

🐯 Waits on you hand and foot, he never thought he was marriage material but being married to you is something he's definitely not taking for granted

🐯 He does so much for you that you start feeling bad for being so standoffish and end up telling him to start sleeping in the main bedroom with you

Hakkai

💙 This man is practically ready to burst into tears every time he walks by you

💙 He feels so bad for you in this situation and if he could divorce you, he'd do it just to make you happy

"Hey y/n, j-just so y'know..I didn't come up with the idea for us to be married."

"I know that Kai, it's not your fault."

"Oh thank goodness, I thought you were mad at me.."

💙 Once you're more comfortable in your relationship, he starts taking you on dates and helping you pick out outfits (Mitsuya's his stylist so you know you'll look good)

💙 You become really good friends with Yuzuha and you and her have girls nights (she spills all of Hakkai's embarrassing secrets too)

Kokonoi

💵 He's against it too and is dealing with absolutely ZERO of your bullshit

"Why did I have to get married to you of all people?!"

"Well you aren't the hottest grate on the stove yourself, you think I wanted this?"

💵 The back and forth is unrivaled, sometimes you wonder if he's trying to one up your complaints or if he's just genuinely unhappy too

💵 Eventually you both come around to the idea of being married, just not romantically

💵 You agree on a partnership made up of shopping sprees, fancy dinners, and nights filled with gossip (especially if it's about your families because it gets messy and scandalous real quick 👏🏽)

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #kazutora fluff #hakkai fluff #kokonoi fluff #kazutora x reader #hakkai x reader #kokonoi x reader #I wanna be besties with Koko so bad it's not even funny #I feel like he'd reality check tf outta me tho lmao #I want all of them carnally tho lol

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nikosasaki · 6 months ago

Text

FAULTLINES ⭑ a riverdale series

originally released in 2018, Faultlines was a spinoff from the original Riverdale series, following the story of Southsider Benny Bayford and his close friends, the junior Southside Serpents. the series was known for covering serious topics like drug addiction and abuse, but became more known for it's expansive queer representation. the series spanned four seasons and nearly 80 episodes, with the final season showing the main characters reuniting in their hometown of Riverdale after being separated during their college years.

taglist: @kendelias @chlobenet @bravelittleflower @eddiemunscns @purpleyearning @eddysocs @heavenlysurf @arrthurpendragon @nolanhollogay @stanshollaand @lovehermioneforever @raith-way @kiara-carrera @decennia @luucypevensie @waterloou @ginger-grimm @hiddenqveendom @foxesandmagic @jvstjewels @dragonsbone @endless-oc-creations @ginevrastilinski @sunlitscribe @dyhlanobrien @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @fleetwoodmcs @daughter-of-melpomene

#ocappreciation #ocapp #ochub #queerocs #fyeahriverdaleocs #ch: benny #ch: benny bayford #ch: mack #ch: mack tahau #ch: flynn #ch: flynn hamada #my edits #*faultlines #*tst #hi sorry new title for the overall series <3

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mynameismanze-blog · 9 days ago

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A/n: Hi, I just wanted to say that watching the movie The Craft is beneficial to reading this. Just so you can have an understanding and see a gorgeous face! You don't have to but if you want to you can watch it on Tubi for free. Enjoy.

Word count: 4,539

Warnings: Smut, BJ, unprotected P in V, Kissing, insults towards people, a little bit of degrading.

The Ultimate Sin

It was my first day in school. I didn't have my uniform so I stuck out like a sore thumb. St. Benedict Academy is a catholic school for boys and girls. It was that or a Southside public school and my dad wanted me to get the best education while being a good daughter.

Great.

I walk up the steps and then head inside the school. I was first greeted by two boys running around like fools and they almost made me drop my books. I scoff and then I roll my eyes.

I head to the front office to get my schedule and I ask for the layout of the school. For the most part it was confusing but I'm a smart girl, I'll know my way around eventually.

Making my way to my first class was French. I decided to take this course because I love the language. It's absolutely beautiful even though I've never been to Paris. Hopefully one day I'll go.

I sit in the back when I arrive and I take out my notebook. Bored out of my mind I just start to doodle while the teacher writes something on the chalkboard. Gently tapping my pencil and looking around. Finally my eyes land on someone and he's absolutely gorgeous. We lock eyes together and I look in his eyes for way too long. I tear my gaze away and I brush some hair back behind my ear. Hopefully he doesn't have the guts to come up to me and ask what was that about.

The lesson starts and I focus on the new French sentences I'm learning. From the corner of my eye I can see the guy I locked eyes with glance at me from time to time. He tries to make it subtle but it's like he doesn't know how? Or doesn't want to?

When class ends I pack my things up and I make my way to the main hallway. I look through my schedule and I keep walking down the hallway.

“Hey.” The handsome guy says coming from behind me. He finally caught up and smiles at me. “My name is Chris. What's your name?” I look over at him and I say, “Y/n”

Chris nods and puts a charming smile on. “So I've never seen you here before. You must be new.” Chris sees my schedule and he gently takes it. He looks through it and he raises his brows. “You're in the AP classes. You must be pretty smart huh?” Chris says with a smirk and a little bit of a flirty tone as he steps near me. “Would you like to go hang out this Saturday? We can go to the amusement park and… ride.” I shake my head and chuckle to myself.

“You're real smooth you know that?” Chris rolls his eyes and a smile forms slowly. He playfully nudges me and then he grins. “Come on. I would really look forward to take you out.” I think for a moment and I look away for a bit contemplating my decision. “Fine I'll go out with you on Saturday but if you try anything, I swear.” Chris chuckles and he steps closer to me and my breath hitches softly. He's very handsome and I would be lying if he wasn't making me weak in the knees.

“I won't I promise. Unless you want to. So I'll see you then?” I nod and he walks away but his gaze never leaves me. Brushing some hair behind my ear, and I smile at him.

Chris dissappears down the hallway and then suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it's a short girl with a mean mug look. “Hi?” I say confused. “Don't do it.”

“What?” I say confused and I furrow my brows.

“Dont go out with Chris.” The girl was wearing all black except her button up shirt. I raise a brow at her and I look at the both of her friends. “I'm Bonnie, this is Nancy and Rochelle. Chris used to date Nancy.”

Nancy steps forward and she's face to face with me. “He's a jerk. Trust me.” I shift my gaze to Chris, he's running along the field and he catches the football effortlessly. He noticed me and then he flashes a wink my way. The wink sends a shiver down my spine and I exhale heavily. Looking away Nancy meets my gaze and she says “Let's go shopping.”

I don't know what made me want to but I was pulled to go with them. They seemed harmless and honestly I didn't have any friends. Pitiful, I know but it was the truth. We arrive to the metaphysical store and when I step inside I was greeted with incense that filled the air. To the right was a woman draped in long and baggy two piece. She smiles at me while doing candle magic.

I look around and there's white sage, crystals and a few decks of oracle cards. The place was mainly filled with books on invoking the spirit or how to do witchcraft. I normally wasn't into all of this. Well more like I don't know how to do it.

After the girls did their five finger discount I decided to head to the books area. They told me they would be waiting outside because Nancy wanted to smoke a cigarette. I nod gently towards them and look through the books. I was looking for something particular. Yes! I found it.

I grab the book and I look through the index of it.

Love spell page number 111.

Flipping through the page I read it and it's a seance that I need to have. I read the details and the store owner comes up to me. “Did you need help with a spell?” I quickly close the book and I meet her gaze. “Uhh. How much is this book? I want to buy it.” The store owner looks at me with a raised brow. “Fifteen dollars.” I politely hand her the money, she gives me my change then I make my way to the front of the store.

“A spell book huh? What spells are you thinking about doing?” Bonnie asks me, while she takes a peek at the book. I stammer at first. “I'm not sure if I want to say.” The girls surround me and then finally after a few awkward seconds Nancy pipes up. “You're thinking about doing a love spell huh?” I step away and I lean against the wall. Exhaling heavily, my mind goes to Chris and I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “I'm not even sure I want to do that. Okay? I just want to get to know him and hopefully he can change or maybe I can change him.”

Nancy steps forward and she maintains eye contact with me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I didn't know how to answer that. Deciding to see them another time and I wanted to get some time to myself.

2 days pass

I was on a rooftop with Chris we hung out after school. Laughing and sharing childhood stories together. I playfully nudge Chris with my shoulder, then I look down at my hands that are resting on my lap.

“You know, you're very beautiful. How come you don't have a boyfriend?”

I snicker at the question and I smile while shaking my head. “That's a very upfront question, I'll give you that but why are you asking?” My eyes meet with his and there's a sparkle in them. Something I can't quite place but I've definitely seen before at least once. “Well I think a beautiful girl like you deserves someone great and definitely charming. I think that I could be the guy for you.” Chris smiles and he gently places his hand on top of mine. His thumb runs circles on it and Chris slowly leans in.

Our lips are millimeters away from each other and I look in his eyes once again. “I can get lost in those eyes of yours Chris.” He smiles lightly and Chris gently places his soft lips on mine. As we kiss gently and softly I can feel my cheeks flush and then there were footsteps behind us.

“See you two love birds later!” Chris’ friend says with a smirk. I gently pull away and I look down a little caught off gaurd. Chris turns to me and he pushes some hair behind my ear. “Do you want to get out of here? I promise that I'll try to be good.” I look at him skeptical and he smirks a little, he tries to hide it but he's failing.

“I don't know Chris…” I say while fidgeting with my thumbnail and I look at him. “Come on. The most we'll do is makeout. I promise. I really like you and you're such a good kisser.” Chris steps close to me and he gets between my legs as they dangle over the concrete wall. He gently parts them and he cups my face with his hand and the other is placed on my knee. Chris gently cocks his head to his left and looks down at me while towering over me.

“What do you say gorgeous?”

With a compliment like that I mentally and quickly gave in. My breathing got shallow and he noticed my body language. I didn't have to say yes, he knew I wanted to go somewhere and car wash his mouth. I just couldn't verbally say it. Instead I just nod slowly. Chris smirks and he takes my hand, we go down the building and then we go to his car.

After a few minutes of driving around we come to a secluded dead end. Chris parks his car and he looks over me while turning it off. He chewed a piece of gum while we were looking for a private place. Chris takes out the gum and I throws it away. He gently cups my cheek and then starts to kiss me gently. His tongue slips in my mouth skillfully and effortlessly. Chris pulls me in by gently grabbing the back of my neck. A few more seconds pass and he pulls away.

“I want to go back here so we can face each other.” Chris motions to his back seat. I glare at him annoyed and skeptical, I contemplate for a moment. “We'll just kiss I promise.” Nodding gently and I point in his face. “No funny stuff.”

Chris and I get in the back of his car and it's surprisingly clean. He takes off his jacket and then climbs in the back. Chris immediately kisses me passionately and hungrily. Our eyes were both closed and his hand was gently placed on my inner thigh. I moan into the kiss and I run my fingers through his hair. Pulling away I look in Chris’ eyes I confess.

“I love you.”

My eyes widen and I just realized what I said out loud. I swallow thickly and I look away embarrassed. “You do huh?” Chris says with a smile. He kisses my collarbone and then pecks my neck. “Would you worship me like a god baby?” Breathlessly I say, “How?”

“Let me show how you can baby.” His gaze was full of desire and longing. The adrenaline and rush was running through me like no tomorrow. I nod quickly and I lick my lips. Chris kisses me again but this time was messily, I wrap my arms around his neck. He gently lays me down and starts to unbutton his pants. “Chris do you have protection?” I ask cautiously while I prop myself with one elbow. “I might have one.” He says looking through the middle console and then checking all of his pockets. Chris seems to be a little bit frustrated and then he looks at me. “I don't have one.”

My stomach flutters and I bite the inside my lip. “Umm.” Was all I could manage to get out because I was nervous about the next move or thing. “I can pull out.” Chris says eagerly like it was an answer to a question. “Chris I don't think that's-”

“Please y/n. Trust me okay? I know that's asking for a lot but trust me I'm not ready to have a kid. I also want to feel you as well.” Chris’ confession has me contemplating and weighing the pros and cons of this situation. With a sigh I nod gently. “If you come in me Chris. I swear.” He shakes his head quickly. “I promise.”

Chris positioned himself between me and he looks into my eyes. He lifts my skirt and then he sees my black lacy panties. With a smirk he hooks his fingers in them and takes them off in one swish motion. “You were wearing these all day?” I nod my head slowly and exhale deeply. “Such a naughty girl. I like that. Let's see how wet you are.” Chris looks down and he sees that my folds are slick and soaked in my wetness. “Oh my god baby. You are so wet for me, I absolutely love it. Ready baby?” He asks in a low but husky voice. “Yes.” I say nervously.

He softly rubs my legs and then Chris slowly inserts his length into my wet folds slowly. I exhale slowly and my walls expand just a little. “Oh baby. Fuck you're so wet for me.” Chris says bottoming out in me slowly, he looks down at the sight and then he starts to move his hips slowly.

He looks up and into my eyes, “God you feel so damn good baby.” I moan softly and I gently wrap my legs around his waist. Chris chuckles and his pace is steady, “You know baby, doing this is only going to make me want to come inside you.” Chris grunts and then moans while picking up the pace. I quickly take my legs off his waist and then he picks up one of my legs and holds it underneath while still thrusting in me.

“Rub your clit baby. Let me see you lose control for me.” I start to rub my clit in small and short circles. He looks down and then smirks, “Faster baby. Don't hold back.” He says and then right after he sucks in air through his teeth and his jaw clenched. Chris thrusts harder and faster into me. Our skin slaping together and moans fill the car. Rubbing my clit faster and I moan loudly while locking into his eyes. “Chris.” I moan softly and in a needy tone. “Oh fuck yeah baby. Moan my fucking name again.” Chris holds my hips in place with a firm grip and he starts to pound in me hard. “Chris! Fuck you feel so good daddy.”

“Y/n I'm coming baby!” Chris pulls out and he starts to stroke his length hard and fast. After a few strokes he comes on my stomach and paints his seed like abstract art. I look in his eyes and he chuckles lazily with half lidded eyes. “Told you I wouldn't come in you.” I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Chris reaches in his duffle bag behind the driver seat floor and he takes out a small towel. “I don't have much but this should take the come off.” He hands me the towel and when my hand touched it the towel was pretty damp. I wipe off the come on my stomach and I make sure I get every drop.

After a few minutes Chris looks at me after putting the towel in his duffle bag. “I know you didn't come so I'm going to help you.” Chris moves the passenger seat forward and he gets on his knees. I was laying down beind the drivers seat but my feet were dangling off towards behind the passenger seat.

He takes my left leg and opens it wide, Chris looks at me with soft eyes and shoots me a wink. Licking his lips slowly he moves his head forward and starts to kiss my inner thigh. He works his way up to my folds and then licks my slit with no hesitation. I moan softly and I bite my bottom lip to surpress the moan for a bit. Chris pulls my folds back with both hands and he starts to suck and kiss my clit. My mouth opens and I let out a satisfied moan. I run my fingers through his hair and Chris moans. His moan made me shiver and I move my hips slowly towards him.

Chris holds my hips in place and he doubles his efforts. His tongue moving even faster and his moans are more frequent. “Chris you're so good at this.” I feel him grin against my skin and he quickly licks two fingers and slowly puts them inside me. I was taken by surprise with that move and I grip the seat underneath me. Finally he pulls away and his chin was glistening with spit. He pumps the two fingers in and out of me in a hook motion. Hitting my spot and he's smirking watching me lose control.

“You look good from this angle baby. Are you daddy's little slut?” Chris licks his bottom lip and his teeth push down on his tongue. I was surprised with the question but I quickly nod and went along with it. He smirks and then his mouth goes back to my clit. This time his mouth was moving more skillfully. It was like this was going to be his last meal for a while. His gaze never left me even when he was going back to doubling his efforts.

Chris’ efforts were animalistic like, I could feel my legs start to shake. Once again he smiles and he starts to moan softly while his fingers were pumping in and out of me. “I'm coming baby.” My eyes roll back and I grip his hair then I push his face more in. Chris takes this opportunity to move his head side to side uncontrollably but still maintaining to hit my clit with his tongue. I give him my ‘o face’ and I moan loudly while my back was arching off the back seat. I wrap my legs around his head and he holds my thighs. He's laughing lightly while he's watching my orgasm wash over me.

A few more seconds later and I was spent. Chris pulls away from me and he smiles at my satisfaction. “It was that incredible huh?” He asks while putting on his boxers. I smile lazily and I look around for my panties. “Shut up.” I smile and snicker while putting my panties on. “Just admit it. You like when I eat you out.” He says with a cocky voice while sliding on his pants. “I do but daddy's little slut caught me off gaurd. I liked it though.” When Chris was done getting dressed he sit next to me and he grabs my chin gently. He turns me so I'm looking up at him. “Just liked it?” He asks with curiosity and a slight squint in his eye. I smile mischievously at him. “Alright fine, I loved it. I've never had someone eat me out before.”

“I was your first for that?” He asks with raised brows and a slight surprised expression. I nod gently. “You should've told me something. I would've went all out.” I raise a brow at him and my mouth opens with a little bit of a surprise. “You can do better than what you just did?” He smiles and nods gently. There was a flutter between my legs and the press together of the many possibilities of what he could be talking about.

The next day

I make my way through the hallway with Chris and everything was great. Of course we couldn't touch during school so I didn't notice if he was irritable or something.

That wasn't until I had lab, a few girls over to my right were snickering while looking my way. Nancy, Bonnie and Rochelle approached me. I raise a brow, “Whats up?”

“You tell me y/n. Did you enjoy it?”

I snicker nervously and I shake my head. There was a look of surprise in my eye but I didn't want to show it.

Please tell me he didn't…

“What are you talking about?” I ask cautiously and I play dumb a bit, hoping she's not talking about what I think she's talking about. Nancy laughs a little but then leans forward. “I'm talk about when you were Chris’ little slut.” My eyes widen and I'm taken back by the word for word confession. I shake my head, “How did you?” I say nervously and out of breath. I felt like passing out on the floor. There was no way Chris could've said something right? “I told you he was a jerk. What are you going to do about it? He deserves to pay y/n.”

After class I made my way to Chris and I stepped in front of him. “I need to talk to you Chris.” He smirks and then it turns into a grin. Just when I was going to demand his little friend gets in the way and says I need to schedule an appointment to talk to Chris. “I don't need to schedule an appointment for my fist to meet your face. Move the fuck out the way asshole.” I move his little sorry ass friend to the side and I step close to Chris. “Did you tell people?” Chris sighs and then closes his locker, he crossed his arms and looks at me. His gaze was cold and different than the loving and sweet Chris I knew. “Listen it was fun. Okay? You're definitely my top three.” I scoff and my jaw drops as he walks away.

That dude is going to fucking pay.

I have one class with the girls, wanting to quickly get this over with I asked them if they wanted to help me with the love spell. In return I'll help with calling the corners and invoking the spirit. It seemed fair because a love spell is definitely not easy to master or perform.

We all meet in my room and I had the nessesary items to perform the spell. I won't lie I'm a little on edge simply because I normally don't do things like this but I wanted Chris to be mine and only mine. I can't stand the thought of him with another girl or even think of someone else. This might bite me in the ass someday but I know I want Chris. “Jesus girl, no offense but you can literally have anyone. Why would you want this asshole?!” I sigh but it's more like a longing sigh. “I just– I don't know. He's great when he's not a complete asshole. I just don't get why he treats women like that.”

“He was probably never told no as a kid by his mom so now he expects every girl to obey or say yes? That's my theory.” Bonnie says. The love spell was done and I exhale shakily. I pick up the picture of Chris and I gently kiss it. So I wont get lipstick on it a lot.

The next day

I'm walking down the hallway and I arrive at my locker. I open it and take out my books for my class. “Hey y/n.” Chris looks at me and his eyes flicker to my lips when I look over. “Hey Chris.” I say confused and he notices. “Umm am I making you uncomfortable?” My mouth opens and I look around to see if this was a set up or something. “I don't think so. Did you need something?” I close my locker and lean against it. “Well I actually wanted to talk to you. Listen I know you hate me probably but I just wanted to tell you that I can't stop thinking about you.” My heart skipped a beat and the spell was already working, it wasn't even a full 24 hours.

“Chris are you saying-”

“Yes y/n. I know what I said yesterday was such a asshole thing to say but I woke up today and I couldn't wait to see you.” Chris steps forward and he looks at me with a sadden expression. “I just want to be with you y/n. Only you baby. There's no room for anyone else.”

I look in his eyes and there's no hint of deceit in them. Quickly grabbing his hand, we walk down the hallway together. I check if the coast is clear and we go in the girls restroom together. Disgusting I know but I wanted him.

Locking the door to the private bathroom that rarely gets used because no one even notices it too much. I lead Chris to the tiled wall and I make him lean against it. Then I start to unbutton his pants. “Y/n what are you doing? What if we get caught?” Chris says while stopping me from proceeding, he looks over at the door. “The door is locked and just make sure not to moan too loudly.” Chris is still distracted with the door and his hands unconsciously drop to his side. “I just feel like I won't be able to contain my moans y/n.” Chris says still distracted by the door. In a swift motion I grab his base and I quickly put him in my mouth.

“Oh fuck y/n.” Chris looks down at me and he runs his fingers through my hair. He doesn't guide me but he's a moaning mess. Cursing and then moaning my name constantly. “Y/n baby you're so fucking sexy. I'm so crazy about you baby.” I smile at the praise and I move my head faster. Chris closes his eyes and tilts his head back. His hips move against me a little and I moan softly, sending vibrations to his cock. Licking his lips and holding my head in place, Chris thrusts in my mouth completely taking over. “I'm going to come. Stay put baby.”

I do as he says and I close my eyes. “You're such a good girl, baby. Daddy's coming.” Chris takes his wet cock out of my mouth and he strokes hard. He cups my chin then tilts my head up towards him. He comes first on my tongue and then he shoots the rest of his thick load on my face. His come lands on my cheek and a little on my eye. I didn't mind, in fact I loved that he made a mess on my face.

“Wow y/n. I made a huge mess.” I close my mouth and I swallow his come. His breath hitches at the sight and I open my other eye to look up at him. “Fuck that is hot. I love you y/n.” Chris says breathlessly and amazed at the sight that just happened.

#skeet ulrich #skeet ulrich 90s #smutty fanfiction #the craft #chrishooker #billy loomis #smut #skeet ulrich x reader #x reader

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aussie-wbb · 1 month ago

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oops an anon asked for my WNBL expectations for this season, and I accidentally posted it too early, deleted it, and then found out that deletes the ask

Adelaide - basically have the same roster, hopefully they'll have a healthy Steph Talbot for the whole season. they've also got Isobel Borlase coming off of her first Olympics. Prediction: middle 3

Bendigo - kinda stacked tbh, they gained Sami and Marianna Tolo, so with Kelsey Griffin and Kelly Wilson they have a ton of experience. Success will depend on how quickly they learn to play together, and fitness levels. Prediction: top 2

Canberra - somewhat new roster? they've kept Jade and Nicole Munger, but Nyadiew, Chantel Horvat and Charli Collier are all new. they've got the third #1 WNBA draft pick (after LJ and Jackie Young) in Collier. Prediction: middle 3

Geelong - the newest kids on the block! Jaz Shelley leads the team in her first season since college, and is joined by Keely Froling from Sydney and Gemma Potter from Canberra. Brand new roster, not expecting a lot. Prediction: bottom 3

Perth - looking for revenge after losing last season's championship. Retained a lot of their main roster, added Ally Wilson, lost Aari McDonald. Anneli Maley, Ally Wilson and Amy Atwell are also all coming off of their first Olympics. Prediction: top 2.

Southside - reigning champs, but have a new head coach and have lost some key pieces (LJ, Cedes, Leilani, Nyadiew), but they also gained Alice Kunek. Prediction: middle 3

Sydney - last minute lost a couple of key players (Lauren Nicholson is pregnant, Jacy Sheldon won't be coming over). Still got Cayla, Mikaela and Shaneice, but the rest of the team is pretty new. Prediction: bottom 3

Townsville - basically lost everyone but Courtney Woods? But also gained Lauren Mansfield, Alex Fowler, Alicia Froling. Mostly new roster, not expecting much. Prediction: bottom 3

Sooo basically the tiers are:

top 2 - bendigo, perth

middle 3 - adelaide, canberra, southside

bottom 3 - geelong, sydney, townsville

#wnbl

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annisefreya · 3 months ago

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I've been writing my stupid crossover fic and thinking a lot about parallels between Griddlehark and Gallavich, but I've held off posting about it because it's niche, but if I can't go feral about my hyperfixations on Tumblr, there's no point to anything.

(also I wasn't sure whether to post it on main or my Gallavich side blog, so in the spirit of "fuck it" I'm posting here and I'll reblog)

Anyway...

So, like with my I Want the Gun Back Harrow fic, I'm writing a Gideon the Ninth scene with Ian and Mickey as cavalier and necromancer.

The parallels between Gideon and Ian were pretty easy to tease out when I stopped giggling at myself. They are both fierce and goofy. They both make puns and have difficulty playing it cool. They are both absolutely convinced of their own hotness even though they're not socially overconfident. Both struggle to believe they're worthy of love. They both want to run away to join the army, even if they're running from different things.

Mickey and Harrow are, on the surface, a lot more different. They're both verbally abrasive, yes, but Harrow is academic and eloquent... Both things I don't think many would accuse Mickey of. Mickey is physically tough and quick with his fists. Harrow has the constitution and figure of a wet noodle. But I guess she's just as likely to lash out, just with skeletons.

Both have complex relationships with their parents and a lot of trauma, but when it comes to media that I love, that applies to almost all my favourite characters.

But when you get down to it, one really important thing that Mickey and Harrow have in common is that they are Survivors. Moreso even than Ian or Gideon. They do what they need to to survive their circumstances.

This makes them appear like very different people, because they are in radically different environments.

Harrow needs to be the best necromancer ever, which requires raw power, yes, but also intense study and academic determination.

Mickey needs to survive his dad. He needs to hide parts of himself and be tough, smart with money. He needs to be violent and angry because it's expected. It will keep him safe.

Harrow implies she wants to survive to justify the circumstances of her birth, or to see if the Body wakes, but that's not all of it. Plenty of people would have followed Priamhark and Pelleamena because it's too much and she was a fucking pre-teen who had the knowledge and expectations of an adult thrust on her.

So she's a survivor. If she was growing up with a homophobic asshole Dad on the Southside of Chicago... She would do what she needed to. Maybe she'd be more like Mandy because of gendered expectations. But I reckon she'd be like Mickey because she's a lesbian and I definitely don't see any version of Harrow who is still recognisably Harrow following Mandy's path wrt relationships; Another way she's like Mickey is in the "untempered devotion to her ridiculous redhead". I can see a Harrow that gets involved with the family business in a way Mandy doesn't, because it would be a way of making herself useful and staying safe.

And Mickey? He dropped out of school... But he was in an environment where that was expected. We don't know how good he might have been at school with parents who encouraged him, or teachers who didn't see him as a burden and pile their prejudices on him as a Milkovich. You can bet they didn't give him time. I've seen a lot of people headcanon Mickey as dyslexic, and I can see that... Struggling teen drops out of shitty school because they're never getting the help they need is all too common a story.

So put him on the Ninth. Put him in a situation where that academic excellence is not only encouraged but expected and necessary for his survival? I don't think he'd be exactly like Harrow. I don't see him memorising and reciting Ortus' poetry, for example. But he would absolutely study necromancy until he was the best at it. He wouldn't do it exactly the way Harrow does... Maybe his approach would be more instinctive than scientifically rigorous. But he would do it. (And he would absolutely learn to use rigor when required).

So after spending way too long thinking about it, I have reconciled my necromancer Mickey with both canon Mickey and with Harrow.

The only issue I have is that I can't imagine a version of Mickey where Terry has already died and he isn't boning Ian (pun intended) within about six minutes of them both hitting puberty.

I've found a way around this in my fic (I'm making Terry into Crux rather than Priamhark). But they would totally bang in the pool scene regardless. Even if I could come up with a reasonable person to put as The Body (like, who the fuck? There is no one else for Mickey. For hilarity, maybe it's Byron).

Anyway. I'm done for now.

*put the blorbos back in my pocket*

*holds them tight*

#another issue I have is reconciling all Mickey's facial ticks with wearing face paint #locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #shameless #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #I'm also a little bit nervous about mixing bone lesbian Tumblr with gallavich tumblr #but i would recommend the locked tomb to anyone #and shameless to almost no one #but if you are curious make sure to watch safe and check online if you have any triggers because it hits nearly all of them

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