#mask of the red death part 1

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

lol

Remember. Remember the time The Flash season 9 somehow fucked up WHUMP?

But not just that no no— they fucked up BARRY WHUMP

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

THIS

Also can we talk about the fact that he not only JOINED Red Death, but didn’t give a single shit when Barry was kidnapped and tortured (mild electrocution is still torture imo) until the very last minute when he’s kind of like ‘oh shit I’m on the bad guy team’

And you’re telling me we’re supposed to like this guy?!

I've just realized something:

Mark Blaine is like Ralph Dibny - he's supposed to be a jerk that grows into Team Flash and becomes a hero.

But Chillblaine wishes he had the character development Elongated Man got. Say what you will about Ralph Dibny - as much as you wanted to punch him in the face in S4, at least he got his shit together in later seasons. His more jerkish traits were toned down, he himself got a lot of nice and funny scenes with various members of Team Flash (for example - he helped Killer Frost experience new things or talked with Joe about Barry's fate in Crisis on the Infinite Earths). Even in S4 his constant circle of trying to be better hero, getting discouraged, getting a pep talk from Team Flash, rince and repeat, was something. At least there was some effort put into his change.

Meanwhile with Chillblaine we are to assume that he is a good guy now, because of his relationship with Frost. We don't see how he went from being a supervillain to being a superhero. He just is. Deal with it. He doesn't evene interact much with other members of Team Flash, so when he pours his heart out and says that he loves Barry so much because he gave him "countless second chances" it just rings hollow. Because his relationship with Barry is virtually non-existant.

[kitkatt0430]

Time for another Flash episode. And the jerky camera work is not off to a good start.

So Blaine is now playing mechanical engineer for Red Death and he still hasn't gotten anything out of this relationship.

"A superstitious and cowardly lot" Red Death says of criminals. As if she is not one herself.

I think Barry & Iris are getting a little too caught up in the 'avatar of the negative speed force' thing. The Speed Force has lots of speedsters and Nora 1.0 proved that more than one speedster can use the negative speed force at a time... sometimes a speedster is just... angry. (Of all the retcons, what they've done with the Negative Speed Force and the other negative Forces I like the least. The N!SF was originally just something Eobard made himself. Which was a big deal when it inspired Barry and Cisco to attempt the same thing... and foreshadowed that the ASF would have bad side effects. It's now it's own living thing? That's... whatever, it never totally made sense that the N!SF survived the Eobard being erased from the timeline anyway.)

Oh, hey, Jenna gets to be a person again. The show has remembered this child exists again!!! Now if only her parents would do the sensible thing and move the hell out of Central City. I would hope that they'd sell the house to Barry and Iris, though. It's a gorgeous house, been in the family for two generations now. It should stay in the family.

I'm proud of the Central City citizens who realize red lightning is bad news and got the heck out of dodge when Red Death showed up. Could have done with less screaming, but they have learned to book it when a bad speedster shows up.

Oh, it's Roy Bivolo! Haven't seen him since S1. I'm so glad to see him. And he's learned new tricks and emotions to mess with. Also... he kinda deserves a little vengeance after the pipeline thing in S1.

Blaine unsurprisingly protects Barry's identity from the last people in the city who don't know the Flash's real name. Because of course Blaine has to be wrestling with his conscience and it's leading up to some heel face turn that I honestly don't care about because at this point he's used up his chances to be even remotely sympathetic.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Khione continues to be nature girl and inspires Allegra and Chester to get in touch with their new Rogue friends using a metaphor about static electricity. But if talking in metaphor is getting a bit annoying at this point since that's all she does. If that's her super power - making nature based metaphors - then it kinda sucks. I'm honestly not seeing why the show writers killed Caitlin off if this is the best they can manage with Khione.

But hey, looks like we're getting Hartley, Goldface, and Jaco back after all. Fun times. :D

Red Death torturing Barry for the funsies. While Barry makes speeches. Fun times.

Oooh, is that the real Ryan? Does this mean that I was right about the multiverse finally getting reintroduced??? Then again she does have the skunk stripe too, but maybe they just decided her hair is styled that way now. Either way, Ryan and Iris getting a chance to bond is something I've been wanting since it was announced Ryan would be in this season.

Still... something about Ryan seems off... and that skunk stripe. I don't think I trust this is the real Ryan.

So I feel like they wouldn't have needed the Rogues if they still had Cisco. Chester just... is not as good under pressure as Cisco was. Though Hartley showing up and being all smug about his toys and then... his speedster tracker doesn't work. *snicker*

Red Death showing off fancy new tricks is cool and convinces me that the Ryan with Iris isn't the real Ryan. But I'm also pretty sure Iris suspects something is off too, so hopefully I'll be proven right about that.

So Red Death 'built their own speed' so they made an ASF of their own. Which is what the Negative SF started off as...

Woohoo, Iris suspects Ryan's a fake. Go Iris. She's just so awesome.

'Another timeline'. Let's just call it the multiverse mmkay?

Red Death stopping thought crime and presumably killing criminals instead of catching them. No wonder the alt timeline's Flash fought her. There are lines she shouldn't have crossed and it sounds like she crossed them. And... if she needs this Iris to talk to that other Barry... did Ryan kill her 'best friend'?

Barry trying to talk Blaine around. *flat tone* yay. Who would have seen that coming?

Using Frost as an example of Barry giving second chances isn't a bad decision, but oh wow was the situation so different there. Frost was struggling to find herself as a person, afraid of Caitlin who was suppressing her, and everyone assumed she'd be evil before she ever had a chance to make her own choices. It was less 'giving her a second chance' and more 'giving her that first chance they'd failed to the first time around'.

I know. I'm a Frost apologist. *sigh* But seriously, I see people in the fandom getting upset over Frost never apologizing herself and being easily forgiven but first? Practically no one apologizes on this show and everyone's easily forgiven. And second? No one gave Frost a chance to be anything but evil in S3. None of them. Especially Caitlin. Even Barry 'reaching out' in the pipeline was him urging Caitlin to take control and Caitlin to be a good person.

Anyway, back to Iris and Ryan and the more interesting conversation... I gosh, I was right. Red Death killed her reality's Iris West. Whoops. Maybe you shouldn't have been trying to kill your besty's husband and you wouldn't have killed Iris instead, Ryan.

Iris pointing out the flaws in Ryan's story is great. But sadly interrupted by the storm knocking out my power for several seconds. So time to save a draft and come back later.

Okay, storm has calmed down and the worst has moved past my area. I still have power so I'm gonna finish this episode.

Back to Iris calling out Ryan for lying and twisting the truth.

So the Red Death's armor coming to her is a neat sequence but a little... uncanny valley at points?

I do like Cecile's telekinesis. But Joe is right about them needing to move.

And Hartley's machine works! Also Blaine double crosses Red Death and proves to be a better no-power fighter than Barry is. I will give him that much.

Oh! did Allegra pull Nash's teleporter out of storage?

I was hoping for some more Rogues vs Rogues fighting. But i guess next episode? I wonder if Blaine's actually dead. I mean. I'd like to be done with his character but it's a comic based super hero show and i don't believe a character is dead if I don't see the dead body. And even then, how many times has Sara been dead?

And what was the point of the Joe wanting to move plot if there's no pay off? Because him deciding to stay is just a return to form after not really having anything of substance happen. Like, seriously, what was the point of that subplot?

And Red Death declares war in the end. But I gotta wonder. What's been happening with the real Ryan? Has she been dumped into the Red Death's reality? (timeline? Whatever.) I really hope we get to see her next episode to know she's okay.

Okays, so final thoughts on the episode was, not nearly enough time with the Team Flash ally Rogues, way too much time spent on subplots that go nowhere (Joe wanting to move, the Allegra/Chester nonsense, Khione rambling about nature), and I guess parallel timelines are the new multiverse?

I do think that Khione is correct in real world terms about every life being precious and it being important to try to save lives when you can. But I also think Hartley probably made the right call getting them the hell out of Dodge with Nash's teleporter. Even at Blaine's expense. They do Blaine no good if they die too. No one deserves to die a terrible death, but needlessly sacrificing yourself to save someone else's life when doing so won't actually achieve that goal? No one can save everyone. Not even heroes.

Sometimes Barry has to be dragged, kicking and screaming, away from the brink of martyring himself. This was probably one of those times.

It seems like, as has become a hallmark of the show in recent seasons, the pacing of the various plots is all over the place in a very bad way. Dragging out plots that should have been short or cut altogether and then rushing the main plot as a result. So I'm sure there will be more of that in the next episode.

Speaking of which, based on the trailer it looks like Red Death will be taking a play out of Zoom's book next and going after the CCPD. And of course Barry's speed has been drained - again. Bringing in Red Death was a really cool idea for the final season but... once again... the Flash seems to be suffering from poor execution of good ideas. It's not as bad as last season - at least Red Death has a single plan and motivation instead of three conflicting plans that make zero sense when executed simultaneously - but that just puts it on par with season 7 and I wasn't exactly impressed with that one.

If the team ups with Hartley end with the Red Death: Rogue War plot then I honestly don't know if I'll be sticking it out. I mean... I am interested in the return of Jay Garrick and Bloodwork coming back for round two - since Bloodwork's time as the show's main villain was probably the last time the show had good pacing and had subplots that were relevant to the main plot and interconnected everything really neatly - but there's a difference between interested and excited and I'm just... never excited about the show anymore.

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

Thinking about the horrible missed whumpertunity of Flash 9x4🥲

[softfem-dom]

the four times they asked about his sidekick, and the one time he realized why. (pt.1)

worst!logan + d&w!deadpool x suicidal!reader

a/n : okay this is sad and emotion-driven asf, so if you're sensitive to suicide mentions or emotional trumoil and problems of self-worth please do not continue reading this. Also warning for suicide description for the other universes' sidekicks. first part out of five!

wc : 2k

TW FOR SUICIDE , TW FOR DEPRESSION , SOFT!WADE , SOFT!WORST!LOGAN , WADE BEING UNABLE TO LOOK AFTER A KID , HEAVY/MULTIPLE BATMAN AND JASON TODD REFERENCES , DEADPOOL VARIANTS FUSSING OVER READER. soft!worst logan . overprotective!deadpool . only-deadpool-still-with-sidekick!wade wilson

Think of Batman and Robin.

Yup. Now turn and twist it around some more and make it.. more chaotic, more unhinged. More morally questionable.

And then think of Deadpool. The merc with a mouth. The dude that chose a red suit just so he didn't have to bother about the red stains.

And then add up a teenager to the recipe. As chaotic as the man, maybe a bit naïver. And you've got Deadpool and his sidekick.

Because if all cool superheros had sidekicks, then Deadpool —albeit while not actively being a superhero. Had to have one too, didn't he?

And that's how you had ended up roped into all of his unethical adventures, killing off the bad guys that had the highest price above their head and helping Deadpool run the official Spideypool fanwebsite.

But, despite how many masks you put on, despite how many bad guys you killed, despite how many times you had saved someone. You were still just you.

A teenager. A teenager paired up with an older, unhinged, mercenary that ran his mouth way too much and that got you into way too much trouble.

A teenager paired up with an irresponsible adult without emotional responsability was the fucking equivalent of throwing a trained lab mouse inside the first maze that didn't have an exist.

Wade cared about you. Yeah, you knew that. But the problem was that you were a teenager and teenagers needed a certain amount of care to grow healthyly.

Because physically you were great, with how much running around and being-at-the-verge-of-death you did. But mentally? God, then you were the messiest mess in the planet.

Spending so much time with someone that had so many intrusive thoughts, that spilled his thoughts without filter, had rubbed off on you.

And sometimes you scared yourself when sudden thoughts popped up in your mind. Like the sudden pull in your legs anytime you walked near the edge of a roof, the "jump!" that flashed across your head. Or the way you wondered, asked yourself, what it would feel to be stabbed when you were cleaning Deadpool's katanas. Or the way you started to throw yourself at danger's way just for the thrill of it. And if you died, well, there went nothing.

It was wrong. It was bad. And it was a totally unhealthy and toxic vice. You knew you were self-destructive.

But you didn't know how to do doing anything about it.

You see, if Deadpool wasn't so reckless and careless maybe you would've told him. But since he did it, you grew into your late teens thinking it was okay.

,,

Lately, your thoughts had grew more dangerous. More specific. And you were starting to get scared of yourself. In movies, that was how villians started —with destructive thoughts. And you didn't want to become a villian.

What would Wade think of you? He'd be disappointed in you, hate your guts, despise you.

So your mind jumped to the quickest—and most self-destructive—conclussion. Offing yourself before that happened.

And you had nearly 10 pages of your pink diary written with ways of carrying on with that plan. Glitter gel pen words scribbled about the knifes in the house—their lengths and sharpness—, about the belts stacked away in Wade's closet, about the height of the fall from the balcony to the ground. You had everything planned.

And Wade hadn't caught onto anything of it, except for the fact you seemed more twitchy and on edge than usual. He tied it to the usual teenage anxiousness that came with your age.

He didn't know this was the last mission he was going to have you in.

,,

He had just brought you along on this 'adventure' just like he had did with all of the ones before, except in this one there was another.. —reluctant—companion.

Logan Howlett. The Wolverine.

And not the dead hero that Wade had unburied a few days before. No. This one was the worst variant of Wolverine in the whole multiverse, the one from the timeline where he killed all of the X-Men.

And that Howlett was smelling something coming.

He could smell the irony scent of blood whafting off of you, a bitter scent choking his airways. Your scent was way too bitter for how cheerful you were, except maybe you weren't.

This Logan had only barely known you for two days, but if something were to happen to you he'd kill the responsible, then find a way to kill the mercenary and then find a way to kill himself too.

But, first. Stop, pause, rewind. How this did even start?

,,

You groaned as you helped Wade drag the uncounscious body of the drunk Wolverine you had found in a random timeline —the only one in which the dude hadn't tried to kill you at first sight. Entering through the door-shaped orange portal to the TVA room.

"one anchor being coming right up!" Wade's voice rang through the air before the merc, fully dressed in his suit, had crossed the portal.

You let out a startled squeak when the antihero pretty much threw the uncounscious body of the Logan on the ground, wincing at the metallic sound of his skull against the floor.

"Wade!" you hissed. "c'mon pumpkin', don't sweat it. He's full metal, remember?" he said as he gave the drunk Logan a kick in the side, the metallic sound echoing his words.

"listen here, babygirl" the merc started, looking at the unimpressed man before him. "this Wolverine has the he-can-do-anything-even-musical-stuff look to him and bonus he's actually wearing the accurate comic costume. So, uh yeah, there, timeline saved"

The silence coming from the dude that had called Wade here in the first place didn't sound too good get it?. And as you sat there, poking the drunk man's face with your index finger while whispering for him to "wake up, Wolvie, rise and shine, wakey wakey?"

"I don't understand"

"You said my, our" he pointed at you "universe is dying because this nutsack died, well, problem solved" he now pointed at Logan.

"oh my god" Paradox breathed out. "you actually think you can replace an Anchor Being with this?"

Oh, great. A rant was comming. Like the ones your mother goes on when you mess up too many times.

"I wouldn't have accepted any other Wolverine BT dubs. But you.. have outdone yourself and brought me the worst Wolverine in the whole multiverse!"

It looked as if the dude's temple vein was going to pop, and you weakly interveened. "what do you mean the worst one..?" you breathed out.

"This Wolverine let down his entire world, he's the stuff of Legend but not in a good way and what he did.. well, some things are just beyond forgiveness"

A beat of silence followed, you knew the Wolverine on the floor had been awake and listening for the whole time. But then, you saw Paradox finally looking at you.

"wait"

"what?"

"is that your little sidekick?"

The incredulous, and cruelly amused, tone of the man in uniform made Wade quirk an eyebrow under his mask.

"yeah, why?"

His words were followed by a booming laugh coming from Paradox. His hand going to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, as chuckle after chuckle it just confused Wade and you even more.

"I can't believe you've still got her"

That was like a titty-flash for Wade, and not the good kind. He stood there, mouth gaping like a fish as he wildly and overexageredly gestured towards you.

"I gave you a chance at greatness, because my superiors deemed you special. But, I did my duty. I gave you the opportunity and you refused, so there's no more bussiness to do here"

And with that, and a strange remote control in his hand, he pressed a button and zapped you three off to somewhere. Leaving Wade with a strange taste lingering in his mouth.

Well, at least it seemed like your last adventure wasn't going to be boring.

(tags : @coocoocachewgotscrewed , @lokisloverisnthere , @krowsfoot , @lizziegraysworld , @r0reep , @beelzel-brat ).

[afaimscorner]

The Flash 9x04

The tragic thing is that this whole Red Death Storyline would work, if they would have had the balls to actually change the character up enough to make him Oliver Queen or at least would have used Kate Kane for it. But with Ryan Wilder? Sorry, but why should we care about any of this stuff? Allegedly Iris’ best friend in her timeline, nice for her, but we never even saw any of that, Iris does not even know her! Just because they were friends in the “Armageddon”-Timeline, that will never come to pass anyway, as well, does not mean we have any feelings about a relationship between two characters who never met in reality. Same goes for Barry and Ryan, who also only ever interacted during “Armageddon” in this alternate future. They didn’t even go and state something ridiculous like “but Iris and Ryan did meet and become friends of screen” or something along those lines, and since there is no connection there, there is no tragedy there, it is just a cheap trick to bait “Batwoman”-fans to watch these episodes. And since that character does not even share Ryan’s backstory or her character with the real Ryan ... well as things stand they could have just gotten that guy who played Bruce Wayne on “Batwoman” for this storyline and have him be Red Death, the impact on the viewer would have been the same - none at all.

Also before this and the last episode I actually thought Javicia Leslie was a decent enough actress, but her playing evil or insane or whatever this is suposed to be makes me doubt that very much, sorry, but whoever thought that that would be a good idea was wrong. No, thank you, I can’t wait for that incredible stupid and senseless arc to be over. Sadly I have no hope for the second half of the season to be better but at least it can’t get much worse anymore.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything Pt. 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, MasterPost

What was with Danny’s luck and fires? He wondered as he searched a warehouse he’d come across for survivors. He’d been flying home(invisibly of course) when a nearby building had exploded. Flames licked at the grease spattered floor and ate at old crates, but the biggest issue was the smoke. It billowed thickly like the smog that filled Gotham’s skies, and impeded even Danny’s enhanced vision. He could taste the ash in the air. He knew there were people here. He heard someone coughing and the sound of fighting going on ahead. 

He forged onward, dashing towards the sounds, and the layers of smoke lessened enough for Danny to see what was taking place.

The first thing he noticed was the scuffle. About a dozen of what were clearly henchmen fired guns and grappled with. . .

Danny sighed.

More vigilantes.

One wore purple and had long, blonde hair. The other wore black with gold accents, and a mask covered her face. Both sides of the fight wore rebreathers.

The second thing Danny noticed was the red vigilante with bandoliers across his chest, bound with chains, and hanging by the ceiling. He hung over a vat of boiling oil that was alit with flames.

. . .

. . .

What was this? Some scene from a childrens’ cartoon?

Danny hurried forward, egged on by the lung Red was hacking up, one who very much was not wearing a rebreather.

Danny pointed a finger at the chain suspending the poor vigilante, and shot a small ecto-blast from the tip. The chain broke.

The vigilante screamed as he fell towards the boiling vat and Danny leapt to intercept him mid-air.

“Huu—“ The vigilante huffed at the impact, Danny’s shoes squealing as he landed and skidded to a halt.

The red guy wheezed. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Couldn’t just leave you hanging around, now could I?” Danny grinned.

Tim groaned.

Danny didn’t think the vigilante had room to complain.

Immediately, they were beset by attackers.

“Oop.” Danny dodged a bullet, shifting only the needed inch to avoid it. “Hey! Watch it! I’ve got cargo!”

“Carg—?!” The vigilante tried, only to hack again. He sounded offended. Danny didn’t really care.

A few goons were closing in on them from all sides, and Danny found it highly annoying that they were interfering with his mission to get this damsel in distress outside to fresh air. It wouldn’t take too long to knock ‘em out, but still.

One of the lackeys raised his weapon and Danny prepared to—

Flying in from the left came a foot, clocking the man in the jaw. Danny watched a small and lithe black figure move like she was the manifestation of violent, deadly grace itself. Danny was in awe as she took the man out, gliding and dancing as if it was all she breathed and all she lived. Her movements were efficient and so quick, Danny could barely catch the motions taking out the next three men after.  She tore through them like they were nothing. They fell at her feet as if they were insignificant gnats, as if one look was enough from the goddess of death over here to kill them.

She turned to Danny when she’d cleared his immediate attackers, and he stared at her, mouth slightly agape. His heart fluttered.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. . .” Danny muttered mostly to himself. He could watch her do that over and over and over again and never get tired of it. It was captivating.

The black vigilante went still for a moment, her eyes seeming to lock with his through her mask, before motioning for him to flee.

“Right.” Danny dashed past her, lugging the red one in a bridal carry. A fireman’s carry would probably be hard on his lungs.

“Wh—at w—s tha—t?!” The red one coughed up. Danny couldn’t tell if he was laughing at him or judging him. Or both.

“Shush.”

Danny blew through the nearest doors of the warehouse to meet fresh air and sucked in a deep breath. The smoke didn’t bother him, but this was still nice. He distanced himself from the warehouse quickly, worried about wasting time and risking this dude’s life. Or health. Danny had no idea how bad the smoke inhalation was. Pretty bad, he was guessing.

Danny laid him down in some alley. Mechanical whirring announced who had arrived. Danny looked up as the purple and black vigilantes dropped down from the roofs.

Danny’s eyes briefly glanced over Purple to rest on Black.

“Oh, hey. That was quick.”

The purple one shrugged. “We were almost done any—where did that come from?”

Danny uncoiled the tube to the oxygen tank and mask, fixing it over the baffled face of Red.

“Huh?” Danny fiddled with the knob on the tank and Red took deep breaths.

“You just have an oxygen tank on you at all times?” The purple one laughed.

“You don’t?” Danny countered. He tried not to smirk as Purple choked on her laugh.

“I was joking!”

Danny shrugged.

“Good job.” Black complimented and Danny’s heart palpitated. Her voice was so soft and gentle and the most melodious thing he’s ever heard.

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, no problem, just passing by, I'm in burning buildings all the time, wasn't any trouble." Danny rambled as he went back to fumbling with the knobs.

"Wait, what?" Red croaked.

Purple took in a long breath, as if hit with some amazing bit of realization.

Danny abruptly stood where he’d been sitting on the ground next to Red.

“Here. These are for you.” Danny thrust his hand out to Black, holding a bouquet of exotic, beautiful flowers, native to the Infinite Realms, and at least six times the size of his head.

Purple nearly seized back. “What the—?! Where are these things coming from?!”

Danny had received a multitude of bouquets for his coronation and he was suddenly very glad that he’d frozen them in time to decorate his keep with. Jazz had insisted it would brighten up the place.

“Ah, well, you never know when you might need a professionally done, extravagant bouquet of exotic wildflowers to present to your rescuer. You were my knight in shining. . .whatever kinda armour that is. . .”

Purple’s jaw went slack. Black seemed to pause before shrugging lightly and looking away, curling a little into herself as if embarrassed. Her body language said she was still happy, though. She carefully took the bouquet from him.

Danny was gonna die again. The butterflies were going to mutate and burst out of his stomach.

“Oh my gosh! Stop flirting over my dying body!” Red interrupted.

Danny spluttered. “I am not—“

“You totally are!!” Purple cackled as if this was the most entertainment she’s had in weeks.

Danny ignored her. “Anyway, can I have your name?” He asked Black.

“Wait. . .”Purple tried to get herself under control. “You don’t know who we are?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m, uh. . .from outta town.”

“Well, that was kinda obvious.” Red said.

“Orphan.” Black gestured to herself.

Danny paused. He blinked. Alright, that was. . .that was some oddly personal information to go straight to, but okay.

“I’m. . .sorry for your loss.”

Purple guffawed and slapped a hand over her mouth. Red hacked up another lung. He was gonna run out soon.

Black shook ever so subtly with her own laughter and Danny nearly melted.

“No. Name.” She gestured to herself. “Orphan.”

“It’s her vigilante name.” Purple was still laughing.

“Ah. . .yes. . .right.” Danny blushed. “My name’s Danny. It’s nice to meet y'all.” His words implied he spoke to all of them, but he looked only at Orphan.

“Yeah, I’m lucky you were there to grab me. I don’t know how that chain broke.” Red said from where he’d sat up from the ground. Danny’s lips pursed. He honestly kept forgetting about him.

Purple took a steadying breath, warding off the laughter still treading her words. “We should probably get him some medical attention.”

“Psh, I’m fine.”

“I thought you said you were dying?” Danny asked.

“That was like, ten seconds ago, I’m fine now.”

“Yeah, about as fine as a chain smoker with a drinking problem. Have you heard yourself? It’s like you swallowed a sword and gave it a good swishing around down there.” Purple retorted.

Red scoffed.

Danny backed out of the alley, flashing Orphan a smile before disappearing.

<><><><>

“What happened to all your food?!”

Danny came home to Jason(AKA Red Hood. {The wacky ectoplasm kinda made it obvious. Danny was working on that}) peering into his fridge judgementally as if it was an a affront to his person. “I loaded it up just a couple days ago!”

Danny reached past his friend to grab the orange juice and poured himself a glass. He went to sit at the counter. “I ate it all. Duh.”

“There was a week’s worth in there!” Jason gestured indignantly at the empty fridge, staring at Danny.

Danny took a long sip of his juice, keeping eye contact with Jason all the while. When his thirst was parched, he set the cup down with a quiet clink. He leaned his elbows on the counter to hold his face. 

“Obviously not, because I ate it all.”

Jason pinched his nose and sighed before letting the fridge door drift closed. He poured the kettle he must’ve boiled earlier into a prepared mug.

Danny stared down at his half-emptied glass. “I think I’m in love.” He murmured thoughtfully into it.

The tea bag bobbing in Jason’s mug paused, before continuing. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, mournfully. He wondered if Orphan would care if he was half-dead or from another dimension. Would he meet her again? He really, really hoped so. “I met her in a burning building.”

“. . .What?”

“Yeah, what an amazing coincidence, right?”

“That’s not—“

“She was so cool.”

“. . .kaaay?”

How did Danny get her attention? He couldn’t just show up wherever she was vigilante-ing, could he? He didn’t want her to feel like he was stalking her.

Danny shuddered and made a face. Ugh. Ew.

No. He needed to find another way.

A small smile wound it’s way over his lips as an idea came to him.

“What’s her name?” Jason asked.

“Umm, you’ve probably heard of her. She said her name was Orphan.”

Jason choked on his tea.

[flowerandblood]

Paradise Fruit (1)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: watching each other masturbate, soft, poetic smut, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After being treated by King Saladin's physicians, King Baldwin begins to leave his chambers. The people of the court whisper around her that the young ruler will not even live to be thirty years old. As a lady of waiting of his sister, she attracts his attention. ]

Author's Note: I said it and I did it: I know this isn't your typical Ewan Mitchell character, but I couldn't resist. I'm glad I wrote this because I had too many thoughts after watching this movie and now my soul is at peace! For those who haven't seen Kingdom of Heaven, I highly recommend it, it's an amazing production.

Word count: 3.900

Part 2 – White Marriage

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Jerusalem seemed to her at once a paradise and a hell on earth, both beautiful, sublimely sacred, as much as broken, dirty and cruel. The reign of King Baldwin IV was a reign of restraint and peace, the greatest evidence of which was his rich diplomatic correspondence with King Saladin himself.

Baldwin gave permission for the Muslim part of Jerusalem to hold prayers as it wished, on payment of appropriate taxes – a huge step towards reconciling the city's disparate population and a cause of contention among the Christian knights.

As lady of the court, she accompanied the royal sister, Sibylla, like her shadow, serving her with conversation, reading books in her company, being the equivalent of her friend and confidante, watching over her welfare.

She was the third daughter, and was therefore a burden to her lord father, who sent her to Jerusalem to the royal court when she was thirteen. Her father hoped that Sibylla herself would find her a suitable husband and put up the coins for her dowry, allowing her family to glory on the Old Continent in the fact that her chosen one was favoured by the God in the Holy Land.

Looking at Princess Sibylla's marriage, she prayed that she would never meet her fate, preferring to eventually fade into old age in a monastery.

Her Lady abhorred her husband: not in a physical context, for he was not unlike other great knights in stature or appearance, but in his heart, which was filled with the lust for power.

Although he believed that he was acting in the name of Christ on the Earth, he represented neither his mercy nor his prudence, being a simply unkind and spiteful man.

Sibylla was given in marriage to him at the age of 15, and she watched her sufferings and humiliations in silence, only being able to allow herself occasionally to close her hand on hers, giving her encouragement.

It was known that her husband's dream was the death of the King, for it would then be his wife who would become heir to the throne. Someone might laugh at this wish, knowing that King Baldwin was only 16 years old when she arrived at court.

However, despite such a young age, it was known that the King would probably not live to see his thirtieth year.

The cruel disease that had descended upon his body when he was still a young child, leprosy, was the reason why his whole body was covered, and his face was adorned with a beautiful silver mask – the only thing visible through it were his eyes, bright and wise, the skin around his eyelids all red.

His sister despaired at his undeserved suffering, at the thought that his body was falling apart, his skin peeling and pulling away from his muscles, causing him excruciating pain. He could not touch anyone or be touched directly because his disease was contagious.

Thus, one of the greatest rulers of Jerusalem, a man who had accomplished the impossible and ushered, at least for a while, the Kingdom of Heaven into this forbidden holy land, suffered daily torment.

As she prayed for the health of her family and his sister, she also prayed for him – since Christ was able to miraculously cure lepers, as the Bible itself said, perhaps there was hope for him too.

As a sign of respect and friendship, the Muslim King Saladin sent a retinue of his best physicians to relieve the King of his pain, which must have helped at least to some extent, for although she had previously only seen him in audience standing by his sister's side, now the King began to walk through the palace gardens on his own.

One day, when Sibylla noticed him standing next to one of the monks, she approached him immediately, praising his name, and she moved humbly to follow her, feeling grateful at the thought that the King was indeed feeling better.

That perhaps her prayers had been answered.

"Brother. It rejoices me to see you in the fresh air, away from the suffocating comfort of your chambers full of books and parchments." Sibylla said, pulling her shawl from her mouth, revealing her face to her brother.

As a married woman, she covered her face out of sheer decency, as her husband was a jealous man, but she, as a maiden, in addition almost always being in the presence of her Lady, did not have to do so.

"Your judgement is too harsh, dear sister. Books and parchments are my solace in the hardest of times." He said calmly and lazily, effortlessly – it was the first time she had heard his voice this close and she thought the words coming out of his mouth were like humming.

He had a white linen cloth draped over his head that reminded her of the headgear of the pharaohs, a richly embroidered white robe and gloves on his body, a silver mask portraying the features of a handsome, masculine man on his face.

She swallowed hard as his gaze shifted to her, catching her looking shamelessly at her ruler's face, causing her to lower her head immediately.

"Let's take a walk. We should take advantage of the beautiful weather." Said his sister, wanting to take his arm, he however moved away immediately and shook his head.

Pain and sadness crossed Sibylla's face, but after a moment she only nodded and forced herself to smile, walking ahead with him, letting her and the King's servant walk a few steps behind them.

That evening, for the first time, the King summoned her.

"Do not fret." Sibylla said. "My brother is a man of decency and sensitivity. Rest assured, he will not set upon your virtue or force you to do things unworthy of a lady. He confessed to me that he would like to look at your face for at least a moment longer and asked me to convey his wish to you, indicating that you may refuse."

She looked at her in disbelief, feeling the blush of embarrassment appear on her cheeks at her words, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad.

"If it is the will of our beloved King, I will do so." She said, and Sibylla nodded, giving her one satisfied smile.

She wore her most beautiful robe and hair adornments as if she were about to attend a nuptials – the material cast over her body was blue, fastened at the shoulders and waist with golden buckles, in her hair at the sides jewellery resembling a wreath of laurel leaves.

As she entered his chamber, candles burned all around, she was also struck by the intense scent of lavender – she noticed immediately his white, seated figure bent over thick tomes. His head turned towards her, in his mask she was able to see the reflection of everything around him.

"Do not be afraid. Come closer." He said softly and she nodded, feeling her heart flutter in her chest like a bird.

Her footsteps on the stone floor echoed through his chamber, the rustling of her robe as she sat down opposite him made her sound similar to the rustling of leaves.

She swallowed hard as she watched him sigh and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking her straight in the eye – she immediately looked away, unaccustomed to such confidentiality with anyone.

"No." He said. "Don't deny me this pleasure."

She tightened her fingers on the material of her garment, lifting her gaze to him again, feeling herself involuntarily begin to breathe through her mouth.

She could see the calm and curiosity in his eyes – his head was tilted slightly to one side, as if he was thinking about something, silence all around him.

"I'm making you uncomfortable." He concluded.

She shook her head quickly, horrified, thinking that something in her posture or gaze had discouraged him.

"No, Your Grace. I just don't know how to behave. What is appropriate for me to do or say in your presence. Silence is safe." She confessed in shame, lowering her eyes to her fingers again, reminding herself after a moment that she should not do so.

The King hummed at her words.

"Do not take my words as my attempt to mock you, however, knowing how little time I have left in this wretched world has made me tread lightly in courtly etiquette." He said with amusement, not taking his eyes off her, something flashed in his gaze as if someone had lit a candle inside them.

"We waste time feigning care and respect, hiding what is true, arising from the depths of our hearts, because that is what etiquette demands of us. When we stand before God, will we say to him: I have never really loved or sympathised, but my lips have left many beautiful, great words?" He asked, and she looked at him in disbelief, completely surprised by his approach and what she had heard.

Some part of her knew he was right.

"In this world, only the King can afford to lack beautiful words." She muttered, hearing after a moment that something akin to a chuckle had left his lips.

"You are mistaken. One word from the King can either create or destroy."

She lowered her head, wondering if he had just rebuked her, he, however, seemed satisfied.

"My reign will end with my death, which will be in a few years at the latest. I will not beget an heir to whom I can pass on my philosophy of ruling, the values that are essential. My sister's husband and his greed will sit on the throne, and Jerusalem will fall." He said calmly, as if he were telling her about the weather, his fingers clad in a white silk glove tapping rhythmically against the table top.

She swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in her heart, wondering if perhaps the reason he had summoned her was quite different from what she had suspected.

"What shall I do, my King?" She asked, and he laughed again, louder this time, looking at her as if something in her question gave him pleasure.

"Your devotion rejoices my heart. Do not think, however, that you will hear from me an order that would condemn you to eternal damnation. I could not then leave this world in peace. No. I wish that when I disappear, someone will watch over my sister. To help her escape when all is lost here, no matter what her husband will desire. Do you understand what I have in mind?" He asked softly, and she nodded, thinking she felt more respect towards him than ever.

"Yes, my King." She replied.

He smiled at her words, she saw it in his gaze. She lifted her gaze higher, towards the windows by which the shoots of dried lavender hung, surrounding them with a pleasant, refreshing scent.

"I had these beautiful flowers brought in from far away. They mask well the unpleasant ailments of my illness on hot days. The smell of rotting flesh is one of the most disgusting to man, for nature equates it with spoiled food from which he can die." He explained, and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling hot shame ripple through her body at his words.

His suffering must have been unimaginable.

"Knights praise their own greatness and bravery during battles wishing for songs to be sung about them. I, for one, hope to hear songs about Baldwin IV, a wise and prudent King, a merciful Monarch who fought each day with his own suffering and triumphed. I do not know the words that can convey my admiration for your person." She mouthed in a trembling voice, feeling that her hands lying on her thighs were quivering all over with emotion, burning tears for some reason squeezed under her eyelids.

The King looked at her for a long moment in silence, something in his gaze that made her feel a pleasant tingling in her fingertips.

"Your soul is as beautiful as your body. You are like a breath of cool wind on a hot day. I am grateful to you for allowing me to experience this joy."

As she left his chamber, for some reason she burst out crying.

She could not understand why: it seemed to her that her heart squeezed all over in pain, not only out of compassion, but also out of a sense of injustice that a man so great and enlightened was experiencing undeserved torment every day.

Or was it through his ordeal that he became such a man, such a King?

If the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven were to open before anyone in the second life, it was before him, she thought.

That night she could not sleep: she was ashamed of herself for thinking about him. She tried not to pay attention to men, knowing their nature, knowing that they might consider it an invitation on her part to sin.

However, the time she spent with him, although she might perceive his words as ambiguous, seemed to her something almost spiritual, a moment of awakening, as if she had been in a half-sleep until the moment she looked into his eyes.

His gaze would find her in the audience among the other servants and ladies of the court. She knew this because his eyes stopped on her face, and although he listened intently to what his subjects were saying to him, she knew that for that one moment he was focused only on her.

The flutter of her heart shamed her, allowing her to realise that, like a flower, a warm and pleasant feeling was blossoming within her, coming from God.

"You occupy my brother's thoughts. He follows you with his eyes." Said Sibylla as they walked together through the corridors of the great, cold stone fortress.

"It was not my desire to distract him from the affairs of the Kingdom." She confessed with shame, entwining her fingers on her womb, looking sadly at her fingers. His sister snorted at her words.

"Jerusalem is destroying him. It is the Kingdom that is his disease. He has taken upon himself all its sins, purified it. He gave it years of peace and dignity." She said with a pain from which she felt a sting in her heart.

Why was it that whenever she thought of him she wanted to cry?

"I want to relieve him." She said finally, looking at her uncertainly, afraid of how the words sounded when they left her mouth. Sibylla stopped, looking at her with furrowed brows.

"Don't be a fool. My brother will not condemn you to a fate similar to his own."

"There are many ways to experience relief. You said so yourself, Princess."

Sibylla looked at her thoughtfully and after a moment nodded, giving her wordless consent to whatever she wished to do.

The trust she had in her intimidated her.

As the siblings' chambers were next to each other, walking along the corridor from one quarters to the other was not a problem for her – Sibylla dismissed her guards so that no one could see in what negligee she went to the king's chamber.

Her long hair was loose, her body covered only by a thin nightgown, rubbed with fragrant oils, on her shoulders a cashmere shawl with which she covered herself to protect herself from the cold.

When she closed the door behind her and turned to face him, his eyes were wide in shock. He was silent for a moment, clearly not knowing what to say.

"No." He said finally. "Go back to your chamber."

"I have not come to you to sin. Does the sight of me disgust you, my King?" She asked in a trembling voice, feeling that she was breathing heavily through her mouth, her heart pounding like mad in her chest.

She saw something in his gaze that looked like he felt pain, his figure creased slightly, as if he had run out of strength.

"God created you to subject me to the ultimate trial. He is torturing me like Job."

She felt a single, warm, heavy tear run down her cheek at his words, her body trembling all over, hot and cold at the same time with desire, though she did not know what kind or what was causing it.

"God sent me to soothe your suffering." She whispered.

They looked at each other like that for a long moment that lasted an eternity, and only after a while did she realise that his silence was due to the fact that he wanted whatever she was going to do to be due to her free will. Therefore, she moved tentatively towards his bed, on which she saw a clean, snow-white sheets, and lay down on her back, putting her shawl aside.

She looked up at him – his gaze was fixed on her, his silhouette sitting in a chair by the window frozen in stillness, the whiteness of his attire seeming to her to shine amidst the candles and the surrounding darkness of the night.

She swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in her throat as her fingers lifted to the ties of her nightgown – she untied the knot, a pleasant squeeze spreading between her thighs, something sticky beginning to leak from it onto the sheet beneath her buttocks.

"– does what I am doing disgust you, my King? – is it a sin? –" She asked, sliding the thin material off her shoulders in a gentle, soft motion, unashamedly revealing her plump, sweet breasts. His gaze fled to them, as if what he had just seen simultaneously terrified and excited him.

"– looking at you, all I feel is desire – it's me sinning in my mind, not you –" He whispered so that she barely heard him, his hand sliding from the table top to his thigh.

Though she knew it was wrong, her whole body screamed, wanting him to touch her, to check for himself how soft and warm her flesh was, her moist, swollen womanhood, pulsing around nothing in desire.

"– not just you, Your Grace –" She muttered in a trembling voice, shamefully mimicking his movements, her long, small fingers sliding down her belly between her thighs, sinking into her warm folds like the moist flesh of an exotic fruit.

His head bowed as they both made a strange, unnatural sound full of surprise at the same moment, a moan as if they had caused each other pain, but yet all she could feel was a wonderful, hot tingling in her quivering womanhood, in her lips, in her nipples, in the tips of her fingertips.

He did not allow her to look at what he was touching under the material of his robe, she could however see the shape of that part of his body outlined on the material – his manhood was long and fat like a piece of stick, growing larger and larger with each squeeze of his hand.

She threw her head back, imagining feeling something that big inside her, in an involuntary reflex finding with her fingertips her puffy slit, slick and tight, resisting her as she tried to slide it inside her.

"– let me see –" He whispered, as if asking for something dirty, disgusting, repulsive.

She, however, felt only the heat of pleasure at his words shake her body – her thighs involuntarily parted, her legs bent at the knees allowing her nightgown to shamelessly reveal all that only her husband should be able to look at.

She felt tears under her eyelids at the thought of wanting to be his wife.

"– you have my love, my King – you have my heart –" She breathed out, digging her fingers deeper into the delicate structure of her folds, teasing again and again the small bud from which her body went through shivers of wonderful, familiar pleasure.

His eyes were fixed on what was between her thighs, his gaze hazy and hot, his breath heavy, the sound of his hand smacking against his flesh sticky and lewd.

"– like the inside of a ripe fruit – like Eve in paradise –" He breathed out, staring at her as if he were looking at something delightful, accelerating the splats of his hand with a low grunt of pleasure. "– so beautiful –"

She felt a thrill of pleasure shake her, shivers ran through her cheeks, breasts and legs at his words, so shameless and yet poetic, beautiful, like the Song of Songs of King David.

"– her breasts are like two fawns –" She hummed, quoting one of the biblical verses, the gaze of her King again fixed on her face, full of fire, heavenly or infernal. "– like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies –"

"– her lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb – milk and honey are under her tongue –" He whispered in reply, quoting another of the songs from the manuscript, making her involuntarily allow her own fingers to invade her insides at last.

She threw her head back with a girlish moan, her free hand gripping the frame of his bed, rolling her hips back and forth, stretching her tight interior with the sticky clicks of her wetness.

"– she is a spring enclosed – a sealed fountain –" He muttered and let out a low, helpless groan of relief, leaning down, his hand lying on the table top clenched into a fist.

She felt a wonderful convulsion shake her body at his words, her fleshy, moist walls beginning to throb and clench around her own fingers.

She imagined that her body had just sucked his seed deep inside her, which would take root in her like a tree, giving him a future and an inheritance.

She moaned as she felt her pleasure reach its peak, seeing for a moment only the darkness before her eyes – her fingers, all wet with her moisture stroked for a moment more the little spot deep inside her, her whole body hot and sweaty from the exertion.

Her release was wonderful and sweet, as if she had tasted the most delicious of fruits.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, his figure relaxed and spread out comfortably on the chair, his hand laid back on its armrest, his glove sticky with something pearly and shiny.

They breathed loudly for a while, just watching each other – she decided not to cover her body, wanting to give him that pleasure, wishing only his gaze could see her like this.

Bare.

He sighed quietly, cocking his head, his gaze satisfied, indicating that he had clearly made a decision in his heart.

"– I will marry you tomorrow at dawn –"

She blinked and raised herself up on her elbows, horrified.

"– my King – that's not –"

"– I know that this was not your intention – I also know that you will understand that it will be a white marriage, which I will declare to all and sundry – you will not lose your maidenhood – you will not bear me children – the Kingdom will treat you after my death as a saint who stood by the dying King in his misery – when I join my Father in the Heavens, you will be free to remarry –" He explained and she shook her head, feeling offended by his words.

"– I will not take another husband –"

He fell silent and swallowed hard, as if something in the certainty in which she said this moved him deeply.

"– very well – I have only one condition: you will never take off my mask – not even after my death – you will see me as I am only in the Kingdom of Heaven –"

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - part 1

Ship: Dead on Main

“Excuse me?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“How would you describe your ideal date?” the man repeated the question calmly as if he hadn’t snuck up on Red Hood on a rooftop in the middle of the night and didn’t have two guns pointed at him by said surprised vigilante.

Jason had no idea what to think, it was absurd. Only one thing made the smallest bit of sense. After all some reporters would do anything for a story.

“Is this an interview for a gossip magazine?”

The man blinked. “No, this is for personal use only.”

Okay. That was even weirder. With that thought he holstered his guns, grabbed his grapple instead and jumped off the building. He could move his patrol elsewhere for tonight.

Oo o oO

It had been a few days, the strange encounter forgotten about as he’d quickly come across a shipment of unsanctioned drugs entering his territory; Black Mask was making moves towards Crime Alley again. Red Hood had to nip that bullshit in the bud. Just because he was more vigilante than crime lord these days didn’t mean he’d gone soft.

So, Jason had forgotten about the strange man on the rooftop and was wholly unprepared when once again he was standing on a rooftop taking a small break in his patrol and someone spoke:

“So I assume dinner is out what with the whole helmet deal, but what about chocolate?”Jason spun around heart in this throat, guns pointing towards the direction of the voice. It took a moment for him to even find him. This time he was sitting on top on the slanted roof of the stairwell.

“What the-“

“A box of chocolate could be enjoyed later, would that be a suitable gift?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Too many things to remember off the top of my head.” The man jumped down and walked towards Jason, once more showing his absolute disregard for the guns pointing at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

That for some reason brought a smile to his face.

Somehow, Jason was the one taking a step back despite being the one holding the guns. That at least stopped the man’s advance and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, I guess this whole showing up on a rooftop in the dark is kinda creepy.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just with you being you, I don’t know where else to catch you.”

Jason felt an incoming headache, and he was feeling increasingly silly pointing his guns at the man when he didn’t react to them at all.

“How about you explain who you are and what you want?”

“Oh!” He slapped his forehead as if he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I’m Danny, and I’ve been hired to take you out.” He smiled brightly.

Jason stared in disbelief. Who in their right mind just announced they’d been hired to kill someone, to the person they intended to-

No…

It couldn’t be…

He’d been asking about dates and chocolate. He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood take out Red Hood as take out Red Hood on a date. Nobody would be that stupid…

“Why would someone hire you to take me out on a date?”

Danny, if that was his real name, shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were stressed and needed a nice evening? I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do odd jobs for money, keeps the lights on, you know?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe this.

“And like this job pays extremely well for some reason, so like I’d like to do a good job of it hence the questions?”

Of course it payed extremely well, it was meant to be a freaking hit! Still could be of course, but then it was the oddest way to go about it that Jason had ever experienced and he’d taken out quite a few would-be assassins in his time.

Danny’s face fell at Jason’s continued non-responsiveness. He sighed. Then brought out a notepad and scribbled something down, before ripping off the paper and holding it out to Jason.

“Look,” he said, when Jason made no move to take the paper and still just kept his guns trained on him, “here’s my number if you change your mind. If you haven’t called back in three days, I’ll return my advance and tell them I can’t do it - no matter how sad I’ll be to see that money go.” He looked pained at the admission, but then looked back up at Red Hood with determination.

“Still please reconsider, Mr Hood, I promise I’ll show you a good time if you agree to a date.”He looked expectantly from his hand with the paper to Jason’s helmet. Jason sighed. Holstering his right hand gun he took the paper. It was indeed a phone number, above the number it said Danny with a little smiley face drawn after the name.

Danny’s face brightened into a smile.

“Have a good night then Mr. Hood, I hope to hear from you.” Danny walked backwards with a wave and promptly tripped on an empty bottle someone had left.

“Woah!” His arms windmilled and he only just saved himself from falling back and hitting his head by sheer luck as he caught himself in the sort of gravity defying pose that would win him most limbo games. He laughed sheepishly as he put a hand down and turned around to push himself back up.

“So that was embarrassing. Should look where I go, huh? Never know when you’ll be assaulted by littering…” his voice trailed off as he walked away. He threw a last wave over his shoulder before jumping onto the fire escape and beginning his climb down.

Jason was left standing on the rooftop, paper clutched in one hand, trying to comprehend the whole baffling conversation. Also there was a distinct curl of embarrassment that he’d actually felt threatened by the guy at one point.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna unpack that. He put the paper in a pocket of his utility belt and took a running leap to the next rooftop.

Oo o oO

Jason could not believe he was actually doing this.

It was three days later. In the mean time he’d asked around his old enforcers if they heard about a guy named Danny who did “odd jobs” as he’d called it.

As it turned out, there was indeed an odd-job-Danny, sometimes just called odd-Danny, with an increasing reputation on the streets of Gotham for doing all sorts of jobs - everything from helping old ladies carry groceries home for pennies and a pat on the cheek to heavier lifting by the docks. When he asked one of the street kids about him, he was told he also helped look for lost pets for pretty rocks or whatever the kids had in their pockets at the time, and he could fix just about anything - which had to be an exaggeration, but then again the street kids weren’t prone to overly positive opinions about adults, so he’d certainly made quite an impression on them.

Yet despite a lot of people knowing about him, apparently nobody knew a last name or where he lived. It was a mystery.

All that to say that Jason was curious… and apparently doing this.

He looked down at his phone, where he’d already put in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He still could not believe he was doing this. If this was a trap he was apparently walking in.

With a sigh he pushed the button.

It rang three times before it connected.

“Hello?” A hesitant voice asked.

“Is this Danny?” “Who’s asking?”

“You ask me on a date and you already forgot, I’m hurt,” Jason deadpanned hoping he would catch on to it not being wise to mention Red Hood’s name on an unencrypted line.

“Oh! So is that a yes?” He piped up excitedly.

Urgh, why was it charming that that he sounded so genuinely excited?

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Did you consider my questions?”

“Nope,” Jason popped the p and found himself smirking, “gonna have to impress me all on your own.”

Danny huffed. “Have it your way. I’ll show you a good time, you’ll see. How does… Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“’s fine.”

“Meet you in front of the building we last met, at 2 pm? Also unless you wanna take the bus, maybe bring your bike? I don’t drive.”

Jason scoffed. Letting some stranger hired to kill him close to him on his bike was a recipe for disaster. Still he found himself answering:

“Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you Sunday then.”

With those words the call ended.

Jason looked down at his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Jason, no, Red Hood had a date for this Sunday. A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t help laughing. Red Hood going on a date. It was fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he was kinda looking forward to it. -

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[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

Dude, I’m still mad about Mark in Flash season nine. Someone should have called him out on his absolute bullshit

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ trois ] | sylus

summary: he still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. she’s not you. the body type and stature don’t match. still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate in his journey to find you.

warnings: human trafficking, graphic depictions of violence, minor character deaths, reader has hair, reader implied to be femme, mild language, allusions to reader’s past as a kidnappee, sylus is still murderous

tagging: @world-of-hearts @athanasia-day @falon-fen @queen-serena88 @karespocketboyfriends @mrswanel @readerxyourfave @sunsets-and-crows @antonneva @libriomancer, @queenofstresss, @aeanya @socutesotall @babyx91 @syyyy4ever @karolamurdock

notes: limerence | part 1 | part 2

now playing: o fortuna - carl orff

He recalls it like it was yesterday.

You, clad in black, bearing enough skin to tease. Your back was to him as you fiddled with something, none the wiser to his molten stare. 

He’d watched you from the rail of his club’s second-floor balcony. Thoughts consuming him as guests trickled out, drunk, merry, and sure to return. He waited until the last of them left—until his staff scuttled about, clearing off tables and reorganizing expensive bottles at the bar—to make his move.

You were a guest headliner—someone he occasionally invited to perform on stage. Lux was known for more than just its atmosphere. 

The entertainment was unmatched, and the women were attractive. Sylus couldn’t deny how the scene became more…interesting with you around. You even managed to draw out a few of his enemies for him to snuff out, the bastards greedy and wanton in the face of fresh meat.

With a smirk, Sylus descended the stairs. Stopped behind you, watching you struggle to unlatch your heels from your ankles. 

You glanced up when he poured himself onto the red leather ottoman across. So close, his knees bracketed either side of yours, and he’d caught a whiff of that warm scent you carried. 

Wordlessly, he drew your foot into his lap. Your expression warped into one of brief astonishment before it was replaced by something sultry. A mask you often donned when putting on a show, though he was curious to see what truly lay beneath it. 

You leaned back on your palms whilst he undid the buckle. He glanced up, a chuckle dredged from his chest as you dragged your toes down his quad in thanks. It was flattering. Felt nice, little tingles ricocheting up his spine. 

He hadn’t pursued the touch of a woman for some time, too busy solidifying his position in the underworld to entertain temptations of the flesh. 

He was here on business. His personal reservations could wait. 

Sylus patted his thigh, signaling you to give him your other foot. You had been dancing all night. Smiled pretty, made him money. The least he could do was reward you for your generous contributions. Show a little empathy. 

You obliged, an appreciative hum in your throat when he freed you of your shackle. Reluctantly, gently, he let your feet slide to the floor. Contemplated massaging them–they were soft and agitated. But he was here to preposition you, not seduce you. 

Not yet.

Sylus leaned forward in an easy slouch with his elbows resting on his quads. Tapped his fingers together, studying you. 

You were quite a sight beneath the red throb of the lights overhead. The imperfections lining your features made you all the more appealing, hiding beneath the glamor you posted up with your Evol. He could easily see through it, thanks to his Aether Core.

He knew about that, too. The power you housed. Part of why you were such a showstopper, your Evol allowing you to make these elaborate costume changes and transitions in the midst of performing. 

He didn’t know the full extent of your abilities just yet. Figured they were more than cheap parlor tricks. But having the power of illusion on his side was something he couldn’t get on without. 

Clearing his throat, Sylus spoke low and even, voice slightly above the dull pulse of the music turned down in the background. 

“How would you like to be a permanent employee here?” 

You quirked a brow. Pitched forward with a hand propped under your chin, your eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That easy, huh?”

“What? You thought I just came here out of the goodness of my heart?” Your eyes flickered downward, and you leaned in, toying with the first button of his shirt.

He was surprised by how simple you’d made this for him. No coercion, no ultimatums. It’s as if you were waiting for him to preposition you, coiled like a spring itching to be released. He couldn’t help wondering if you knew the full extent of what he’d ask of you. The people he’d employed were more than just pretty faces. But that conversation would come later once he’d earned your trust, your loyalty. 

Nonetheless, he put back up the businessman front as he stood. Twirled the strap of your heel on a slender finger, and he peered down at you with a lazy smirk, offering you his hand to help you up and to seal the deal. 

“Then it’s settled. You work for me now,” he replied coolly. Matter of factly, no room for you to back out.

You stood with his help, your hand in his electrifying. You bore a look of amusement as you shook it, sensing there was more to this ‘job’ than what was shown at the surface. You were signing a contract with the Devil and didn’t even know it. 

“Cool. Do I get a welcome basket or something?”

Sylus snorted. Beautiful and cheeky. He could tell this would be the beginning of an interesting partnership. “I could arrange that.”

The mirth around you dwindled, and you studied him for a beat before you grew antsy. Held out your hand as the moment subsided, tapping your foot expectantly.

“Can I have my shoe back now? I should probably get goin’ before you try to coerce me into being your secretary, too.”

He canted his head, feigning ignorance. Woundedness. “I thought I’d hold onto it as a memento.”

You huffed out a laugh. “A memento for what?”

“For our new friendship.”

You snorted. “That’s real creepy, Mister.” Made a grab for your heel, yet Sylus held it just out of reach. You tried for the shoe again, your fragrance overhauling his senses as your warm chest brushed against him. 

He suddenly found himself wanting to smell you all the time, wanting to feel the heat wafting off your skin more often. And that pretty smile you wore—he had to have it for himself. 

You looked at him with a devastating curl to your lips, hands on hips. “Do you tease all your new recruits like this, or am I a special case?”

He chuckled, something tugging in his chest. “Consider it a part of the onboarding process.”

As you stood there, silently scrutinizing each other beneath the strobing lights, he found his interest in you sinking deeper than surface level. And he suddenly wanted to know about everything that made you tick. 

He felt a magnetic pull towards you, like the moon drawn to Earth. Something he couldn’t quite place. He’d be remiss to say he wasn’t curious to see where this partnership could lead. 

The deal was sealed that fateful night, even if it hadn’t been in black and white. He owned you. 

And over time, you would learn that you owned him, too.

—

The present comes sliding back in, banishing his memories to the furthest reaches of his mind. He’s caught reminiscing like you’re already dead. Catastrophizing, assuming the worst. 

He knows better. You’re tough. Stubborn. Still, he doesn’t err in his steps to find you. There’s always that just in case. Just in case your Evol failed you. Just in case they incapacitated you long enough to sell you off.

He’s panting. 

Not from the exertion of fighting and killing. Rending flesh from bone, turning men to ash as he saps their energy to use as his own. Not from painting the ship’s walls with the soot of burned bodies, leaving a statement for anyone who dares to steal from him again.

No.

He pants with an effort to restrain himself. 

He could sink this ship if he so chooses. But there are still innocents onboard, trickling out in onesies and twosies. Still goons charging at him from the exits with weapons poised at his chest as if they know who he is and what he’s after—laid out the red carpet, pulling out all the stops.

And he still has yet to locate your whereabouts. 

He ducked in and out of vacant rooms after reaching the cruise ship's lowest cabins. He funneled henchmen into the hallways one by one, snuffing them out like coals. Followed their source, gritting his teeth as the trail came up cold.

He eases into another area once the fray dies down. An inky darkness greets him. He crouches when he hears a lifeless, robotic voice speaking. Rattling off descriptions like it’s reading a menu. 

Sylus’ blood turns to icicles in his veins. Could this be the auction he’s been seeking all this time?

He peers over the partition, blocking him from sight. Spots a gentleman clad in a suit, his back facing Sylus as he sits in a leather armchair.

Two more men similarly sit on opposite sides of the room, forming a triangle. Various animal masks conceal their faces. 

Fixed in the center is a ceiling-high, glass display case with three figures clad in black standing in its center.

Two bodyguards flank the smaller being shrouded in an onyx cloak. One guard reaches up to peel back the robe’s hood, and Sylus’ breath catches. 

The figure is inherently feminine, clad in a lingerie set. Gaunt, like she’s been deprived of a proper meal for days. If not for the henchman with their hands manacling her forearms, Sylus is sure she would collapse. 

They’d dressed her up all pretty like a doll. Tried to make her look more appealing, though Sylus was sure these men would buy her regardless of how emaciated she looked. 

He still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. She’s not you. The body type and stature don’t match. But still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate.

The metallic voice chimes in overhead again. The bidding starts at one million. The gentleman before Sylus raises a white paddle, soundlessly placing his bid. Sylus’ stomach churns. He’ll kill everyone here, he swears it.

He observes passively for another moment. Bristles when the girl in the case weakly attempts to free herself from her captors. They shake her in warning, and the veil slips off.

Sylus swallows thickly, his power prickling on his fingertips. He waits until the bid reaches five million before he makes his move. Soundless as the tendrils of his Evol snake around five necks. Before they know what’s amiss, five sources of life are siphoned, sinking into Sylus’ body. 

The woman gasps. Throws herself against the glass, pounding on it with weakened fists. Begs Sylus with quivering, blood-crusted lips to save her. 

He’s detached as he snaps his wrist, the entry of the display case easing open. She studies him a moment longer in her quiet panic. Looks between him and the open door, unsure of what to do. 

Sure, he’s disappointed that she isn’t the woman he seeks. She isn’t you. But he wouldn’t hurt her. That would go against all the effort he put forth tonight to bring this human trafficking ring to its knees. 

He signals for the girl to leave with a cant of his head. She snatches up the cloak, hurriedly draping it about her shoulders before skittering out of sight.

Sylus’ mouth pulls into a rigid line. Nostrils flare. He burns with malice, breathing deep to quell the urge to burn this ship to the bowels of the ocean. Still, he has faith that you’re still on board somewhere. He just has to look harder.

Dipping out of the room, he enters another. Goons no longer pursue him, either thoroughly snuffed out or they fled in the wake of Sylus’ ire. 

He’s startled when he hears an enmeshment of grunts. One high and light, and the other gurgled and strained as if being choked. He darts from behind the partition in this new room, and the sight that welcomes him makes his body flood with something glacial.

He pants again, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

A wave of relief crashes into him. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

In the center of a case similar to the one he’d seen just moments before is you. And you’re in the midst of choking out a guard with the links of your cuffs. He’s red-faced and fighting for his life, clawing at the links until bloody, jagged lines marr his neck. It’s to no avail.

With one final jerk, bone snaps, and the sigh of a life fleeting signals his demise. Your breaths are labored as you sit amid your carnage—four guards taken out similarly, haloing you—fixing Sylus’ with a reposed look.

“Took you long enough,” you puff with an inkling of a smile. And he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful, even beneath the sweat and grime and blood—thankfully not yours—that you’d accumulated throughout your capture.

Sylus moves on autopilot when his wits return. With a waggle of his fingers, your cuffs fall free from your wrists, accompanied by the shackles around your ankles. You must’ve put up quite the fight. He swells with pride despite the moment, and if you knew the doubts he housed about your safety, you would surely fight him.

He pries the display’s door open with his Evol and conquers the space between you in three long strides. Kneeling on the floor beside you, Sylus ingests your features. Smooths your sweat-slicked hair away from your face. Turns your head this way and that, scrutinizing you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assure on an exhale. Wrap your lithe fingers around his wrist as if to soothe, and it’s like he’s been shocked by static. He studies you a moment longer, painting a frantic triangle between your eyes and mouth before taking your hand in his, trying to haul you up.

“Let’s get you out—”

“Ow!” you hiss, flinching back. Sylus’ eyes glaze over you before taking in your ankle's swollen, purpling state. His eyes narrow, and he resists an urge to growl. 

If he hadn’t already killed all of them, he’d make them pay for hurting you.

“Might’ve sprained it,” you laugh, wincing at the stickiness of your voice. 

He peers at you fondly before scooping you into his arms, mindful of your injury. You instinctively curl into him, your arms loosely winding about his neck, and you nuzzle into the hollow of his shoulder. 

With his adrenaline slowly draining, Sylus cautiously moves you back into the hallway. Steps over the viscera and carnage he had caused, severed hands and errant teeth littering the once clean, blue, carpeted floors.

He has you back. You’re safe. A little bruised, but you’re safe. And he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so grateful. 

Slowly, the pair of you are consumed by the shadows of his Evol before morphing out of existence.

—

“Where will they go?” you ask with a wistful, faraway look in your eyes as Sylus’ coat blankets you, flapping in the breeze.

Luke and Kieran were herding the girls from the semi from the docks into awaiting vehicles, accompanied by a slew of Sylus’ staff members from Lux. They were patient and understanding as they gave the girls blankets and water, ushering them into Jeeps and SUVs to be transported to safety.

You watch them from Sylus’ arms, and he catches a glimpse of the girl you were all those years back. Hopeful and optimistic despite being in captivity yourself, knowing that no one would come for you. 

With his eyes transfixed on you, he speaks low and even. “Back to their families.”

You gaze at him, your eyes glazing over with a swell of tears. A moment of rarity between you, where you drop your defenses and grace him with a peak of the woman that resides beneath that callused exterior you outwardly project to the world—a means of protecting yourself. 

“What if they don’t have families?”

He shifts you in his arms, a smirk touching his lips. “Then we’ll do everything we can to help them find their place in this world again.”

You look at him with a reverent gleam to your irises. Shyly nuzzle into his chest, your voice so small, he has to strain to hear it.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Seriously.”

Something tugs at his heartstrings. He merely nods, walking you through the line of vehicles. The click of his loafers on the pavement echoes whilst he takes you towards the moonlight, nestled against the horizon. 

—

“You’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion, sweetie,” Sylus husks, and it surprises even him how soft he sounds. 

You must feel so smug, having the big, bad Boogeyman fretting over your well-being like this. He could crush you with his bare hands, yet he’s cautious as he strokes some of your baby hairs away from your forehead, your temple cool to the touch.

“Not sleeping,” you rasp, your lips pulling into a disarming smile. You don’t sound convincing, your voice heavy with sleep. But could he argue with you? “Just resting my eyes a bit.”

He snorts, your smile infectious. He lapses into silence when your smile fades and your breaths even out. Reluctantly withdraws his hand, watching you slumber atop his bed, and you just look so natural between silken, red sheets with the firelight waltzing over your visage. 

It’s been an eventful night. You deserve some rest. He feels better, having you safely tucked away in the penthouse, far from the arms of men with impure intentions, far from your memories. Should anything else come up, he knows you’ll be alright with the twins and his employees downstairs keeping tabs on you.

Regardless, his brows furrow with worry. Unlike him, you haven’t this miraculous ability to heal as quickly as he does. 

As if summoned from his thoughts, Mephisto appears through a flurry of inky smoke on his wrist. Sylus scratches the crow’s chin affectionately before fixing him with a serious, crimson stare. “Keep an eye on her,” he implores. 

Said crow hops from his wrist onto the side of the bed near your face, and in his way, he signals to Sylus that you’ll be left in good hands. Or wings.

With a final sigh, Sylus peels himself from the bedside chair. Stuffs his hands in his pockets, sparing one final look at your snoozing figure from over his shoulder. He can’t help how his lips twitch, something like affection warming his veins as he stands in the doorframe.

He exits the penthouse, down the elevator shaft, and through the stilled halls of Lux. Dumps himself into the balmy arms of the summery night. 

There’s still unfinished business to attend to, and now that he knows where Fate’s stronghold is, he figures he’ll pay an old friend a much-needed visit.

And maybe teach him a thing or two about stealing from The Devil.

[novaursa]

The Witch Queen (long live the queen)

- Summary: You arrive from faraway land to aid Rhaenyra before her rightful claim is stolen.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The throne room of the Red Keep was eerily silent, the weight of recent death clinging to every stone, every corner. The air itself seemed thick with the ghosts of those who had come before, all watching as the world shifted once again. You stood beside Rhaenyra, your presence undeniable and commanding, as though the very walls trembled beneath the strength of your blood. The Iron Throne loomed ahead, its jagged blades gleaming in the dim light, waiting for its rightful queen.

Rhaenyra’s grip on your hand was firm yet trembling, the weight of what was about to happen pressing on her shoulders. Her face was calm, regal, but you could feel the storm beneath the surface of her skin, her pulse quickening beneath your touch. Her father was dead. The king was no more. Now, the question of who would sit the throne lay in your hands—and hers.

The doors of the throne room creaked open, and the familiar figures of Otto Hightower and his family entered, their presence like a blight in the sanctity of the space. Otto moved ahead of his daughter, his face a mask of arrogance and calculation, but you caught the flicker of fear behind his eyes.

Rhaenyra’s voice was the first to break the silence. “You came, Lord Hightower,” she said, her voice steady, though there was a steel edge to it that made Otto flinch. “I would have thought you’d fled the city by now.”

Otto stiffened at the words, his jaw tightening. “Princess, I have no reason to flee. My loyalty to the crown is unwavering.”

Your lips twitched at the lie. His loyalty was to himself and his ambitions, not the crown that was now rightfully Rhaenyra’s. You stepped forward, your presence alone drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. Even Alicent, her face pale and strained, couldn’t help but watch you with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"Your loyalty," you began, your voice like velvet laced with venom, "is to power, Lord Hightower. But now that power no longer serves you." You turned your gaze to Alicent, her emerald eyes wide, and something in your expression softened. “The time has come for you and your family to depart. You are no longer welcome in this court.”

Otto bristled, the defiance rising in his posture even as his eyes darted to the door, calculating an exit. “You have no right to order—”

“I have every right,” you cut him off sharply, your tone leaving no room for argument. The tension in the room was thick, and you could see the lords and ladies who had gathered watching in silent anticipation, waiting to see who would come out on top. “King Viserys is dead, and his daughter, the rightful heir, will take her place on the Iron Throne. Any who oppose this will face the consequences.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Otto’s eyes flickered to Rhaenyra, who stood tall beside you, her chin raised, her gaze unwavering. Alicent, however, faltered, her hands trembling slightly as she stepped closer to her father.

A thin smile spread across Otto’s lips, but it was brittle, empty. “As you wish,” he said, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of mock humility. “We shall leave. But mark my words, your reign will not last. The realm will not bend to blood mages and tyrants.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Be careful with your words, Otto. You might not live long enough to regret them.”

He said nothing more, merely turning on his heel and moving toward the door, Alicent trailing behind him, her face a mask of grief and confusion. She spared a glance back at Rhaenyra, her eyes pleading, but Rhaenyra only looked away, her lips pressed into a tight line. This was not a moment for forgiveness. Not now. Not yet.

As the Hightowers left the throne room, the air seemed to lighten, the oppressive weight of their presence lifting from the space. You felt the shift, the change in the atmosphere as if the Red Keep itself had been cleansed of a lingering poison.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath beside you, her eyes flicking to the Iron Throne. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, her steps slow, deliberate. The sound of her boots against the stone echoed through the hall as she ascended the steps to the throne.

You watched her, your heart swelling with something fierce and protective as she stood before the jagged blades. Her hand hovered over the armrest, her fingers brushing against the cool metal. The room was deathly quiet, every eye on her as she finally sat, her back straight, her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

Rhaenyra was queen now.

The throne was hers.

She looked down at you from her seat, her expression one of determination and quiet resolve. “It’s done,” she said softly, almost to herself.

You moved toward her, stopping just before the base of the throne, your gaze meeting hers. “Yes, my queen,” you said, your voice low, full of meaning. “It is done. The realm is yours.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you recognized. This was not a victory without cost. Her father was gone, the kingdom in chaos, and now, the weight of the crown sat heavy on her brow. But she was not alone. You were here, by her side, as you always had been.

She extended her hand to you, and without hesitation, you took it, feeling the warmth of her fingers entwining with yours. Together, you would face the storm that was to come. You would fight the battles, win the wars, and claim the throne that was rightfully hers.

The sky above King’s Landing burned in twilight hues, a deep purple slowly fading into inky blackness as your banners soared high above the city’s towers. The sigil of House Tyvarella—an ancient dragon coiled in blood-red against a silver field—flew proudly, fluttering in the wind alongside the banners of House Targaryen. The people of the city, already fearful of dragons, now cowered at the whispered tales of your house. Blood mages, they called you, legends spun in fear of your ancient knowledge and forbidden power. Now, those stories had come to life.

The Iron Throne was yours. Rhaenyra sat beside you, your hands interlaced, both of you adorned in the regal splendor of queens. The throne room, once filled with men bowing to the old ways, now echoed with the cadence of new voices, your court and Rhaenyra’s mingling, forming a single, unbroken chain of power.

The customs of House Tyvarella had taken root here quickly, with no room for hesitation. The Faith of the Seven recoiled in horror, their prayers falling on deaf ears as the old gods of Valyria seemed to return, reclaiming their dominion. Your courtiers, clad in robes of black and crimson, mingled with the nobles of Westeros, their violet eyes cutting through the chamber like blades.

The throne room itself had undergone a transformation. Candles of black wax lined the walls, casting long, eerie shadows that danced with every flicker of flame. Ornate carvings of dragons and strange runes, symbols of your house’s ancient magic, were etched into the stone. The scent of incense filled the air, thick and heady, adding to the surreal atmosphere.

Beside you, Rhaenyra looked every bit the queen she was born to be. She was adorned in a gown of black silk and silver thread, embroidered with dragons that curled up her arms and across her chest. Her crown, forged anew in the fires of Dragonstone, rested elegantly upon her head, a symbol of her power and your shared reign. She turned to you, her violet eyes softening at the sight of you at her side, a private smile tugging at her lips.

“We’ve done it,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only you could hear. There was both relief and steel in her tone, a mix of triumph and anticipation for what was to come.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady but charged with the weight of what lay ahead. “But this is only the beginning.”

A ripple of unease spread through the gathered lords and ladies of the realm as your High Priestess entered the room. Her face was hidden behind a mask of silver and obsidian, a remnant of your house’s ancient customs, and her robes were deep crimson, symbolizing the blood ties that bound your people to the dragons. She carried a chalice in her hands, filled to the brim with the sacred elixir used in your rituals—a mix of dragon’s blood and the essence of life itself.

The courtiers of Westeros, many of them still sworn to the Faith of the Seven, watched with barely concealed terror as your High Priestess moved silently through the room. No one dared to speak out, not with you and Rhaenyra sitting upon the Iron Throne, ruling as queens. They feared you both—Rhaenyra for her dragons, you for your magic, for the strange customs that had already begun to take hold of the capital.

“Do they fear us, or the power we wield?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice carrying a note of amusement.

“Both,” you answered, watching as the High Priestess stood before the throne, bowing her head in respect.

“We have prepared the sanctum, Your Graces,” she said in a voice that echoed through the chamber like a distant storm. “The rites are ready.”

You nodded in approval, knowing that this ritual would solidify your power over the capital. Your house’s customs had always been entwined with blood and magic, and this would be no different. The people of King’s Landing needed to understand who ruled them now—not just dragons, but the ancient blood magic of Old Valyria.

“Let it be done,” you declared, your voice ringing out with finality.

The High Priestess stepped forward, offering the chalice first to you. You took it in your hands, feeling the warmth of the liquid inside, the faint pulse of power that coursed through it. It was tradition—an ancient rite that bonded ruler to land, to dragon, to blood. You raised the chalice to your lips, drinking deeply, feeling the rush of heat spread through your veins, as if the very essence of your ancestors had come alive inside you.

You handed the chalice to Rhaenyra, who hesitated for only a moment before taking it. She met your gaze, and there was something unspoken between you—a bond that transcended words, a shared destiny. She drank, and when she lowered the chalice, her eyes gleamed with a fire that had always been there, but now seemed brighter, fiercer.

The High Priestess stepped back, her role complete, as murmurs spread through the room. The lords and ladies of Westeros looked on in awe, fear, and something bordering on reverence. They had never seen anything like this before. The Faith of the Seven had no place here, not anymore.

“You are bound now,” the High Priestess intoned, her voice heavy with meaning. “To each other, to this throne, to the dragons that rule the skies. The blood of Old Valyria flows through you both, and through that blood, you will reign.”

Rhaenyra stood, her hand still entwined with yours, and together you faced the gathered crowd.

“Let it be known,” she said, her voice ringing clear and strong through the hall, “that King’s Landing is under our rule. The dragons of House Targaryen and the blood of House Tyvarella will bring forth a new age. Those who kneel will find their place in the new order. Those who do not…”

You took a step forward, your gaze sweeping across the room, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. “Will burn.”

The lords and ladies, cowed and uncertain, knelt. One by one, they bent the knee, some more reluctantly than others, but all of them yielding to the power you and Rhaenyra now held. There was no room for dissent in the face of such overwhelming force.

The last to kneel was Ser Otto Hightower, his face a mask of bitterness. His daughter, Alicent, was nowhere to be seen—likely confined to her chambers as you had commanded. Otto’s knees touched the stone floor, though his head remained high, his gaze defiant. But even he could not oppose you now. His time was over.

“Your reign begins,” Otto said, his voice thick with resentment. “But mark my words—every reign comes to an end.”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenyra replied coolly, her hand still gripping yours as though drawing strength from your presence. “But it will not be by your hand.”

The throne room was yours now, filled with the echoes of those who had once ruled and fallen. You and Rhaenyra, bound by blood, magic, and fire, would forge a new path—one that would reshape Westeros and bend the realm to your will.

And so, with the city kneeling before you, with dragons in the sky and blood in the air, your reign began. Two queens, ruling as one.

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia Au / Good luck while running away from mafia part 3

Intro , part 0.5 , part 1 , part 2 , part 4 , part 5

Tags: @morokumi , @hrhqueenfox , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m , @cecilebutcher , @ayachansan , @reveihehe , @sfxtiebee , @roseapov , @twst-eeps , @loivre , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red, @wonderlandcrown

Note: Haha it’s been a long time… ((￣∇￣) how are you guys? I didn’t liked this post maybe edit it later

Warnings: bad English and writing , gn reader, kidnapping, yandere, curse, blood, character injury…

2 years ago

“Agh! At this rate, I will die from overwork!”

You whined.

You were indebted to Azul because you forgot the day you were supposed to meet Azul last week and wasted his precious time.

He wanted you to check all the financial records of the mafia to pay off his debt, but according to you, he just wanted to torture you.

You had been examining all the financial records of the mafia in Monstro Lounge for the last three days, even checking till the time when Crewel Sensei was the executive.

“I want to cry, why am I looking at financial records from 10 years ago?”

You whined, hit your head on the table and sighed deeply.

You glanced at the records out of the corner of your eye… Saw the same word: “Ramshackle” . That name again. This name kept coming up since you started reviewing the records 7 years ago. The money transfer to “Ramshackle” was quite large. Almost as much as a division.

You've been in the mafia for about 4 years, but you've never heard of this name. Strange.

“I see you are working hard.”

You were startled by the voice you heard. You saw the silver haired executive leaning against to the side of the door staring at you with a satisfied smirk.

“Azul-san, you are back sir.”

You straightened up. You didn’t wanted to look like you’re slacking. Last time because you slacked he made you work till death for a week that felt like years in Monstro Lounge.

He looked at the paperworks that you were dealing with.

“I see you have worked hard, you deserve a short break right?”

-

“I swear I will never forget you again.”

You sweared while drinking the tea prepared by Jade. The ice tea made you forget the war you had with paperworks.

“Looks like Y/N-san had a hard time, hmm?”

Jade said as he placed the snacks in front of you.

“Shrimpy, you looked so funny among those piles of papers. Maybe you should forget Azul more~”

said Floyd while eating one of the biscuits on the plate.

You gulped. This was definitely something you would never do again. You didn’t wanted to return to that room.

While chatting with them your mind went to that name again: Ramshackle.

“Azul-san, I want to ask you something.”

You hoped that he knew something about it.

Azul nodded in agreement. “Go on.”

“I wonder what Ramshackle is? So is it someone or an organization? This name was mentioned frequently in financial records. “

Man with glasses took a sip from the tea before answering.

“I don't know. That name was on the records before I became a executive. And from the moment I was in charge of finance I never heard that name . So I don’t know .”

-

Current time

A full week. This chase had been going on for exactly a week. You were officially a fugitive.

You opened the glove compartment. Your food could last you another day at most, but your water was already finished. You sighed, you had to go to the grocery store. You took some cash and your gun. Wore your mask and got of from the car. Praying to not get caught.

…

You were in line at the register with two bottles of water and two sandwiches. The line was very slow for some reason, barely moving at all.

Then you felt someone's eyes on you. No, they couldn't have found you. Then a hand touched your shoulder. You suddenly turned around and turned away the hand that touched you. However, you looked at the owner of the hand in surprise.

“Alex?”

You looked at your former co-worker from the cafe in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

You said as you released his hand. Meanwhile you got some peoples attention because of your action.

“Nice to see you too, Yuu. Where have you been? I haven't heard from you since that commotion at the cafe. You made me very worried.” said the young man while rubbing his hand that you caught a moment ago.

"Nevermind." You didn't want to waste time on unnecessary conversations. You just wanted to get out of here.

“You really are annoying as always. Even though I was so worried about you. You owe me "

Alex said.

You didn't reply. You thought about not getting carried away just because you were talking to Alex. You were lost in thoughts but you came to your senses with Alex’s shout.

“Hey! Let's go to the cafe.”

Alex said while fiddling with his phone.

"I'm busy."

You didn’t had time to waste and didn’t wanted to be in public. But Alex insisted.

“Come on, look just 15 minutes okay or I'll throw a Tantrum in this crowd.”

You stared at him with disappointment . If You knew Alex, he would do this. He was the type of person who would do anything to get what he wanted. Because of this behavior of his he would always argue with other co-workers only you could deal with him. Because he was just not dangerous version of your ex bosses

You agreed with a sigh.

-

“Hey, do you have a lover or something? You're constantly on the phone." You said while stared at Alex with those judgmental eyes.

He brought you to a local cafe which is quite crowded for you. Now you two were waiting for your orders.

“You insisted me to came here yet always on the phone.”

“Uh, no… I'm just waiting for an important call.”

replied the young man.

You looked at Alex suspiciously. He was uneasy. Something didn't feel right. You shaked your head. He was just a civilian. You were just nervous because of recent events.

You started watch outside of the window. A cat purring on it’s owner lap and the owner reading a book while stroking the cat. The owner of the cat was talking to another man. Quite muscular man was sitting in front of the cats owner talking about something excitedly.

Then you saw a black car parking. With Seeing the person in the backseat you panicked. You were found out.

“No way,” you whispered. You straightened up.

"Uh, what's the problem?" Alex said. Caught your hand.

"I have to go. We'll meet another time." You said, trying to pull your hand away but Alex tightened his grip.

"No. Remain. You should remain.” He said with a guilty yet insistent voice.

Your eyes grew with realization.

“It was you…You were the one who exposed me. You knowingly changed your working days on the night of the attack. You purposely came to work with me that day…"

Alex looked at you with a guilty expression. You pulled your hand away and quickly ran for the exit, but you were blocked by a familiar person. Those here heterochromic eyes… Those eyes that you were scared of eyes. Eyes of a hunters.

“It's been a long time Shrimpy~”

He grabbed your wrists before you could respond. It was impossible to escape Floyd's grip. You struggled but it didn’t help.

“Don’t use your energy on it. No use.”

You heard that mocking familiar voice.Then you saw the second brother. The carbon copy of Floyd. Jade just grinned when he saw your situation. Then he turned to someone else .

“Thank you for your service Mr. Alex. As we talked about, the fee will be delivered to you within the day tomorrow.” said Jade in a gentlemanly manner.

Then he turned to you.

“Now, Azul is waiting for us in the car. Let's not keep him waiting too long, hmm. But first-“

He took the gun you hid behind your back.

“Toys are prohibited”

-

You were put into the backseat of the black vehicle you just saw. Seated between Jade and Azul. You felt so numb so drowning. Is this how you were ending up…

Azul looked at you, pleased with the situation.

"You were going to get caught eventually, was it worth the effort?" he mocked you.

You didn't reply. You just watched out the window with lost in thoughts.

…

They brought you to a place that looked like Monstro Lounge in the city. It was probably newly opened. You were brought to one of the back rooms, the kind where Azul would hold his private conversations. They made you sit on a chair.Your hands and feet were tied to a comfortable chair. You didn’t strike back.

“Hey , it’s not like I can do something .”

You said calmly while getting tied.

“I'm sorry Y/N but you know ,safety precautions.”

Jade said in a not at all sad tone as he tied you up.

“You're hungry, aren't you? You probably didn't eat properly while you were running away. Jade, can you please bring our angelfish something to eat and Floyd, can you please bring some clean clothes? I can’t believe you wear this stuff as clothes." Azul nagged.

“Why, I want to spend time with shirmpy too.” Floyd whined, but eventually he left with Jade.

After Floyd and Jade left, only you and Azul were left in the room.

There was silence in the room. A tense silence.The silver haired man happily walked towards you.

“You acted really stupid, my angelfish. I don't even understand why you ran away in the first place. After all, everything was perfect wasn’t it. We were at peace. Why did you do?"

He leaned towards you. There were only inches between you.

You stared at him with empty eyes for a minute with silence.

“You all know the answer, but you all act like you don’t .”

You spoke.

Azul grinned.

“İdia said you ran away because you learned everything, but even if you did, we are not guilty. It's you." He said, leaning towards your face.

You gritted your teeth. Turned your head around. He was too close. You looked away. Luckily, Jade walked in just in time with a tray of food.

“Oh right on time Jade.”

Jade came to the room with a silver tray of dinner.

“Today’s menu is Cold poached salmon. As for beverage water. Sorry couldn’t get anything else you see… Then Bon Appetite.”

Then he bent over.

Azul cut a piece and turned to you. He held the fork to your mouth. You looked at him sternly.

"You eat first. Who knows what you put in it.”

Azul grinned at your answer.

"Okey." He put the morsel into his mouth.

You watched as he slowly chewed the morsel and then swallowed it. And he cut another piece.

“Say aaaah”

And you ate the second piece he cut off.

-

Azul and Jade left for an emergency meeting, and you were left in Floyd's custody, but he had just gone to the bathroom.

You sighed deeply. They would probably take you to main place tomorrow.

Suddenly strange sounds started coming from outside.

Then the voices stopped and the door opened.

“Sam-san?!”

You said in surprise.

“Your prince charming has come to take you out of here.” grinned Sam.

"But how?"

"You talk too much. We don't have much time. “ Sam said as he untied you.

“Here, take this gun. By the way, there are only three bullets inside, just so you know. And some cash.”

He put the gun in your hand.

"Why?” you asked again. Why was Sam helping you?

He just smiled. “Hurry up or you won't be able to escape. Now our paths part again. Don't get caught again. I don't think I can save you again."

You looked at him for a second. Then you ran, you ran with all your might.

“Stay where you are!”

You turned around when you heard the familiar voice. Floyd was looking at you with his gun drawn. It was obvious that he was angry.

“Why are you running away, Shrimpy? I just found you...I don't want to play chase with you anymore!”

He pointed his gun at you threateningly.

You didn't reply.

You saw Sam behind Floyd. It's okay... You had nothing to lose anymore. You turned around and ran towards the exit.

The sound of the trigger rang in your ears. A strange pain in your shoulder. Ah Floyd shot you in the shoulder. But that wasn't enough to stop you, you continued running.

This is the first time you've acted foolishly. But you were saved.

-

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the former Pormefiore manager to the masked man.

“I don't know what you mean, I just wanted to drink wine.” The masked man said playfully, pouring his blood red wine into the glass.

“You sent Sam!” Crewel slammed his hand on the table.

“Hmm maybe,” Dire Crowley grinned.

“What are you planning?”

“Oh Crewel, my old friend, let's just say I want to win the bet we made. You know, I don't like to lose."

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: Ghost travels to the small country of Stuoca to meet the person assigned to guard for the next month. When you lay your eyes on him, you can’t help but feel scared, yet also curious. He feels the same when encountering such a precious, fragile thing like you.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7

The porcelain teacup felt warm in your hands, holding your favorite blend of tea flavored to your preference. The grandfather clock in the room ticked by, filling the silence. While you normally liked to play some music to fill the space with sound, your parents told you that you must be quiet. That you had to sit pretty and be patient until you were allowed to do so. 

You stared into your cup, slowly losing your appetite for teatime as the pit in your stomach grew bigger. You felt like there was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Normally, your parents were eager to show you off to any guest that was coming to the palace. Right now, it is different. You were locked away in one of the many palace studies. There was your butler with you who watched your worries grow. There were a couple of guards outside the closed doors, stopping anyone from entering unless the king or queen allowed it. 

Looking out the arched window and overlooking the lush palace garden, you wished you could enjoy your teatime outside like you normally did. Feeling the fresh air, hearing the birds chirp in the distance, enjoying the subtle aroma of flowers flowing with the wind. It was really the only time you were allowed to be outside. 

Even though you were a grown woman, your parents have always seen you as their little princess.

While you sat silently in the study, the king and queen of Stuoca was meeting the man that would guard you with his life. It was jarring being in a place like this. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was crafted with exquisite, polished stone. Anything made of wood was a rich cherry. On marble pedestals along the halls held works of art behind glass. Jewelry, crowns, busts. Golden chandeliers with crystals reflecting the light hung from the ceilings that were painted with angels. 

Everything in the palace was worth billions upon billions of dollars. Standing in the middle of it all was Ghost, a man that once was just scraping by in his younger days. He still stood out like a sore thumb among it all. The skull balaclava secured over his head, tattoos revealed on his forearm, the black t-shirt that clung tight to his muscles. It was like death himself walked the bright palace halls. 

“Pardon me, Lieutenant Ghost, but you don’t have to wear that mask here, do you?” The queen, your mother, nervously addressed from her red velvet seat. The mask was making her scared. That was how people normally reacted when they saw him for the first time.

“Yes I do, your majesty.” He curtly responded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ghost was just as uncomfortable as your parents were. When he heard that he was being deployed to guard a princess, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. But now, here he was being served tea and cookies with the king and queen of Stuoca. As much as being on base was a pain in the ass at times, he missed it. 

The king cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea from his teacup. When they reached out to the United States for a bodyguard, they weren’t expecting someone so. . . rough to be sent out. But, if this was the right man for the job, then so be it. As long as his princess was safe. “Thank you for traveling so far away from home in order to help us with our problem. Being a country so small, we weren’t even sure if your country would even bat an eye at us.”

Ghost shifted on the balls of his feet, growing more uncomfortable with the sudden gratitude. He just wanted to start the job already. The sooner he starts, the sooner he can end it. “You said that you’ve received threats. Anything else happened while I was busy traveling here?”

With a snap of the king’s fingers, a maid came over and presented an opened envelope. Ghost quirked a brow under his mask as he took it. Opening it revealed the original letter that was reported to Laswell. The one that he’s already seen with his 141 team. Handwritten, black ink, very articulated. The letter detailed how the royal family would burn down along with their palace. That the princess will be kidnapped and tortured if they didn’t get what they wanted, which was power to control the country. 

Ghost sighed, feeling like he got the short end of the stick on this mission. The entire 141 was working on this case. However, Ghost was the one stuck with babysitting duty while the rest of the guys got to experience all of the action. They were off investigating while he was sitting on a velvet couch in the grandest office he has ever seen. 

“That’s all we have for now to physically show you. The only other concern is the graffiti that has been popping up around the city.” The king explained calmly as a different maid brought over a manilla folder full of pictures. Pictures depicted a graffiti crow on various different buildings. They weren’t murals, but the symbols were prominent enough to be noticed. 

“A crow is a symbol of misfortune and death. A bad omen, wouldn’t you agree?” The queen spoke up, taking a slow sip of her tea as she tried to read the lieutenant’s reaction. It was impossible to do so with his mask. 

“Where is the princess right now?” He inquired. It seemed odd that you didn’t come in with your parents. He figured that they would want you right by their side at all times if they were really concerned about the threats. 

The king and queen stood as if on a cue. The king gestured for Ghost to do the same. “Our daughter is in one of the studies waiting to meet you. For her sake, please refrain from bringing up the letter and graffiti. We don’t want to startle her more than what has already been done.”

Ghost gave a curt nod before following your parents to the study where you stayed. The way they spoke about you, you seemed more like a caged bird rather than their beloved daughter. It unsettled the lieutenant, but perhaps it was just the consequence of formality. They wouldn’t have reached out to the United States for help if they didn’t care after all.

Once they approached the door, the guards saluted and opened it up. Beyond the doors was the most ornate office Ghost has ever seen. Once his eyes settled on you, you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Every hair on your head was in place with the help of maids. There were no wrinkles in your dress and no stains in sight. Your makeup was light and only flattered your features. The gems on your necklace complimented your bright eyes. Ghost was almost at a loss for words. When you stood up and curtsied to greet them, he could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“Good evening.” You simply greeted, your tone polite as ever as a princess should be. 

“Sweetheart, this is going to be your personal bodyguard from now on. He’s going to keep you safe, no matter where you go. Isn’t that wonderful?” Your mother gave a sickly sweet smile, her efforts to meet the status quo seeming a little more forced as she interacted with you.

You definitely knew that something was wrong now. You may have been a confined princess, but you weren’t stupid. However, you decided to refrain from asking what the trouble was. It wasn’t appropriate. Not with your parents watching you.

For now, you focused on the news that you were now going to have a bodyguard. Your eyes shifted towards the large man. Muscles clearly defined under his shirt, posture straight and strong, mask hiding his identity. Compared to him, you were much smaller and much weaker. It intimidated you a bit. It made you hesitant to accept him. However, there were expectations to meet, regardless of how you truly felt.

“Princess Y/n. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You softly spoke as you gave another sweet curtsy towards him. 

He quirked a brow. You were taking this awfully well. A part of him expected some more push-back. He honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat. Yet, here you were, taking everything in stride for now. You knew how to compose yourself better than he expected. “Lieutenant Ghost. I’ll be keeping you safe. For me to do that, there’s going to be some changes.”

You looked to your parents, looking for the explanation for this change. There was not even a bat of the eye as they faked their smiles. “You will still complete your studies as a princess should. Attend the parties as needed to keep up appearances as well.”

Ghost shook his head, authority taking over his baritone voice. “Negative. The princess will not be attending any more parties. Doing so could risk her safety.”

Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes widened at the news. A part of you, though, was celebrating. No more parties? Would your parents really accept this? The sudden shock on their faces morphed into strained smiles, telling you that they weren’t going to accept this so easily. The king cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, it is very important for the princess to still make appearances. It is essential for her.”

Ghost looked at you all of a sudden, wondering how you felt about this change compared to your parents’ obvious protest. You tried to remain unreadable, not wanting to set either party off with your personal opinion. If you had the choice, though, you would sacrifice the parties. They were more for your parents than they were for you anyway.

Ghost sighed in slight frustration. Normally, he was excellent at reading people. He did it all the time with new recruits, enemies, and his team. Their poker faces were nothing compared to yours. “One party if absolutely necessary. No longer than an hour. Just to keep up appearances.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your disappointment. Well, at least you weren’t expected to be present during the entirety of your parents’ showing off. “Understood, Lieutenant Ghost.”

At least your parents seemed happier with the compromise. Your mother grinned brightly. “Wonderful! Give him the princess’s schedule!”

Your butler hurried over and gave Ghost your schedule. He nearly stumbled back with how packed it was. Piano lessons, dance lessons, tea times, dress fittings, and independent study went on and on for pages and pages. Did you have any time to yourself besides sleep?

“The show must go on! If you have any questions or procedures to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out to us. We hope that you two get along well.” The queen concluded, eager to leave the room so that she could go on with her own daily life. The king followed close behind as they left the room, leaving you and your bodyguard to get to know each other.

You didn’t mind being civil, but you doubted that he would try to get to know you. He simply didn’t seem like the type to stray away from his responsibilities for anything. For now, you silently went back to your seat to finish up tea time. Ghost stood awkwardly for a moment before finding his own place to settle. Leaning against the stone wall, he examined you further.

The way you held your teacup was gentle. Your dress draped against your legs like a smooth waterfall. The way you looked out the window was melancholic. After a few minutes, you spoke up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Why are you my new bodyguard, Lieutenant Ghost?”

Ghost didn’t expect your question. He hardly even knew what you meant when you asked it. Still, he kept his cool as he dug further. It wasn’t like there was any malice in your tone. In fact, your tone was nothing but innocent. “What do you mean? Are you asking me why I took the job?”

You shook your head, staring into your teacup once again as you got a little shy. Lieutenant Ghost wouldn’t report your conversations to your parents, would he? But, you had to know. “Is my life in serious danger?”

Behind the mask, Ghost’s mouth was partially opened with shock. His body grew tense as he realized what was really going on. “They haven’t told you, have they?”

“My parents can be. . . protective. Their priority to maintain normalcy can cause them to make certain judgments in regards to my life.” You subtly worded, fearing that the guards outside were listening to what you were saying. Hopefully, Ghost would understand what you meant.

Thankfully, he did. Now more than before, you really did seem like a caged bird. You deserve the truth. “Your parents received a threatening letter from a terrorist organization. They seem to be after your life in order to manipulate your parents. I serve under Task Force 141 that specializes in missions like this. The rest of my team is investigating the organization while I am to protect you personally.”

Your grip around your teacup tightened slightly as you learned the truth. It seemed that your intuition was correct. This was a serious problem. You swallowed your new fears down hard before proceeding as normal. “Thank you for your honesty, Lieutenant.”

Ghost sympathized with you as he finally saw a shred of how you really felt about this entire situation. His perception of who he was protecting was completely wrong. You were no brat or clueless royalty with too much time and money on your precious princess hands. You were sharp. You were polite. You were obedient. It made him want to know the real you.

He knew that he shouldn’t get closer than what was necessary. Yet, the anxious look in your beautiful eyes as you stared out the window made him want to provide you with some comfort. Some way to break the ice while also doing his job. He opted for a simple conversation about your daily schedule. “What’s independent study for you?”

“It’s my time to study what I wish within reason. Any subject that I may find interesting as long as it is appropriate for a princess.” You delicately explained, putting everything as nice as possible.

All Ghost heard was that you were restricted from real knowledge. However, it wasn’t his place to make a comment on it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t find it fair. You were a princess and you obviously took your responsibilities, fair or not, seriously. He gave a simple hum in acknowledgment for the time being on that matter. “What are you studying?”

You looked at Ghost curiously, wondering how much of this was just workplace conversation and how much of this was genuine attempts at knowing you. The way Ghost looked at you with such resolute, cold eyes made you shiver. Something told you that this was his usual look. “I’m studying many things at the moment that would be proper for me to know.”

It seemed like subtle and vague answers were the only things he was going to get out of you, but he already picked up on the fact that you didn’t do this to be cold towards him. The tone you carried was careful. Gentle. You didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble. Simon knew what that was like.

The conversation was dropped for the time being. It seemed like your physical being wasn’t the only thing he had to protect. Your social reputation was at stake as well. Respecting that, he focused back on guarding you. Not without noticing every little thing about you though.

You stole glances at him every so often as well as you sipped your tea. The more you looked at him, the more he intrigued you. You’ve never had a guard that had his build. You’ve never even seen someone with tattoos in person before. He stood out against the pristine white around the palace. A shadow in the light. You were curious about what he looked like under the mask.

~

The rest of the night proceeded as normal save for your new shadow. You were ushered by your butler to your routine lessons, Ghost always close behind. He stayed silent throughout it all, but observant. You did feel like he was watching your every move. While you were used to being heavily monitored, having Ghost be the one observing you made you more nervous than normal. Music lessons, dance lessons, and studying didn’t go as smoothly as you made more mistakes under the pressure. For some reason, you wanted to impress him like you were one of his newest soldiers. 

Ghost thought nothing of it as you did what you had to do. In reality, he found your abilities to be quite impressive, mistakes or not. He did chalk it up to him being an intimidating presence. Despite it, he could tell that you were skilled. 

When bedtime rolled around, he followed into your room. A grand room with a king, white canopy bed, cherry-wood antique furniture, and large, arched windows leading to a balcony. The windows were the second problem that Ghost needed to address if he wanted to keep you safe. “You can’t sleep in here. It would be too easy to-”

Meeting your eyes made him pause. You waited patiently for him to finish as he was going to say, prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that the next change would be as smooth as possible. Looking at you, though, Ghost saw a pretty woman that he needed to be more gentle towards. Less explicit in language. You were already afraid for your life. He didn’t want to make that anxiety worse for you.

“Is there another room in the palace that has less open windows?” He asked cautiously, minding his words this time. 

You appreciated his careful consideration, feeling more and more safe with him as he made decisions to protect you. “I believe there is. I can sleep there tonight.”

He followed you to another room in the palace that was away from any windows. He nearly sighed in relief as the new bedroom was windowless, smaller, and much more comfortable to be in. The bed was still massive and the antique furniture was polished, but the warmer palette of the decor made the room feel less like a museum display. 

You felt better too as you looked around the cozy room. The windows in your usual bedroom just reminded you of what you couldn’t have. Though, your anxiety grew as you realized that Ghost was still within the room. Your cheeks grew a subtle pink as you chose your words with precision. “I would like to get ready for bed. Is it necessary for you to be here while I do?”

“Well. . .” Ghost thought carefully, trying to make the best decision here. After a few seconds, he determined that you needed your privacy. He was already invading it enough by being your personal bodyguard. With an accepting, silent nod, he stepped out of the room while you changed into pajamas. A few maid staff passed by, gawking at the lieutenant. A glare was enough to have them scurry on their way.

While you changed, you thought about Ghost. About his real personality, his job, his friends. What kind of work does he normally do? Has he ever killed someone? It certainly seemed like he’s gotten into his fair share of fights from the scars you have seen on his arms. Was he dreading this job? At times, you thought that you could see him get antsy while waiting for you. You probably wouldn’t like waiting on a princess either if you were in his shoes. 

Once you were changed into your silky pajamas, you knocked on the door. “Lieutenant? I’m all dressed. You could come in now.”

Swiftly, he came in. For a second, he admired the way you looked in your pajamas. You looked so much more comfortable. The way you were letting down your hair in front of the vanity had him gulp too. “I won’t be watching you sleep all night. Just until you fall asleep, and then I’ll wait outside the door.”

“What about your sleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. The way his arms were crossed over his broad chest made you shrink within yourself a bit. 

“I’m used to not sleeping. I don’t usually sleep well either. Don’t worry about me, princess.” He responded bluntly, putting some more personal distance between the two of you. He would be lying if your concern over his own time didn’t make him melt a little though. 

“I see. My apologies, but I am unsure that I will be able to fall asleep quickly tonight. You might be waiting for a while.” You honestly admitted, feeling the anxious pit in your stomach begin to swallow you like a blackhole. You already felt enough like a burden to the maids and butlers with how strictly your parents had them wait on you. 

Ghost shook his head, noticing how lightly you scrunch your brows in concern. How you nervously bit a tiny part of your bottom lip. Subtle behaviors that no one would notice if they weren’t truly paying attention. You were so different from what he was expecting when he was first told that he would be guarding a princess. “It’s fine. This is my job.”

You turned away from your reflection in the mirror to look at Ghost. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how blue his eyes were. Such a deep, oceanic blue that held so many secrets. He stared right back at you, noticing how your worries couldn’t be quelled with just two simple sentences. Finally, he was able to read you.

“If it will help, you can talk to me until you fall asleep. Anything you want. I promise that I won’t tell the king and queen.” He offered, taking a seat on the Victorian-styled couch that was at the foot of the bed. 

His offer came as a complete surprise to you. You didn’t expect him to be so kind. You have learned long ago that there was a difference between being civil and genuinely kind. Ghost was being nice, which felt like a rarity given his outward personality. Quickly, you finished getting ready for bed. Once you were cozy underneath the cotton covers, Ghost turned off the main light. The small lamp on your nightstand stayed on, allowing a comfortable dim to illuminate the otherwise dark room.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you tried to think about what to talk about. There was still a fear in you that he would tell your parents, but Ghost didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Besides that, you never really talked about yourself before. No one has ever been interested in what you liked and disliked. Not that you had a lot of experiences with how your parents kept you in the palace and filtered what you could learn. However, that wasn’t to say that you were curious enough to find a way to learn anyways. At the very least, you had plenty of questions about the outside. 

“For my independent study, I am focusing on classicism art. At least. . . that is what my parents think. I. . . I have been studying other things in secret. My handmaiden sneaks new books into the library for me sometimes if she can.” You confessed, feeling a weight of your chest as you admitted your truth. You didn’t like lying and sneaking around in secret. While you loved new knowledge, you still carried that weight with you.

Ghost listened carefully to your confession. His back was turned towards you, a comfortable thing for you since you weren’t keen on the idea of someone watching you fall asleep. It was enough for him to just sit at the foot of your bed. 

“What new books have you read?” He inquired, wondering what sorts of books a princess could possibly want to read in secret. 

You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you admitted more of your secrets. Without interruption, he let you speak. He listened to your voice that lowered into a pleasant whisper when you told him about all the books you were reading and wanted to read. A couple of times, he couldn’t help but crack a smirk at some of your opinions that were refreshingly assertive. 

It didn’t take long for him to hear you start dozing. It started with quieter words morphing into sweet slurs. As soon as he heard your steady, deep breaths, he silently got up and left the room. Standing guard in front of the door, he contacted his team by phone to give an update. 

“Lieutenant, how is she?” Captain Price cut to the chase, his voice low as he investigated matters on his side.

“She’s. . .” Ghost began before trailing off. He had to think about the right words to use. 

“She's a spoiled rotten princess?” Another voice came through. The chuckle was no doubt Soap.

“Honestly, no. She’s a princess, but she’s anything but rotten.” He finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet since the halls seemed to echo. 

There was another laugh before the captain cleared his throat, regaining authority. “I’m glad that she is much more pleasant to deal with than what was expected. Just be careful not to get too personal. I know you will be around each other a lot, but the mission is our priority.”

“Of course, Captain.” Ghost promised, wondering if this particular promise would be easy to keep or not. 

[haikyu-mp4]

Catching feelings, part 2

word count; 761 – f!reader, read part 1 first for the best experience

The game was amazing, you had no idea volleyball could be this exhilarating! You had cheered your heart out, and even though you didn’t know many proper volleyball terms, you quickly caught onto the nice receive!!

As you descended the stairs once the game finished, you looked around for the sign that led towards where Sakusa said he would meet you. There was a slight skip in your step as you were still so pumped up from the game, excusing yourself from anyone you had to push past.

“Sakusa!” you called out when you finally emerged from the crowd, spotting him in a far corner at the end of a less crowded hallway. “You were amazing!”

You were greeted with the familiar blush on his cheeks as he huffed stubbornly. He hadn’t put on a mask after the game, probably coming right over to meet you, so you took a moment to appreciate his full face in real life instead of on the metro ad. “Thank you.”

It looked like he was about to say something else, presumably letting you know he just needed to shower and would meet you outside, but his shoulders shot straight up at the sound of an agitating voice. “Oh my gosh, it’s Sakusa’s girlfriend!” Hinata yelled, before speeding over to greet you. You pulled the mask up on your cheeks but smiled at his excitement.

“She’s not-” but Sakusa’s low voice didn’t stand a chance against Hinata’s selective hearing. He was just thankful Bokuto and Atsumu were already headed to the showers.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” he said, jumping up and down like a star. “You’re really pretty! Did you like the game? Did you see my last spike? I didn’t even think I could pull that off, honestly. It just went woosh and I had to do a wham, didn’t think it would go in at all!”

Sakusa blinked in disbelief, wondering what he could have done to deserve this intrusion, but then his eyes shifted to you and how your eyes crinkled with mirth as you nodded along to everything. One might say it made him feel… warm.

“I did see that, you played so well!” you said, clapping your hands a little to emphasise. Then you held your hand beside your mouth as if to hide your next words from Sakusa, even though you said it loud enough for him to hear. “I was mostly looking at this one though,” you half-whispered, nodding your head towards Sakusa.

Hinata giggled, patting Sakusa’s arm harshly, which made him coil away and accidentally bump into you instead. At this point, he could have qualified for a fever with how his cheeks burned. “That’s enough of you two, you-” Sakusa pointed at Hinata, then over his shoulder. “Go clean up. You-” He turned to face you, but his face was slightly tilted downwards to hide behind his curls. “Please wait for me here, and if you see someone else from my team, do not engage.”

You held your hand up like a soldier to salute him, making him shake his head and walk away so you couldn’t see the fond look on his face. I thought the black jackals would be the death of me, but she might get to it first.

When Sakusa came back out, surprisingly fast, you tried to focus on what he said even though he smelled so nice. “Huh?”

“Should we go? There’s a nice restaurant close by,” he said, to which you nodded.

The two of you walked side by side outside into the fresh air. You kept glancing sideways at him and he would do the same, so when your eyes accidentally met, you’d quickly look back to the front. “That orange-haired guy was nice,” you said. “What’s his name?”

“Hinata,” he said sharply, wondering if you would mention the rest of that incident. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, walking a bit closer to him. “He said I was pretty,” you cooed in a childish tone.

“You are pretty,” Sakusa said, and you almost tripped over a tiny gravel rock from the surprise.

You eyed the side of his face, seeing how his ears lit up in red. “He said I was your girlfriend,” you continued with a leading tone, then chuckled when he huffed, which was a short laughter by his standards.

He glanced down at your hand, wondering if he should hold it but deciding against it for now, settling with giving you a little smile instead. “We’ll see about that.”

masterlist

//wanna thank @cottonlemonade for inspiring me to write a part 2 and thinking up Hinata's rant<3

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? (Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader x Ghostface! Peter B Parker) Part 1

RAAAAA! Excited about this one! Based off this post. Inspired by this drawing from Andalusia_Lu on Tiktok. Not proofread. Tbh I’m kinda nervous about this one but…Enjoy! Also in this story MJ and Peter are just friends. This is probably the darkest think I’ve written.

(Y/N) - Your name.

NSFW!!, Cursing, use of alcohol, death, murder, yandere behavior, Reader has a bf who does die, violence, blood, said reader’s bf calls her derogatory remarks behind her back, religious imagery(I think???), stalking, male masturbation, invasion of privacy, reader being drugged, panty stealing, stalking, implied kidnapping, gore, cameras being placed in readers home without their knowledge, it’s a horror one shot so… you know what you’re walking into. Dead Dove Do not eat, MDNI!

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

October 31st, Halloween night. Also know as the night that gives college students an excuse to get fucked up while in a shit quality costume that cost 50 bucks at spirit Halloween.

That little rule you are not exempt from, that’s how you found yourself in a random college frat party at NYU, a bottle of beer in one hand, and your boyfriend’s in the other as you drag him through the crowd so you both can dance. The alcohol in your system made your whole body relaxed and your cheeks glow with a dash of red over them, your eyes half-lidded and your smile wide as you looked up at Daniel while Promiscuous from Nelly Furtado blasted through the house. You looked like an angel straight from heaven, although that might be due to your customer, being dressed up as Juliet from the 1996 movie, while your boyfriend was clattered in armor as Romeo. The costumes being your idea after having rewatched the movie a few weeks ago.

You both had lost the rest of your group in the crowd, Jess and MJ had said they were going to the kitchen while Miguel and Peter had said they were going outside to get fresh air but you haven’t seen them since, you wouldn't have extremely worried, if it wasn’t for the reason sightings of the ghostface killer that had been popping up on the news though. Sure maybe going to a party wasn’t the best idea either but you figured you would have been fine since you were going in a group, I mean, what wouldn’t you be okay? It’s not like an actual serial killer goes after a group of young adults who are all drunk right? But now you’ve lost 4 out of 6 people in said group. But maybe in the small chance you do get targeted, you should be able to stand a chance since your Daniel was always in the gym with Miguel, so he was pretty jacked (not as jacked as Miguel though but you’ll never say that out loud).

One song turned to two then to three, just like the beers in Daniel’s hand, you had slowed down so you could at least be sober enough to order a Lyft for when the night was over. Eventually you were whisked away from your boyfriend by MJ and Jess, thankful that they were still at the party and nothing happened to them.

“Hey, have you guys seen Peter or Miguel?” You shouted over the music after a while, Jess just shrugged, before MJ answered.

“They texted me that they found Daniel and he’s like, fucked up apparently.”

—

“Please!”

Stab.

“I don’t want to die! Please stop!”

Stab.

“I’ll give anything! Just don’t kill me!”

The begs and pleads become more desperate and sloppy with every second, the words slurring more together from the alcohol and the crimson red liquid dribbling out of Daniel's mouth. The sight was almost enough to make the two men feel pity. Almost.

“Anything?” The shorter one asked with an agonizingly slow head tilt, his voice altered from the voice changer attached to the plastic mask, signaling for the other to stop plugging the knife into their victim’s stomach. Despite not liking being told what to do, he dropped Daniel on the floor with a snarl. Daniel quickly retracted into a small ball, shaking arms going to cover his bloody wound with a groan and whimper.

“We want (Y/N).” If it weren't for him being in excruciating pain and bleeding out, Daniel would have thought they were joking, but the tone in which the words were spoken made his blood that was spilling out from his stomach and mouth run cold.

“W-what?” He asked as he tried to keep his breathing from becoming shallow and his head from becoming too dizzy, but he was failing miserably.

“You heard us. We. Want. (Y/N).” The larger one spoke this time. How badly, he wanted to emphasize each word with another stab, the knife in his hands twitched a bit as he tightened his grip on the black handle. He was itching for an excuse, but he’ll refrain.

For now.

Maybe it was the way he responded to a stressful situation, or maybe it was the lack of blood finally affecting his brain, but Daniel had the nerve to laugh. Fucking laugh. The laugh was breathy, and in between coughs and groans, causing Miguel and Peter to look at their prey like he was the crazy one. Rage filled their bodies when Daniel finally composed himself enough to talk again.

“Y-you can’t be serious? …Right? You-you’re gonna kill-kill me over some bitch?”

How fucking dare he.

How dare he speak about you like you were some random skank, like you were a pile of dirt. You were a fucking goddess, Miguel and Peter knew that, because they worshipped you like one. They didn’t see what you saw in Daniel, he didn’t deserve you, no one did, except Miguel and Peter, they would treat you better than any other man that roamed this stupid planet, and especially far better then the sorry excuse of a boyfriend that they had on the ground like he was a wounded animal.

For someone who was about to die, he sure had a lot of nerve.

He didn’t love you like they did, he didn’t know your every move like they did. They were like your real life guardian angels, always following behind you to make sure no one would harm so much as a hair on your pretty little head, and how lucky were they, that you were juuust oblivious enough that you don’t notice them, just enough to brush of your rummaged trash as raccoons, just enough that you didn’t noticed when a pair or two of your dirty panties go missing, you had too many to keep track of all of them anyways. Never knowing that one of the two would sneak into your apartment while you were asleep to grab them from your hamper, no matter which boy had decided to embark on their mission, both of them had to fight against the struggle to not stay and watch you sleep, fighting the urge to release their painful hard members and stroke while watching you sleep. They’d be lying to themselves if they said they haven’t lost the battle at least once before, biting into their free hand to stop any moans from escaping and waking you up, while they fist fuck their cocks with the other, but can you blame them?

They just loved you so much and you loved them too, you just haven’t realized it yet. How could you when that pest of a boyfriend of yours was pumping your head full of false thoughts? He didn’t love you like Peter and Miguel did. Sure Daniel might seem like he loved you so much, going as far as to get you flowers and gifts from time to time, but Miguel and Peter’s gifts they would give you were so much better, because these gifts were all given to you with the same purpose. To help them watch over you, make sure you were safe, strategically planning to make sure to eventually fill your entire home with cameras right under your adorable nose. The teddy bear that sits on your bed and the light up mirror over your bathroom sink were first of course.

Peter couldn’t help himself, with all of his force, he kicked Daniel right in the balls, causing him to curl up more in pain. Miguel was going to do the same when his phone pinged in his pocket, he quickly took it out and checked it, your name filling his screen made his heart skip a beat.

“It’s (Y/N). She’s asking where we are, and wants us to meet her at her apartment after she drops off Jess and MJ in 15 minutes.” Miguel mumbled as he looked down at his phone, before looking up at Peter then down at their prey on the ground. “She probably thinks we’re still with him, what should we do with him?”

Peter’s eyes followed Miguel’s gaze down to the half- conscious Daniel, silent as if thinking about what to say, or more likely what to do with him.

“We could leave him here for dead?” Peter suggested, but Miguel shook his head at the thought, too risky, they couldn’t have the chance of him being found by someone and taken to the hospital, that could ruin everything.

“You both… ar-are fucking psychotic! Killing me over some-some bitch who doesn’t eve-even give good fucking… fucking head!” Daniel yelled between coughs, more blood falling from his blue-turning lips, he looked like he had seen a ghost due to how pale he was becoming from the blood lost, and now he’s gonna become one. Miguel’s phone buzzed again, this time you only sent a single question mark, looking down at his phone.

“I want you to know that if I wasn’t about to be late to see you, I would beat this guy bloody, for the way he talks about you.” Miguel said out loud as if you could actually hear him, as if you were actually here to hear how true those words were, but instead Miguel raised his knife with one hand and grabbed Daniel’s hair with the other. Enjoying the way the Dani’s eyes widened in fear, his weak arms flailed around as he tried to fight the larger man off of him, but it was no use. “Guess I’ll just have to cut straight to the point.” He said, the smirk evident threw his altered voice before putting his knife against Daniel’s throat and slashing it open. Watching whatever life that was left in him drain from his eyes.

Peter being the skilled photographer he was, took a selfie of the two with their slayed animal, now it’s time to go claim their trophy.

—

Something was off.

Like seriously off, ever since Peter and Miguel disappeared at the party neither of them had answered their phone, and as soon Dani disappeared neither had he. Maybe the party wasn’t the best idea in retrospect, you let out a sigh as you entered your apartment, and collapsed on your couch, wanting to try and calm your racing thoughts a bit before you changed out of your costume. Closing your eyes, and taking in a deep breath.

Your phone started to ring.

Usually, you didn’t answer calls from people who weren’t already in your contacts, so the “blocked number” would normally set off red flags, but maybe the alcohol was still making your brain foggy, because without thinking you answer the call and put your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

No answer.

You left out a huff and tried again.

“Hellooo?”

When you didn’t get an answer again you rolled your eyes.

“I think you got the wrong numb-“

“Wanna play a game?”

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“I said, wanna play a game?”

“Um no thanks. I'm hanging up now.”

“Hang up and you won’t get to see your special surprise though.” Oddly enough, you grew a bit curious.

“Wha..what do I have to do?” You asked.

“It’s simple, We’re gonna play a small game of hot and cold.” You had a feeling this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you shouldn’t answer the call. “Right now you’re cold.”

Without another word, you slowly got up, and made your way down the hall, your floorboard creaking underneath your heels.

“Warmer.”

Your heart begins to beat in your ears, you bring a shaky hand up to the doorknob of your bathroom, you go to open the door when the voice from the other end of the phone spoke again.

“Colder.”

You quickly bring your hand back down to your side and let your heavy footsteps make your way into your bedroom.

“Hotter.”

You swallowed the thick lump of saliva down your throat as you made your way to the left side room, your eyes dead set on your closet.

“Hotter.”

You closed the gap between you and the closet, and brought your hand to the handle, mentally preparing yourself for whatever hides before the wooden doors.

“You're on fucking fire baby.”

Your hand drew back the door, the sight made you let out a blood curdling scream, almost dropping your phone in the process. Your Daniel, dead, sitting on the closet floor, gutted out like a fish. The voice on the other end of the phone let out a sly chuckle before speaking once again.

“Sorry about your boyfriend, guess all those muscles didn’t help much.” He mocked before the call went dead, and you finally released your phone, it falling to the floor, as your body began to shake and your breathing became rapid.

You let out a sob and began to stumble away from the mangled corpse that you once called your boyfriend, only for your back to meet with a what felt like a wall of muscle, you quickly look up over your shoulder, being met with the infamous ghostface mask that has been plastered all over the news.

“What’s the matter (Y/N)? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The altered voice taunted. No, no, no,no. This cannot be happening. You shook your head as another sob left your lips stumbling away from the masked killer and into the hallway, expecting him to follow after you, but instead he just watched you. If you were thinking straight. You’d probably realized that this was a trap, but you weren’t thinking straight, as you finally reached the front door, you went to unlock the door and leave your apartment, but before you even stepped foot out of the door a large hand came and grabbed you around your waist. You take in a deep breath and open your mouth to scream, but instead a white cloth came and covered your nose and mouth, the strong smell of chemicals quickly filling your lungs.

“Surprised (Y/N).” This voice was a bit deeper, then the one from your bedroom, your head became dizzy as you eyes fluttered, your vision was beginning to blacken, before you were fully go under, you saw the man holding you still was a lot larger than the other one, it clicked, there were two of them.

You black out.

—

“She out?” Peter asked Miguel as he slipped off his mask, Miguel following suit.

“Like a light.” Miguel smirks as he goes to pick you up bridal style, your body limply laying in his arms. The two couldn’t help but smile as they watched your sleeping form, so peaceful looking, like an Angel. Their angel. Their plan played out just as they wanted, you were theirs now, and theirs alone. No one could come in the way of you three anymore, all they had to do now was make sure you wouldn’t leave them. But how would you do that if you didn’t know where you were? You couldn’t. That’s why Miguel gently placed you in the backseat of Peter’s car, before getting into the passenger’s seat. They were going to make sure you were far, far away from your old life, so you could start your new one with your lovesick killers.