#so something has to be going on with the boy's eyesight to mistake a young and fresh-faced Nathaniel for the gaunt Nicholas

[soraavalon]

Nathaniel: Oh, Thomas was looking for you, by the way. Nicholas: Oh yes, I will need to fix their grandfather clock. Nathaniel: He mistook me for you. That's the only way I knew you were here. Nicholas: Ah. Oh, boy needs spectacles. -laughter-

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟓𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘: 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟏𝐤 (not proofread im sorry)

"Please, pick up", Jongseong begs quietly as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel of his car, "please, Baby. Please, pick up the phone."

In his twentyeight years of life he's never been as anxious, nervous and stressed as he is in this particular moment and as Jay tries his best to follow all the traffic rules, a wave of flashbacks from your last panick attack at your own apartment hit him, yet this time it seems to be even worse.

He knows you're safe.

His men are with you and from Donyeom's last call only two minutes ago, he knows there are actually enough of them to take down a whole football team, let alone your two brothers. Yet the feeling of nausea seems to become permanent the longer the drive to your apartment takes and the scenarios in his head start drifting into the worst directions possible.

By the time the young CEO finally parks his car right in front of your aprtment building, his eyes nervously roam his surroundings, desperately searching for the rental car his security guard had mentioned about twenty minutes ago, only to realise that his is the only one in eyesight.

With his heart brutally slamming against his rib cage, Jay walks up to your boys, the faces now familiar like he's known them all his life and as he approaches the grouo of young males, they don't hesitate to reassure him of your safety.

"She's safe, Jay", Seyeon says quickly, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he looks the business man up and doen to make sure of his physical well-being.

"I – Where are they, Yeonie? What the fuck happened? And why didn't you guys tell me about this?"

Jay knows he's wrongfully accusing the boys, yet in this particular moment he's not ready to admit the fact that this is his mistake and his only.

He should have made a proper background check on the two men he hired. He should have taken even better precautions. He should have been more careful.

"Calm down", the young boy says calmly and doesn't stray away from Jongseong's strict gaze.

"They left as soon as more of your men arrived ten minutes ago. And we didn't tell you because we didn't know. You should have told us about this!"

Jay's eyes scan every single one of Seyeon's expressions, the accusation hitting him at full force and if it wasn't for the intense anxiety mixing with adrenaline in his veins, he would have been a little more rational and less emotional, yet the louder the young boy's words become in his head, the harder it becomes to fight back the tears of guilt.

"I'm sorry", Jongseong whispers softly, his voice breaking at the end of his apology as a thin veil of tears blurs his vision.

Seyeon's cold expression immediately softens at the sight of the usually so strong and rather distant CEO in such a vulnerable state and without giving it another thought, he pulls Jay into a tight hug.

"She's safe. That's what matters. We'll talk about this when you're in a better headspace. Go and see your girl now, big boss."

Jay almost instinctively buries his face in the neck of the teenager, not realising just how shaken up he is before he pulls away, nods and wordlessly passes the rest of the boys to enter your apartment complex.

Just like the last time, Jong doesn't waste time waiting for the elevator to areive and opts to sprinting the stairs all the way to the fifth floor and when usually he'd do something so physically challenging would never faze him, he can barely catch his breath the moment he finally comes to stand in front of your apartment with about ten of his men all lined up in the hallway, waiting for him.

"Has she finally opened the door, Dokyeom?" Jay's eyes anxiously scan the face of the security guard, only for him to shake his head before verbally responding to his question.

"Fuck", this time Jong simply can't hold himself from getting louder, the anxiety and stress driving him into absolute insanity.

"What the fuck is she doing? Is she even in there? What if they somehow got in there and are holding her hostage? Why haven't you guys kicked in her fucking door yet? What the fuck is this shit?"

None of the man dare to speak up as their young boss loses himself in the panic of your absence and their silence just seems to drive him even crazier.

"Answer my fucking questions, Dokyeom! Why the fuck aren't you guys saying anything?"

Jay's voice is loud, louder than any of the men have ever heard him and in no other situation would he raise his volume like this, yet the mere thought of you being in danger has easily turned him into the worst version of himself he's ever experienced.

"Did something happen to her? Did something happen to the love of my life? Somebody just fucking say something – anything", without even realising, Jongseong reaches for Dokyeom's collar, his grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white as he looks at the young man with teary eyes, "please, don't tell me something happened to her."

And just as said security guard opens his mouth to say something, Jong finally notices the movement in the corner of his eye and with his heart brutally slamming against his rib cage, he turns his head to get a proper view, only to be met with the sight of you, the love of his life.

For a whole minute, the world as well as his heart come to a stop just to spin and beat even faster the next second, leaving the business man lightheaded as relief takes over his whole body.

You carefully watch the way Jongseong's facial expressions soften as his brain processes your presence and at the way his usually so soft and gentle eyes are filled with pain and panic you can't stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks.

The past two hours passed by in a blur. After spending a good hour just crying about your little argument, you didn't even bother taking a shower and just went straight to your apartment, craving a nice hot bath to calm yourself down and give your brain at least an hour to shut everything else out and focus on the warm water and silence.

You didn't know what to expect from your boyfriend, yet it definitely wasn't fifteen missed calls, especially after stepping out of the shower to the sound of way too many male voices on the other side of your door.

As the panic overwhelmed your body, you didn't even bother changing into your pyjamas and simply having a quick look through your peephole to ease your messy thoughts. To your luck the sight of about ten men in suits, Dokyeom and Mingyu included, it didn't take much time for you to calm down again.

You didn't even get to call your worried boyfriend back as his loud voice made its way through your thin walls and as if the universe had just waited for him to say those four words, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway just to hear him call you the love of his life.

A wave of guilt washes over your body as you take in the sight of your boyfriend in his actual pyjamas, hair messily falling into his bare face and his shaky hands as he pulls away from the security guard with his pretty eyes widened in nothing but relief.

"My Angel", is the first thing to leave Jongseong's lips before he approaches you and quickly pulls you into his arms, his mind too messy as it tries to make him believe that you're not actually there, only for all those thoughts to leave his head as soon as you wrap your arms around his neck and your sweet scent embraces him in the most perfect way possible.

"I'm so sorry, Jongie", you whisper into his ear, your soft cries breaking his heart but Jay doesn't dare use his voice just yet, so all he does is shake his head in response.

"I'm okay, I promise", your words, your voice, your touch easily calms his heart down enough and with a soft sigh Jay allows you to pull away just enougj to meet your gaze, "everything is okay. I'm here. I'm safe."

It's then that Jongseong realises that his body went into an anxiety attack, something he hasn't had in so long it actually overwhelmed him to the point where he didn't recognize his own reactions. While last time you were the one to follow the pattern of his breathing, it's him doing it with yours now, inhaling and exhaling deeply for who knows how long.

"There you go, you're doing so good for me, my love", you whisper softly, holding his face so gently, it feels like you're afraid to break him into pieces if you made a wrong move.

You're quick to pull him back into a hug once his breathing is back to normal and as Jay deeply inhales your scent, he finally finds his way back to reality.

You're here. In his arms. Safe and sound.

"You need to come home with me, Baby", Jay whispers into your ear, not rrady to let go of you just yet, "we can sleep in separate rooms if you want to. Fuck, I'll even stay at Hoon's if that's what you need me to do but please, I need you to come home with me, angel girl. It's too dangerous, you're not safe here."

His words definitely take you aback but as soon as you saw those missed calls on your phone display, you knew something had happened because Jongseong would have never panicked this much for nothing.

"Of course, Jongie", you reply calmly and take his face into your hands again, gently caressing his cheeks and quickly wiping away the single tear drop which had managed to escape. 

"I'm going to explain everything to you in the car. Go ahead and get changed, we'll go when you're ready."

All you can do is nod with big, teary eyes, still not quite over your boyfriend's intense reaction and although you're not necessarily scared or anxious, there's still this weird feeling of panic crawling underneath your skin, leading you to be as fast as physically possible. 

You don't even bother taking anything but your phone and your keys as you step out of your bedroom dressed in random sweats you found on the floor and the oversized hoodie you had on when you had arrived to your apartment about three hours ago. You give Jongseong a nod of approval and instinctively reach for his hand, only for him to pull you even closer to his body, yet remaining just as quiet as you. 

The car drive to your boyfriend's penthouse is filled with silence until Sunghoon's name pops up on Jong's phone and the young business man makes sure to give his best friend an update on the whole situation after only texting him a single text message and then not picking up any of his calls. 

You can hear the other boys' voices in the back as they all let out exclaims of relief upon receiving the news of your wellbeing and it doesn't take Jongseong longer than a few minutes to end the call. 

You're glad he agreed to let Dokyeom drive, as he realized that sitting behind the wheel in such an emotional state might not be the best idea. 

Jongseong reaches for your face, his knuckles softly graze your cheek before he places two of his fingers underneath your chin and tilts your head up. You don't even wait for his next move as you push your lips against his and indulge in the sweet feeling of his kiss. 

The kiss is soft. It's gentle and so full of love, you feel it fill your chest with warmth in a way only Park Jongseong has ever been able to, a feeling of comfort and security quickly following. 

It doesn't take much for you to lose yourself in the sweetness of him and the second Jay pushes your chin down just enough to push his tongue into your mouth, a soft whimper bubbles up your throat and loudly echoes through the silence in the car. 

Jay doesn't want to pull away. He just got a taste of his favorite drug after what feels like ages, yet he'd never risk letting his men hear what's meant for his ears and his only. 

To his luck, you're only about five more minutes left until you two are back in the safety of his penthouse and for the first time in the past few hours, Jongseong finally doesn't struggle to take a breath. 

With a soft sigh he gives you one last kiss on the lips but doesn't move a single inch, knowing you both need the close proximity now more than ever.

That's probably exactly why neither one of you bothers to walk further than the couch as soon as you step through the door and into the warmth of your shared home.

While he was still a little hesitant in the car because of his men, Jay doesn't seem to have an ounce of patience left in his body as he pulls you onto his lap the second he plops down on the couch next to you. 

You don't know how much time passes until Jay starts to speak, you're too mesmerized by the sight of his soft yet somehow sharp features, his pretty eyes and plump lips. You've missed looking at him like this, with no time pressure or the fear of someone seeing the two of you like this. 

It's finally just the two of you and nothing else matters. 

"There's no need to panic or be worried, okay, Baby? Everything's taken care of now but some things didn't go according to plan", Jong begins and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, his tired eyes never once leaving yours and you can't even get yourself to verbally respond, so all you to is nod. 

"It's about my brothers, isn't it?" You finally find your voice after a beat of silence and this time it's your boyfriend who just simply moves his head to answer your question. 

"Apparently the men I hired to take care of them are working for someone else, which is why and how they found your addressed and basically camped in front of your apartment building, waiting for you to come back."

You attentively listen to your boyfriend's words and despite a wave of horror washing over you, you find yourself more focused on the way he suddenly avoids your gaze, something you're not quite used to from him. It takes you a few seconds but as soon as you notice the way he nervously starts chewing on the inside of his cheek, you can finally put a name on the emotion written all over his face. 

Shame. 

"Why are you ashamed, Jongie?", you don't even think about the part with your brothers, too consumed by Park Jongseong, just as usual. 

"Because I put you in danger", he whispers, not an ounce of his usual confidence and certainty to be seen, "I didn't do roper background checks on those two men and that's why those fuckers felt so comfortable waiting for you."

Saying these words out loud are supposed to feel relieving, but all it does is make Jay's conscience cry out even louder as guilt, shame and embarrassment take over every inch of his body. 

"Jongie, you–", "Don't try to find excuses for this, Baby. I promised to always keep you safe and protected, yet the danger was right there, right in front of our eyes and I failed to see it. I failed to keep my promise because of a mistake so stupid, a mistake that should have been avoided at all costs. I'm sorry."

Maybe it's the fact that you haven't been this close to him in what feels like an eternity or maybe it's about you two getting into your first argument and maybe, just maybe it's because you've never loved a person the way you love Park Jongseong, but regardless of the reasoning, you can't help but feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at his words. 

There's just something about him that gets to you in a way you can't even explain. It's like that tiny shaking in his voice just slices a knife through your heart, yet the comfort it comes with heals you just as fast. 

"Jongie, look at me, please", you say softly and are now the one to take his face into your hands, your lips stretching into a soft smile as soon as his gaze meets yours.

"You're human, Jay. Things like these happen and that's okay. There's no point in beating yourself up over this, because it was exactly that: a mistake. Mistakes are done unintentionally", you never once avert your eyes from his and feel yourself falling in love with him all over again, "besides, you never broke your promise. Dokyeom was with me the whole time. I was never in actual danger. Please, don't be so hard on yourself, it breaks my heart to see you like this."

"No, please", Jong suddenly gulps harshly and shakes his head, "no more tears. No more pain. My heart can't bear it anymore."

You're slightly taken aback by his response and it's then that you realize that a few of your tears had managed to make their way down your cheeks and with a soft sigh you pull him into yet another kiss. 

To some it might seem odd that you're the one comforting him when you just found out that your brothers have been stalking you and aren't as far away from you as you had initially believed, yet for some reason you're not as concerned about them and their silly little plans to taunt and terrorize you as you are about your boyfriend's mental and emotional state. 

They're going to do whatever they need to feed their fragile ego either way, which is why you're not as scared about their actions as you were just a few weeks ago. Oh, and also the fact you're now accompanied by a six feet tall former military man most of the time now. 

"It's okay, my love", you sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders, loving the way Jay doesn't hesitate to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

His brain struggles a little process your choice of pet name, yet as soon as he processes what you had actually called him, not even for the first time tonight, Jongseong's heart finally stops aching in agony when he realizes the weight those two little words carry. 

"Your...love?"

Yet, he remains hesitant because maybe it's a term you use for your friends he hasn't heard yet or you don't actually mean it the way he thinks you do and after a night of such heart break and pain, he simply doesn't have the energy to fight his demons anymore. 

"Yes, Jongseong", you say confidently, pushing away slowly to look at him again, your heart thrumming in your throat at the mere thought of what you're about to tell him. 

It took you exactly eight weeks to realize that you're in love with Park Jongseong. You still remember the way you caught yourself staring at him from across the room, just watching his mannerism and movements as he engaged in a conversation with the head of the team you had just listened to. The second his gaze met yours, his eyes visibly softened and his lips even stretched into a tiny little smirk. That was the exact moment you knew that your silly little crush was a lot more than that and every day for the past few weeks he had managed to make you fall even more in love with him. 

The realization seemed scary at first, but now it's one of your most treasured emotions because nobody has ever made you feel as loved, appreciated, cared for and respected the way Park Jongseong has. 

As your eyes roam his handsome face, you take in the adoration and love gleaming in his pretty eyes, the ones you had found the home in you'd been searching for all your life. 

"I'm in love with you, Park Jongseong." 

You don't allow yourself to overthink and overanalyze your thoughts and decisions. Not this time. Not when you've never felt as sure about something as your feelings for the man you've waited for all your life. 

For a moment, however, you feel tiny jolts of anxiety making their way through your skin as Jay remains completely silent. 

Little do you know that this is the first time someone has ever said those words to him with such sincerity, such genuinity, such honesty. 

Little do you know Jongseong can't get himself to physically react yet because his brain has yet to get past the point of replaying the sound of you saying those sweet words and actually process them. 

Little do you know he has no choice but to remain reaction less, simply because he's never felt as happy as he does in this particular moment. His body has absolutely no idea what to do with all the serotonin rushing through his veins. 

"My Baby", he then finally breathes and lets out a soft chuckle, the tip of his nose reddening as tears of happiness blur his vision, "my pretty girl. My everything. The love of my life."

And there they are. The words he had used to describe you to his man in a moment of panic and anxiety, this time said with nothing but love and honesty, adoration and need.

"And I'm in love with you, Y/N."

Every doubt and worry that has ever crossed your mind in regards to Park Jongseong and his feelings for you suddenly vanishes. The only thing that matters is the fact that of all ways to call you, he's decided to give you a title so powerful and heavy in meaning, you can't even think of one that could ever come close to it. 

Just when you think there's no way this moment can get any more perfect than it already is, Jay suddenly reaches for your right hand, gently taking it into his own before lifting it to his lips and placing the softest kiss on your promise ring.

His eyes never once leave yours as he looks up at you through thick lashes, driving the mob of butterflies in your stomach even further into insanity with just a simple look. 

"And I promise to love you until my last breath and to find you in every life time. Thank you for giving me what I've been craving all my life, my perfect angel girl. Thank you for giving my soul the home it's been looking for all this time. Thank you for the privilege to be loved by you. It will forever remain my most treasured gift and something I won't ever take for granted."

You've always loved Jongseong's way with words but as he verbally expresses his love and gratitude for you, you can't help but gasp for air, too overwhelmed by a feeling so unknown yet so familiar. 

"Jay, I–", you stop mid-sentence as the tears get the best of you and the only thing to follow those two words is a soft sob of his name.

"It's okay, my sweet girl", Jong chuckles softly and pulls you closer against his chest before he places a firm kiss on your head, "I love you, too."

Not a single word is said after the as the two of you silently agree to take the sweetness of your love confessions into your drams, rather than the pain filled hours from earlier. As you bury your face even deeper in his neck, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his scent and warmth the one embrace your soul, you feel yourself slip into the best sleep you've ever had because despite everything that has happened, you've never felt as safe and protected as this. 

And when your breathing becomes lighter, Jongseong allows himself to let go of all the tears he had been holding back and finally fully indulge in the feeling of relief and gratitude that you turned out to be his person, after all. 

His home. His future.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: And here it is babies! I know you guys expected the worst so pls don't hate me, I gotta keep y'all on the edge to hit you even harder once we reach the actual big bang, bear with me 🤕🫣 honestly im not the proudest of this and i hope i didn't disappoint you guys, i promise i'll make up for the lack of smut soon!🫣 thank you sm for all the love and support babies, you're truly the best and i can't thank you enough. feedback is always appreciated!💞)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

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Look Outside The Window

Jay Merrick/Skully x M!Reader

Last Edited: July 4, 2021 12:03 AM

TW: stalking, obsessive behavior

Requested: no

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: these used 2 be posted but i deleted them after some comments made me hate them. however, i found them again recently n may end up adding more. i also do not hate them anymore. tws will be in the notes before every chapter and some will be put in the additional tags. the character is also in the notes/summary before each chapter. (The 1st 4 r old n unedited)

You had needed an out. You needed to get away from home. Your parents did nothing but trap you there. You couldn’t make your own decisions or even buy anything with your own money without them talking you down or insulting you over it. They wanted you to live with them and go by their rules. They didn’t care about what you wanted in life and only saw you as their “little boy”. You weren’t a child anymore; you were a young adult. They were constantly trying to infantilize you and you hated it. You were a young adult and you needed to branch out, make mistakes, and move on. So that’s what you did. You left home after finding a house-sitting job.

The job would last a few months, which was odd to you. Why house sit for months on end? The owners didn’t tell you anything. You didn’t even call. You emailed them and they emailed you. Every interaction with the couple was through emails. Or at least, you think the person messaging you is in a relationship. It sounded that way. One part of the email said, “We’ll be leaving the house to you. My partner and I are going on vacation for a few months. You can watch and live in the house while there. Your pay will be sent to you in a check via mail. The groceries will be delivered to you once a week. May you watch it carefully.” The last part gave you a sense of foreboding, almost like you should be watching out for something out in the house deep in the woods.

When you had arrived at the house, you were pleasantly surprised to find it very tidy. Everything was spotless in the two-story home. It held four bedrooms and three bathrooms. There was a dining room, living room, family room, kitchen, foyer, dressing area, and a nook. Overall, a large house. Well, a large house for a simple couple. Perhaps the couple has quite a bit of money? Especially if they’re going on vacation for a few months and are paying you a large sum to simply watch the lonely house in the woods.

The first few days were fine. Nothing really happened other than the feeling of being watched. What creeped you out the most though was that you never heard any birds. It was always silent outside. Silent and still. There was barely any wind thanks to the dense forestry. Despite that, the feeling of being watched continued. Sometimes, though, you would hear gentle buzzing in your ears. It reminded you of bees but it sounded more like an old tape. Whenever you heard it, it seemed like static covered your eyesight. You could still see, but the static was like a film over your sight. Whenever you would look in the mirror, your eyes seemed to have a slight glaze over them. Of course, there wasn’t much you could do and no amount of searching the internet seemed to help.

By the second week, you were hearing birds. There was something… off about them. They didn’t sound lively. They sounded hollow. Almost like something was mimicking them. You would hear them next to whichever window you were closest to as well. It was like something was by the window, mimicking the birds only when you’re there. It didn’t happen all throughout the day either. It only happened when you weren’t doing something. If you were to turn off the television, ready to get started on a meal, the chirping and singing would start up. Because of how hollow and synthetic it sounded, shivers would run all over your body. It didn’t help that the static over your vision seemed to get slightly worse whenever it would happen; the buzzing in your ears also seemed to get louder. At night, however, there was no chirping or singing. The static seemed to have tripled at that point though and the buzzing was so loud that you could barely hear your heartbeat and breathing.

By the first month, you were looking outside constantly. The bird noises seemed to happen constantly by now and notes started to appear around your home. When you would try to sleep, the hollow tune of the birds would be there despite the fact that no birds were out. The buzzing was so loud that it was all you would hear. The static was so bad that it completely covered your sight; it was like looking at a static screen. The notes terrified you. There were never any footprints in the snow outside and you were the only one in the home. You believed, at first, that you were writing them. Maybe you had been half asleep and wrote them. But that changed when the notes didn’t match your handwriting and started to be… weird.

You look handsome today. One said. Do you like the birds? They don’t seem very lively though. Another read. I wish you would see me. You always know I’m there thanks to the static and buzzing. Maybe we’ll meet soon. More and more would come in. They were always placed where you’d see them. A window. The fridge. Even on the television. They were taped there, all signed with an S. One was even on your bedroom door. How did someone get in and out without leaving any footprints or any evidence behind? You didn’t know but it started to make you close every curtain and try to raise the volume of everything, trying so hard to drown out the unlively birds.

Today was just like the last few. The static over your vision makes it hard to see right with how thick it is. The buzzing in your ears is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the synthetic birds. You make breakfast for yourself, dressed in some simple sleepwear. The breakfast you make doesn’t take too long, just some scrambled eggs and toast with jam. You eat in silence; well, not entirely in silence thanks to the buzzing and birds. When you finish your breakfast, you wash the plate and other utensils you had used to make your meal. Once done, you decided to do some light stretching in the living room. There wasn’t much you could do in the home. Outside was too cold for you to explore the wilderness without sustaining frostbite.

All of the curtains were closed except for one. It was the closest to the television. You were going to close it before spotting the note taped on the box. You stare at the note before tearing it off the screen. It reads: Look Outside The Window . You pause, staring at the note. The buzzing slowly starts to get louder just as the static over your sight starts to worsen. The birds, however, stop chirping. There’s only the buzzing. Slowly, you look towards the window. Nothing. Nothing but still snow.

A small smile worms its way only your face, mocking. A small, forced chuckle leaves your lips before you turn around, ready to head back into the kitchen to make some tea to calm your beating heart. You freeze though when you see the figure standing in the doorway. The beige-orange coat covers most of their figure while the black-ish blue hood covers their face. They have on a pair of gloves, the same colour as their hood. Their pants are a simple pair of jeans while their shoes seem to be black combat boots. Seeing a figure in your home is terrifying, yes. It wouldn’t have been as scary if the figure didn’t have a mask on. The mask was an off-white-ish colour with black eyeholes, high black eyebrows, and a box shape for the mouth, somewhat resembling teeth.

You both stand there, no one moving. The buzzing is so loud now that you can barely hear your own heart and breathing. The static is so bad that you can barely see the figure clearly. “IT’s NiCe To FiNaLlY mEeT yOu, [Redacted],” They, or he, says. His voice sounded weird. It was like a mix of different pitches and he couldn’t decide which one was best and went with all of them. You didn’t think though, only acted. You quickly dropped the note and fled the living room. You could hear him following you as you ran for the back door. You slam into it, trying to unlock it. “YoU dOn’T wAnT tO gO oUtSiDe! It’S tOo CoLd FoR yOu. EsPeCiAlLy WiTh HoW yOu’Re DrEsSeD!” You don’t listen though, not even as he slowly approaches you. With a final turn of the knob, the door is flung open and you run out into the snow.

It’s cold and stings your feet. You run and run and run. You don’t once look back, too scared that he may be right there. You don’t hear him following you, but that’s due to the buzzing. It’s so loud now that it’s all you can hear. You’re basically running blind; the static is so thick that seeing your surroundings is almost impossible. You stumble around mostly, hands in front of you so you don’t run face-first into any trees.

You’re unsure of how long you have been running. All you know for sure is that you can’t see anything anymore, the buzzing is starting to give you a headache, you feel like you’re sweating buckets beside the fact that your legs, arms, fingers, and toes are going numb. It isn’t long before you collapse. You’re breathing heavily, panting in the snow. You can feel yourself shaking despite feeling so hot, so overheated. Your hair sticks to your forehead as you continue to sweat. You try to move, to drag yourself somewhere but your body refuses. You lay there, your eyes open despite them wanting to close. The static is still strong, just like the buzzing. They scream danger but your body refuses to listen.

As more time passes, you feel yourself slowly going numb, your eyes fluttering every now and then, trying to close. The static slowly starts to fade away until it’s back to the normal, barely there, state. The buzzing fades into a gentle hum, it barely being able to be heard. You can hear how heavy your breaths are and see the pure white of the snow. One of your hands is in front of you, pale and slowly turning blue. Frostbite will, or already has, set in. Were you going to die out here? Here, all alone. Nothing to your name. No one looking for you besides your parents. Who would find your body? Or would the masked man hide your body away, letting it decay somewhere?

You can hear the crunch of the snow and gentle humming coming your way. It seems the man has come for you. His pace is slow, not at all rushed. Soon enough, he walks into your field of vision. He crouches down, sitting on the balls of his feet. His gloved hand is brought up before it comes through your hair. “LoOk At YoU. A sHiVeRiNg, HaNdSoMe MeSs. As MuCh As I lIkE hOw YoU lOoK rIgHt NoW, bEiNg VuLnErAbLe AnD aLl, YoU’rE tUrNiNg BlUe,” As soon as those words leave his mouth, he scoops you up in his arms, holding you close to him tightly. “DoN’t WoRrY. I’lL tAkE gOoD cArE oF yOu. I lOvE yOu ToO mUcH nOt To. YoU’lL bE sAfElY tUcKeD aWaY iN tHaT hOuSe, WiTh Me By YoUr SiDe To KeEp YoU cOmPaNy. NoW dOeSn’T tHaT sOuNd NiCe?”

[violettelueur]

— GOJO SATORU || IT WAS NEVER YOUR FAULT

↳ featuring : gojo satoru (ft. itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 21 february

↳ pronouns : non specified in imagine

↳ word count : 1.4k

↳ synopsis : while talking to itadori about your blindness, gojo starts to feel the guilt that he has been trying to hide overtake him again, only for you to have a few words of your own.

↳ request : Hello hello😊 I may or may not have been peering into your shops windows staring at the coffee. Its cold outside and I want something to warm me up- a fluffy story with, hear me out,A BLIND (fem) Y/n and Gojo. Like a blind jujutsu sorcerer would be pretty interestingPretty please?-flustered anon

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit...i didn’t realise you wanted a fluff rather than what i have written here...so i do deeply apologies for the mistake made on your coffee order ʕ º ᴥ ºʔ but i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and come again anytime soon ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

“Wait, so you wear an eye cover because you are blind L/N-sensei?” Itadori asked in a surprised tone, causing you to turn your head towards the direction of his voice which led the young sorcerer to be surprised since it generally seemed like you had the sense of sight that was tragically taken away from you.

“Oh yeah, I can’t see at all, so I tend to wear the eye cover so my eyes don’t get sensitive to the light,” you answered with a smile, trying to convey to the young boy that you weren’t offended by the question while using your index finger to point at the mentioned item.

“So how do you know where people are and where to walk since you don’t use a cane?” the first year asked in a questioned tone since he just perplexed at the whole situation as he had just discovered that you were actually blind rather than copying your boyfriend to have that ‘matching couples look’.

“Curse energy is really easy to sense over time, I can tell who is who by the amount of curse energy they have, just like your idiot teacher who is trying to scare me right now,” you explained while pointing behind you, only for Itadori to tilt his body slightly to the side only to find Gojo with a downcasted look on his face.

“Ah~ I can never trick you, can I honey?” Gojo muttered in disappointment before wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a way to greet you that he was here before hooking his chin upon your shoulder, causing you to shiver due to the feeling of his warm breath passing your cheeks lightly.

“Nah, you could never,” you cheekily commented leading to the strongest sorcerer to pout at your comment to which you could sense but was disheartened at the fact you could not see the look he had on his face. 

The same look that you loved and still do when you tease him back.

“How do you think I look then?” Itadori asked while ignoring Gojo’s affection towards you since he now was extremely curious about what you thought about him, appearance-wise.

Raising your right hand to hold on to Gojo’s arms that have encaged you, you quietly and slowly began to paint an image in your head of what you thought Gojo’s student looked like. From what you heard from your boyfriend as well as Fushiguro, Itadori was deemed to be a good person in their book and quite energetic and bright which was quite opposite to what Fushiguro was, even though you remembered the stoic sorcerer to be the little child, who would hide behind your legs and follow your around when he was feeling clingy or just lonely. 

He was also the only student within the first-year group that you got to see physically.

“When I imagine you Itadori, I think of a boy that has a really bright smile that shines brighter than the sun itself, also Gojo already told me you have pinkish spiky hair and light brown eyes, so there’s that,” you answered with a smile of your own before masterfully placing your left hand on the top of his head as if you could even see that he was right there. “Gojo also told me you were a tiny bit shorter than Megumi, so it’s not hard to pat your head as much,” you commented with a giggle before ruffling his hair leading Itadori to laugh with you, which caused Gojo to look at the scene with a small smile on his face.

However, there was still a hint of guilt that was planted in his heart as the stems were clinging onto his ribs at the fact you’ll never get to see Itadori physically nor will you ever see him and Fushiguro probably again.

He will never forgive himself for being careless and letting a curse have the opportunity to use its cursed energy to hit your eyes leading to the blindness that you now have for the rest of your life as well as the guilt he has to carry for the rest of his - no matter how many times you have told him it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help but blame himself for the result, even Ieiri was dispirited at the fact she couldn’t use her curse energy to heal your sight back.

Even though, Fushiguro didn’t mention anything about it nor did he want to be shown as weak, Gojo remembered when the young child Fushiguro cried at the fact that you were never going to ever see him again and even when you consoled the child, he would burst in tear again when he looked into your eyes only to remember you couldn’t see him.

Tightening the hold on your shoulders, you noticed Gojo’s change in cursed energy as it flickered slight causing you to turn your head slightly to the direction of his face before using your right hand (that was not on Itadori’s head) to tighten the hold of Gojo’s arms as a way to comfort him before removing your other hand from the student’s head to hold your boyfriend’s hand that was on your left shoulder.

“You know Itadori when I lost my sight it was quite upsetting but I remember the child I was protecting, from what I remember hearing, he had graduated elementary recently and is going to middle school as of right now,” you stated, causing Itadori to look at you with a concentrated look on his face since it seemed like you were saying something that was going to be important.

“But I want you to remember this, I didn’t become a sorcerer to save people but rather to preserve the balance between humans and curses because in the end, I know, the innocence of some people will go away quicker than others and if I choose the life of saving people as my only objective, my guilt will only manifest more when I don’t save someone,” you explained with a calm but serious tone, it was as if you were not only talking to Itadori.

“I don’t want myself or other people to feel guilty when a fatal or irreversible action has been taken, that’s why no one is at fault for the reason that I am blind,” you confessed leading both Itadori to come to the realisation that you were talking about this goal of ‘giving people a fair death’ and the disadvantages of it, while Gojo was shocked at the fact you were hinting at him during your speech on how guilt is the most powerful thing that leads to the downfall of many sorcerers.

That’s what Gojo felt. 

Guilt.

Guilty at the fact he couldn’t save you in time during that mission.

Guilty at the fact you lost your eyesight.

Guilty at the fact at how you were now as a sorcerer even those you were more than capable to carry your duties as a special grade one sorcerer much to everyone’s shock.

But here you were telling him that it wasn’t his fault and it never was in the first place.

No one was at fault for your lost sight.

Suddenly the stems that were tangled around his ribs began to slowly wilt as they were steadily dying as your words refused to feed them the guilt that was giving them the power and nutrients to further grow.

It wasn’t his fault.

It was never his fault.

Steadily, a smile reached his face as he pulled you in further to his chest leading your back to hit against it leaving a few unusual shivers from you due to the feeling of the overpowering warmth and glee you felt from your boyfriend as his cursed energy brightened up with a certain glow you weren’t quite sure of.

“Thank you honey~ for everything,” Gojo muttered in your ear before continuing back to talking to Itadori in his usual cheerful and playful tone as if nothing sentimental happened between the both of you just right now.

Surprised at his sudden change of behaviour, you couldn’t help but smile slightly at his newfound brightness leading you to answer back his gratitude in a soft whisper that both student and teacher didn’t hear.

“It was never your fault, I love you”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[tennessoui]

You kind of already did 31 but pleaseeeeeeee

these ficlets keep getting longer ffs this is 2k

31. One is a sex worker, the other is a client AU

anakin's had his turn as a sex worker in my writing so it's Obi-Wan this time, paired with Vaderkin and i made it more dark than I thought would happen whoops but. warnings are: probably bordering extremely dubious consent even though no sex happens and this is just the lead up. a brief reference to underage sex work, though absolutely nothing comes of it. and vaderkin being a bit creepy.

There is a saying among the workers at the Establishment: if the imperial palace calls for you, you should hope the person that is displayed next to you is prettier.

Obi-Wan has never bought into prayers of any kind and this saying is only ever said with something akin to a worshipful dread. Still, when Ahsoka drapes a cloak of red around his shoulders and whispers those words to him—“May the others be your betters”—he thinks for a second about the nature of prayer and of hope and the futility of both in this galaxy.

“Don’t worry, little ‘Soka,” he smiles from under the cloak’s hood. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake.” He is, after all, one of the oldest workers here, makes most of his money these days tending bar and running the front desk, called in to serve mostly for virgin customers who want a gentler and more experienced hand to guide them in the art of pleasure. He doesn’t think any of the words could be used to describe the Emperor Vader, can’t see the imposing black-suited man interested in the art of pleasure.

Ahsoka can’t look him in the eye, but she hugs him tightly as he boards the shuttle that will take him to the Palace.

The ride there is quiet. Obi-Wan tries to avoid as many glances from the other people as he gives to them. Most of them are young, human. He seems to be the only male above 40. His chances are good.

Maybe he hadn’t been lying to Ahsoka. Maybe, truly, his name being included on the list had been a mistake

Something inside him hesitates though. He’d been out in the Upper levels a week ago, making his way home after one of his rare appointments with an old client turned friend. A child had fallen into the path of a small parade of speeders. A correctional officer had raised a whip. Obi-Wan had reacted on instinct, catching its lash with his forearm. The child had run off. Obi-Wan had stayed. He’d raised his head just enough, eons later, to see the durasteel outside of the largest speeder pass by his prone form, just enough to see the Imperial crest on its hull. Just for long enough to see a glint of a yellow eye from the window.

Bacta had treated his wounds, but his mind had not allowed him to rest easily, caught up in the memory of that eye--had he imagined the interest? Had he imagined it all?

And so to hear his name called tonight--the first calling since The Incident--had felt like the confirmation of all of his most unfounded fears.

Would tonight be the night he died? He had lived a long life. A rough one. Perhaps it is time.

Still, in the back of his head, a selfish, utterly human part of him whispered, may the others be your betters.

---

Those chosen do, often, come back. Sometimes they do not. Mostly they do. Obi-Wan has never truly decided which of these fates is the worse one. Those who survive don’t say anything for days on end, their eyes blank as they stare forward. Their bruises, if they are there, are easy to heal. But something is always wrong with their minds afterwards. And those who don’t come back...well. It’s hard to say what happens to them, where they go. Far away or down below.

Obi-Wan is forced to his knees in between a moderately aged female Togruta and a fairly young teenager. The boy is shaking. He can’t be more than sixteen.

They’re in the Entrance Hall. Obi-Wan has never been here before, but he supposes it makes sense. There will be one person who ventures further into the Palace. The rest will be dismissed out the doors that just shut. No need to bring the scum further in than they have to.

Distantly, like a funeral drum, Obi-Wan can hear the sound of feet falling, making their way closer. Just a single pair. He wants to look up, to watch the Emperor--because it has to be the Emperor--approach, but there’s a Guard behind him, holding his head down.

The footsteps are close now. There’s only ten of them--sometimes, Obi-Wan has heard that there can be as many as twenty or thirty--so the line is short. Vader paces quietly from the first to the last person, before stopping in the middle. Obi-Wan can just see the black of his boots if he flicks his eyes as far as they can go to the left. The boy next to him lets out a muffled sob. Obi-Wan wishes he could offer the kid some sort of comfort, some sort of reassurance that the Emperor will choose one of the other workers, a body more desirable than either of theirs, but there are no words to describe the guilty relief of a suffering passed onto someone else.

On some sort of invisible signal, the Guard behind Obi-Wan wrenches his head back by the hold he has on both the silken hood and his own hair. It’s far from comfortable, tilted so far back. The message is obvious. Submission is not optional. Respect will be shown through any means necessary.

Obi-Wan tries to keep the hulking form of Vader in his eyesight, even though to see ahead of him he has to close his eyes almost completely because of the angle. It’s impossible to see anything from the chest up, but he can still hear. Loud, mechanical breathing fills the halls. Vader stops at each person for no longer than five seconds before he continues down the line. Obi-Wan holds his breath, waiting for his turn. Does he turn his head as much as he can, to try and accentuate the gray at his temples? Does he lower his eyes?

He doesn’t, in the end, do either. Vader is wearing a mask, completely covering his face. He doesn’t even look human, except for the way he cocks his head slightly as he stares down at Obi-Wan. He feels flayed, just under the single look, but he can’t turn away either. He glowers up at him. Five seconds pass. Vader should be moving on by now. The fact that he hasn’t fills Obi-Wan with the sort of fear he’s only felt a handful of times in his life.

“This one,” Vader says through a voice modulator. Obi-Wan closes his eyes in defeat, thinks of Little Ahsoka back at the Establishment, thinks of what she’ll think if he doesn’t make it home.

But the boy next to him bursts into sobs and Obi-Wan opens his eyes to see that Vader’s hand isn’t pointing to him at all, but instead just to his right.

But Vader’s face is still pointed directly at Obi-Wan though, head still cocked. The question is as clear as if he actually spoke the words aloud. What will you do about this?

What will he do? What can he do? It’s the street from a week ago all over. A child is in danger. How can Obi-Wan ever live with himself if he doesn’t at least try to throw himself on the blade?

“No!” he says before he can think it through. The Guard behind him jerks his hair back roughly in punishment, but the monster in front of him runs two gloved fingers down his cheek, the pantomime of a lover’s caress. “Me instead. Choose me.”

“Quiet,” the Guard hisses to him, making him wince with the ferocity of the yank he gives his hair. Obi-Wan pants open-mouthed as he tries to think of an argument, of a single reason why the Emperor should not get what he wants, should settle for a washed up whore instead of a younger model. All he can think of is the moral justifications of it, and he’s not sure Vader would care for that line of reasoning.

“I’m asking,” he blurts out. The fingers pause from where they’ve been absent-mindedly touching his beard. “When has anyone ever asked?”

The Emperor takes a step back and seems to consider Obi-Wan, what he has to offer. He tries to preen, to throw his shoulders back and sit back on his heels to show off his body, but it’s hard when the Guard hasn’t let up on his hair. In fact the grip gets even tighter as the man behind him snorts a common insult.

A second later, the hand and the pressure disappear. Obi-Wan falls forward automatically at his sudden release. He scrambles away instinctively, even if that means closer to Vader. Vader who has his hand raised out in front of him clenching his gloved fist tight. Obi-Wan looks behind him at the guard who had held him. The man is scrabbling at his throat. Obi-Wan knows already it will be a futile effort. With Vader distracted by his execution, he turns to check on the boy. He’s looking down, refusing to make eye contact.

Probably for the better.

The Guard falls to the floor. The other nine Guards don’t move at all. Obi-Wan supposes there’s no room for loyalty in a galaxy like this.

“Come,” Vader says, running a hand through his hair. It’s a surprisingly gentle touch, seeing as that hand just took someone else’s life.

Slowly, Obi-Wan rises to his feet and follows behind him, through the twisting halls of the Imperial Palace. He thinks anyone could get lonely here if they have no one to keep them company. It’s so big. Obi-Wan shares his room with three other people, and he frets if one of them is still gone by the time he falls asleep.

This much space would drive anyone mad for another’s touch.

He blinks at himself, incredulous. Is he actually trying to feel compassion for the Emperor? Is it actually working?

The Emperor flings open a pair of elaborate doors without touching them, and suddenly Obi-Wan’s in the bedchambers of the most powerful man on the planet. And to think, he’s wearing mismatched and terribly darned socks.

He resolves to not ask Vader for permission to do anything with his own body for the entire night. He sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Vader takes off his cape and his gloves.

“Would you like to know my prices before or after?” He asks as cooly as possible.

“Your price is that it’s you here and not the boy.”

“Would you have wanted the boy?” Obi-Wan can’t hide the disgust in his tone.

“No,” the Emperor says succinctly. “But I did want to know what you would do. If you really were the same man as the one in the street.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. “Why would you want to know that?”

“There’s so little good left in the galaxy. It’s fascinating that so much is concentrated in you.” Vader reaches up to unlatch his mask. A cascade of golden curls falls out.

He huffs. The Emperor of the Galactic Empire thinks there’s not enough good in the galaxy. It’s at the very least ironic. “It’s a greedy galaxy, your Imperial Majesty--”

The Emperor turns around to face him, helmet still held in his hands. Obi-Wan is surprised to learn he’s just a man. An attractive man, certainly, young and almost pretty with a perfect arch to his lips and a roguish scar cutting through a thick eyebrow. If he had been one of Obi-Wan’s workers, he’d have taken him under his wing, tried to protect him from the clients who would have paid extra to rough up that face.

He was saying something. Obi-Wan had meant to say something else. Oh. Right. “Good cannot be bought.”

The man in front of him--was it really Vader?--smiles, but it doesn’t reach his yellow eyes. “No,” he purrs, discarding his helmet and stalking forward. “But you can.”

[fanmoose12]

Levihan week 2021

Day three: Sunset

Summary: It's nice outside - not cold at all, the air is fresh and the slight breeze softly caresses his grey hair. And the sky, the sky is painted in all shades of blues and pinks and purples, with the bright red circle of the sun shining through the tree branches.

His life a constant struggle, Levi pictured the moment of his death more times than he could count.

He expected to die out of starvation without ever seeing sun. Then, he thought he'd die under the bright blue sky, with monster's giant teeth tearing through his flesh. He imagined he'd die from the other human's bullet, from his uncle's own hands, from the claws of an ugly, hairy beast. He thought he'd be trampled by huge, mindless creatures, unleashed by the boy who was once called the humanity's only hope.

But he was wrong. All these things, they got so close to killing him, they almost succeeded. But he was stronger, he survived all of it.

And now he is dying from the old age, surrounded by the only people who still give a damn about him.

It's peaceful, there are no screams, explosions or flames of wild fire. On the contrary, it's quiet in the room he lays in. Too quiet even, as the only sound he can hear is Gabi's muffled sobs.

"Oi," his voice comes out cracked, too weak. Levi tries to remedy that with his fierce look. But grey-haired and wrinkled, he doesn’t look even half as formidable as he once did. "I'm not dead yet. You can cry all you want after I kick the bucket."

"Levi!" Onyakopon's eyes open wide, as he hides his surprise with a palm on his mouth. "You can't say that!"

Levi chuckles, watching their faces with soft affection. They've spent so many years together, and yet they still are surprised by the shit that comes out his mouth.

"Maybe, you want something?" it's Falco, helpful and gentle as ever. "A glass of water, or—"

"Outside," he says, his eye darting to the window. "I want to go outside."

Wordlessly, Onyakopon and Falco help him get inside the wheelchair, and once he's sited, Gabi wheels him to the porch.

It's nice outside - not cold at all, the air is fresh and the slight breeze softly caresses his grey hair. And the sky, the sky is painted in all shades of blues and pinks and purples, with the bright red circle of the sun shining through the tree branches.

His gaze softens as he watches the picturesque scene. He always liked sunsets, despite the melancholia they provoke in him. His sun has been gone for a long time now, but the memory of her is bright as ever in his mind. Compared to her, the sun in front of him is a mere candle, it's nearly not as radiant. It doesn’t make him feel just as warm.

"You look so calm," Gabi says, her hand lying on his shoulder. "Aren't you afraid of... dying?"

Is he afraid? Of course, he's not, how could he be? He imagined death a thousand times in a thousand different ways. He never expected to die like this, but this soft and quiet end is more merciful than he could ever hope for.

Besides, he lived a long life, he never thought he'd get to grow that old. He lived a fulfilling life, he had but one regret. And soon, he hopes to rectify that mistake of his too.

"I'm not afraid," he answers Gabi. "I know I won't be alone."

"Someone is waiting, huh?" Onyankopon catches his eye, smiling. "Give my best regards to her."

"I will," Levi promises, returning his gaze to the setting sun.

"Let’s give him a moment,” Onyankopon whispers to Gabi and Falco, as he sees Levi’s eye go misty. “Levi wants to talk to someone else now.”

Levi doesn’t hear the kids' confused questions, doesn't hear them leave, too focused on the beauty in front of him. The beams still shine too brightly, they make his eye water. And as his vision starts to swim at the edges, he sees a lone figure at the horizon. It grows bigger and bigger, approaching him. He recognizes her form and shape immediately, despite his worsening eyesight.

The figure is waving at him, almost running now.

"Watch where you're going, idiot," he scoffs, feeling his eyes water for a very different reason now. "Or you'll fall on your ass."

His heart swells when the figure stops in front of him. Their eyes meet, and his chest constricts, Hange, his Hange, the love of his life, she's finally here. He's finally with her, reunited at last.

"Took you long enough," he says, his eye roaming all over her. She looks exactly as he remembers – beautiful, young and so radiant, much brighter than the sun.

"Took you long enough," she smiles fondly.

Just like that, the setting sun gets forgotten completely. Now Levi can stare at his sun.

"I'm here now."

"You are," Hange offers him a hand. "But are you ready?"

He takes her hand without hesitation. Already, he feels that much lighter, that much younger. Finally, his heart is at peace, reunited with its other half. "I am ready."

Hange nods and intertwines their fingers.

"Then let's go, Levi. Everyone is waiting."

The last sunbeams disappear behind the line of horizon, when Levi draws his last breath.

He dies with a smile on his face.

[antigoneidk]

Save me|arvin russel

based on this request: Hey! I just came accross your Arvin Fic and I loved it very much. Could you do one where the reader’s family just moved in and they’re neighbours with the Russel’s and reader happens to become Lenora’s bestie and she has a crush on Arvin but he’s already dating but he also happens to develope feelings for the reader but he’s always cold towards her like whenever they run into eachother at church or when their families are hanging out together and the reader assumes he dislikes her but one day her parents fix her marriage with a guy and she doesn’t like cuz he’s a jerk so one time at a family dinner the reader’s dad is planning to announce her engagement reader asks Arvin for help and the sneak out to a dark hallway in the house and make out cuz they know the guy was following them and Chase him away and then they confess? Omg this was long I’m sorry lol 😅 But you’re an amazing writer. Much love♥️

a/n: thanks again for the request and your sweet words❤this took me a lot of time to write lol didn’t know that it’ll take this long.

word count: 4k

I opened my eyes, my eyesight still blurry from the nap I took moments ago. The sunlight burnt my eyes, like someone threw hot oil to my eyes. My six-year old brother moved slightly in my arms but continued his sleep. I wanted to stretch my legs as they felt sore and heavy after almost seven hours inside this car, on the other hand I didn’t want to bother the little boy that looked so peaceful and innocent in his sleep. So I leaned my head to the window and admired the trees-it seemed like an endless forest-all moving fast from where I was.

We were moving in a new city, miles away from our hometown. My parents thought it was for the best, a new start for us, new people, new experiences. I wasn’t looking forward to this change in our lives, in mine-especially this quick. I loved my routine back there, my three girlfriends, our neighbors, the park only two minutes away from our house, my little room, my escape from the real world, the old lady that greeted me with a smile on her lips every day while I was making my way to school.

I knew deep inside me that there was a reason, serious one to be exact. How did they find a house so fast in a town that I’m sure they had no idea that existed, or why they never talked about this topic in the house, or discuss it with their kids. And why they didn’t pack all of our things, why they didn’t sell the house, how did they found the money to buy the other one, why so far away from my comfort zone. So many questions were running through my mind, the pain from all the thinking making me sick.

I scanned my two parents in the front seats. They looked completely out of this world, so blank. My mum had her arm outside of the car, letting the cold air hit her fingers with the few rings that adorned them. Her hair in a ponytail-her favorite hairstyle-pulling the skin on her face a little back. She wasn’t old at all although her eyes were always tired, red, puffy, like our grandmother, her mum. However the rest of her face looked softer, giving the idea of a sweet lady, something that wasn’t so true.

I turned to the man next to her. Our dad had his one hand on the steel, the other outside of the window, his fingers holding the cigarette tight. His eyes were nailed on the road, his lips pursed the whole time, his hair pulled back, his jaw sharper than a knife, his figure tough, no emotions, a portrait of a man after a war.

They were people that hid very well love, happiness, pain, sadness, sympathy. At this point I was convinced that they never fell in love, but how they ended up together was a mystery-and that’s how it remained. Maybe there was a deep connection between the two of them and only for them. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a mistake that they had to pay for-me getting into this world. Maybe it was never their choice.

Towards me and my brother there was no difference. Not that they were bad to us, or showed any sort of violence. But we never got to experience that kind of love from our parents, the warm hug after a horrible nightmare, that bright smile wherever we did good in school, the beautiful weekends with family dinners, the love between family members. It was more like a competition of who had the bigger ego, who could survive the loneliness, who could handle their emotions only to them selves.

My little brother had lost years ago. I thank God every day that he didn’t turned to a small emotionless monster but to a sensitive soul, a kind young man that had manners and shared everything with me, from a accident he had at the park to his biggest fears that scared him to the maximum. He was my weakness, my everything, the reason I stayed with our family when I had the chance to run away, the reason I want to finish school and run away with him for a future he deserves. But he was still six years old-I had to be quick.

“We are here" dad’s croaky voice woke me up from my lethargy. I stared at the house in front of us. It seemed smaller from our previous one, the style reminding me the house our grandparents live in. Also it looked old enough to get destroyed by a small thunderstorm and rip our heads in half, the front wooden door opened for everyone to enter.

“Hey baby, we’re home" his eyes opened slowly, his small arms squeezing my waist for a moment before his body sat straight, his gaze facing the building in front of us. Our parents had left the car already, leaving the two of us alone. I could sense his excitement for our next adventure in a new town-yet his fear of this unexpected change, just like me.

“It’s going to be fun, come on" I tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible to help his mood to cheer up even more. I opened the door and got out, the warm sun hitting my bare legs and arms, my black dress covering the rest of my body. I stretched my sore body, feeling my back cracking and the pain flying away. I closed the door and made my way to the inside of our new home, the pain in my stomach getting intense with every step of mine, a bad intuition holding me back.

I walked up the stairs holding his hand tight in mine. As soon as I stepped inside I wanted to run miles away. The walls were paint in a grey color, reminding me of the cloudy days where I’d stay inside my room, dreaming about life, or thinking of ways that I can change it, or wondering about my soulmate, who’s walking on this earth, breathing the same air, watching the same sky as I, how he’d look like, how he’d come into my life and drag me to places I probably don’t know.

“Can you show us our room?” I asked my dad the time I saw him standing in front of the fireplace, in the living room-I supposed this was it. He turned for a moment and scanned us from head to toe, it was a thing he liked doing often, but I never succeeded on reading his thoughts whenever he did it. Was he proud of us, was he disappointed, was he angry with the fact that he created two individuals that had nothing in common with him? Only God knew.

Without any words he got closer only to pass us and take a few steps before stopping outside a closed door, the one out of the other three that they were there. He opened the door and waited for us to enter. My brother let go of me and ran towards the room while i followed him with slower steps.

It wasn’t as big as my other one, and surely didn’t looked like the place I could ran to. I didn’t like the vibes it gave me, I was trapped in cell with no possible exit. I was sad and not in my safe place. The color on the four walls, faded yellow with a few shades of orange combined with the light outside, made it warmer than the rest of the house and more friendly-I couldn’t deny it-still I didn’t liked it.

I got out of the room and walked my way out, not wanting to spend more time inside. That’s where I found my mum and two other women-the one seemed in my age-talking. I stayed in my place keeping my eyes in them. Both were smiling, lovely people. The older lady, in a white dress and black shoes, had her short white/grey hair in a hairstyle I saw for the first time but it looked good. Her hands down her chest, giving me the impression of a woman with a hard past and strong personality that has had overcome a lot of obstacles. Her face with wrinkles mostly around the area of her eyes testified the tiredness after all of this years. The girl next to her, with a blue dress, had her red hair down her shoulders just all of the teenage girls, including myself. She had her arms next to her body and her right leg on the top of the left leg, probably because of the awkwardness or shyness. However, she watched my mother with respect and maybe in awe I wasn’t sure. And that’s when our eyes met and she smiled my way. I did too and started walking to her anticipating to hear her voice.

“Hello" I said and stood next to my mum and her. “I’m y/n"

“Hi I’m Lenora" she introduced her self, her voice calm and sweet, and extended her hand. I copied her movement and shook her soft hand, suddenly a warm wave hitting my body and relief every bad thought. I joined the rest of them trying to keep up with them for a while before starting another conversation with the new girl. I learnt a few things about her, that her mother was dead and probably her dad too even if she had faith that they’d meet one day. The day her mother died, she was a baby and Emma, the lady next to her, was the one in charge for raising her as she was the last one that saw her mother alive. She visited the church every Sunday and her mother’s grave everyday. It was a sad story of a girl that brought so much light with her appearance.

“And this is my brother Arvin right there" she turned behind her and showed me a boy, a few years older than us, standing outside of his front door and staring at us. He had one inside of his pockets and the other one next to him, bringing close to his lips every now and then so that he can suck on his cigarette. He had a hat on his head, covering half of his face. His body structure draw the figure of a boy-or a young man-that seemed distant from other human beings-also ready to fight everyone that prevent him from his goals. “He isn’t as friendly but he is a kind soul trust me. Hey Arvin come here"

He hesitated to come to us and assumed that maybe he didn’t want us there. I didn’t want to be there either but at least I wasn’t as rude as him. After a long time he finally threw his cigarette away and got closer. From the way he walked I could tell that he was the bad guy, the boy that no one messed with. And for a second I wondered if Lenora was lying to me.

“Arvin this is y/n” he took his time to check me from head to toe, not sure if he looked at me as a threat for his little sister or as a threat for himself. They don’t treat new people well, that’s what my friends have told me back in town. They will make sure that you gonna have the worst time living there, it’s in their mindset.

“Hey" I said trying to sound friendly, also distant and cold to match his way. His brown eyes locked with mine sending terror and fear to every cell of my body, my heart beating so loud, my breath desperately trying to let go of my lungs. I swallowed the air and bit my tongue inside of my mouth suddenly not knowing how to act, what to say, why he bought all those bad feelings. I wanted to move my lips, but it was like my system had shut down, not compromise with the commands my brain gave.

“Come inside, Jessica is waiting alone" he spoke to Lenora in a low adjective voice and with a strong accent, ignoring my existence now. “ It’s not right" he added after a while taking a cigarette out of his pocket. I watched as his fingers made a curve around the white death-that’s how I liked to call it-placed it to his rough lips. There was some dirt in them, his veins popping up blue against his pale skin.

“You’re right. Um..y/n do you want to meet Jessica, his girlfriend? She is just a year older than us but she would love you. And I think that she is also from where you’re from, right Arvin?” he had a girlfriend? He was able to fall in love? People that were in love weren’t supposed to be softer, kinder? All the books I had in my purple room gave me that impression of the world. Were the writers lying?

“Thank you but I don’t feel so good, probably from the trip. Maybe I need some sleep, but I’ll see you around right?” I asked.

She nodded her head with a smile and followed her brother on the opposite side. I noticed how huge influence he had on her, how she obeyed him with no hesitation, how she walked behind him like a lost puppy, how fast she got inside after he glanced back at me one more time and said something to her, knowing I wouldn’t listen to his judgment. I left the two ladies alone and met my brother outside our door, staring back at the house next to us. He had his arms crossed and a dead stare reminding me of our dad.

“What is it?” he left his arms fall and moved his eyes to my silhouette that stood next to him. I cupped my hand to his cheek and rubbed my thumb against his smooth childish skin.

“I don’t like him" he said feeling my terror, reading my thoughts. I pressed his head to my waist and hugged half of his small body, unexpectedly a warm wave of protectiveness hugging my spirit and creating a shield around us. I knew that if this young man was older he would have done a scene just because of the vibes he got from Arvin, or any Arvin. Unfortunately his petite form couldn’t help him at that moment.

“I don’t either"

______

A few weeks had passed, Lenora and I had got closer for my surprise. No that we were the same, our mindsets were completely different, our perspectives in a situation wouldn’t match as I thought they would-she was more innocent that me, with no experiences at all-yet she was the sweetest person I had met, the only one that wanted to learn about me, my interests, my opinions about certain topics, my favorite food, my music taste, my life back in my hometown, my friends.

Even at church, she was always next to me, giving me information for all of the people inside, the preacher, the couple in front of us, the older men in the back. She talked with nothing but lovely words-even for the people that had hurt her- and I really appreciated that from her.

Arvin-on the other hand-was nothing like his sister. He kept his cold-hearted manners towards me, my family. Never giving attention to any of us, usually standing some feet away with a cigarette between his lips and his signature pose, his hands inside his pockets and his head looking straight ahead.

But what attracted me to him was his way to travel with his mind and completely forget about the rest of the world. How difficult his expressions were to read, how his eyes softened for a moment, how he suffered in silence, how helpless, weak he seemed, how he was losing control and the powerful personality he present to the rest of us. I would stare at him for where the others were talking and taking notes of every of his movements in the back of my head. And he would scratch his nose, that’s how I knew his mind was back at his problems, and he would see me. And every time I would take my eyes away as fast as possible and look at the ground or my shoes, sending shivers down my spine and that unwelcoming vibe of his. However I wanted to approach him, willing to listen, help. A mysterious thing was calling me, it was scary, new, dangerous, also getting my adrenaline higher than ever, the feeling fascinating me.

“The Russel’s are gonna be here any time soon. Get yourselves ready" our mum announced leaving our room without closing the door on her way out. I exhaled loud and left my book by my side, scanning the wall at the top of me. I didn’t want any interaction with people tonight, especially with them, him. My body didn’t listen, just stayed in my bed, not eager on moving any time soon, paralyzed. I was shaking in the thought of being in the same house as him, his aura was bad for me, and especially my little boy that had so much in his mind but couldn’t express them how he wanted, like a grown man.

I put on my white dress and let my hair down. With every second that passed I said a prayer for something to happen and this dinner to get canceled-just what I was doing when I helped my mother set the dinner. But as soon as I heard my father talking, greeting our neighbors, I knew that it was pointless.

I greeted Lenora with a smile and a warm hug the pressure falling off of my shoulders. Then Emma and Earskell followed and after them Arvin. He was wearing his blue jeans as usual and a black shirt. He had his arms in his back pockets at the same time he walked inside giving me nothing but a short look and then smiling slightly at my parents.

I tried to avoid watching him for the rest of the night, still he was the main star in their conversation, always talking with his rough, low voice, giggling with some adult’s jokes, shifting on his chair a little when something would upset him. He had placed his arms on the table, showing his big muscles. Bet Jessica had her time of her life with those.

I couldn’t concentrate to what the girl next to me was saying anymore, or pay any attention to what they other ones were saying. It was only him that was running through my mind and how would I get him to notice me for more that just a second. How would I get closer to him, actually have a conversation like I do with his sister, how could I make him see that I am not a threat.

God, he had his way of dragging my eyes to him, be the worst person, a loser that had all my attention with no effort. An asshole that did nothing but hurting me with his awful attitude. And I would still search for him everywhere, thirsty for his hatefulness, his disdainful looks.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” the young boy at the corner of the room threw his pencil towards my way and hit my face, close enough to my eye. I made a grimace and put my fingers at the top of my cheek, while looking at my brother with wonder. He had his lips apart and seemed furious from where I was.

“Why did you hit me?” I asked.

“Mum said that you have to go on the living room. We’re having guests"

“Who?”

“The Russel’s and some others but I don’t know them. They look kind of scary to me"

Here we go again.

I left my room with him beside me. I tried to prepare my self, inside and out, not so much for the new people that had visited us, but mostly for Arvin even though I knew that he wouldn’t laid his eyes my way. I did have hope that one day I’d make this dream come true, but until then I couldn’t do anything else than waiting and anticipating.

When I entered the room, and while I was expecting to almost get ignored from all of them, my mum stood up from the sofa and walked to us. I saw a smile coming from her lips, something that she never did with me, my heart beating fast from all the unexpected warmth I felt from her.

“And this our daughter y/n. Come sit with us, she was studying so that’s why she was late. This is our new guests, Mr. Agapov and his son Julio�� my dad introduced me to the two men, me still being in shock due to his lies and his happy mental state and not actually listen to their names. It took me some time to take my eyes from my parents and notice who they were. And I wish I never did.

Julio Agapov. Probably the stupidest guy I have ever met in my life. A miserable kid that knew nothing but how to slip under a girl’s skirt and take advantage of that for his enjoyment. He never respected a woman’s body, he didn’t know how to treat a girl right, the path to her heart and mind. He was the jerk that would whistle while you’re pass him, the boy-that thought he was a man-that changed girls like shirts, or maybe even often than that.

“We know each other, we’re going to the same school" I heard him talking. “She’s very nice girl, despite the fact that we didn’t hang out a lot. My friends always talk about the “new face" of our school” he turned to me and winked, making my stomach flip inside me.

“Well take that as an opportunity to learn things for her from now on" the older man next to him, his father, said and lots of questions passed my brain at a fast speed. Why would we get to hang out now? Why would he get to know me? What was the reason behind this? How my parents learnt for their family?

“Excuse me?” I wondered and looked at all of them. “Can someone please explain to me what is happening? Why would he get to know me now?” I asked my father and for a second he dropped his mask before putting in back on, calmly.

“You’re getting married y/n. Everything’s ready except from some small details. Julio is your soon to be- husband now and you’re committed to him and no one else”

I felt like an item with no soul like a painting that was useless and dusty hung on a wall and was getting ready to be sold. I was standing there speechless, helpless. So that was the reason for all of the moving here? For me to get out of their way with a man that surely didn’t want me far away from my home? Miles apart from my little brother that needed me the most now, my friends that were the ones that really accepted me? Shouldn’t I get to choose who I’m going to let into my life? Into me? Shouldn’t I be the only one that had the right to select my man? Shouldn’t I get to fall in love first?

“No" that was all that my voice could say under my breath. No I didn’t want Julio Agapov. I didn’t want to let this man to be my first. I didn’t want him to touch me or kiss me, hug me. He wasn’t the one I imagined before getting to bed. He wasn’t the boy I was in love with. And he never would be.

I left this crowded room to join mine in a matter of seconds. I didn’t care that it might seemed rude or anything close to that. I felt cheap and humiliated by my own family. I never expected from them to do such a thing as this. I knew that they did not care as much, and it was alright now after all these years, but this had topped the line.

It wasn’t that much long when the door opened and the person that even my imagination couldn’t handle stepped inside and the aura changed quicker than expected. Always with those goddamned jeans, his dark blue, almost black hat at the top of his head and a packet of cigarettes hanging from his right pocket.

“What are you doing here?”

Y/n had a really normal question but Arvin didn’t know the answer to it. What was he doing there? Why he went there at the first place? Wasn’t he going to smoke?

“Are you okay?” he asked in return. She looked down at her feet and laughed. It sounded funny to her how he asked this when he already knew the answer. She was getting married to a boy she didn’t want so that her parents can have less in their mind. She was feeling great.

“You don’t care" she got up from her bed and walked to the window. Y/n felt him seconds later next to her, copying her movements.

“No I don't” he agreed with her statement. Yet, he felt the need to protect her, just like he did with Lenora all of these years, in a way that he didn’t know how to explain. She was the only one that could make him feel that to his bones. There were endless nights that he would stay up and analyze his emotions just so he can find what was causing him that and how he would fight it. Every night though was like an dead end road with no possible exits.

Both of them kept their eyes on the trees across them. She felt protected now the Arvin was there with her. Her heart was going crazy, her mind went wild. He had threw all of her fears away, she was feeling nice, capable of anything. And if he would ask her to follow him in a different city, away from them, she would say yes a million times. He had an influence to her thinking, the power to control her.

“Why are you here Arvin?” he was now focusing on her and her lips that had let out his name so lovely and beautiful. It surprised him the fact that he held his breath for a moment really without knowing, unconscious of his reactions.

It didn’t take a lot for her to take the courage to kiss him, the sensation of her lips against his waking up the butterflies on her stomach. Y/n felt the four walls falling, everyone disappear and a force taking her to another dimension.

His hands pulled her waist closer to his body, her fingers travelling from his neck to his chest and back. Their tongues intertwined, their kiss turning more to a little fight. He didn’t know why. Why he was doing that and why he was feeling like that but he enjoyed it. He liked how she was leaning against his body, how her fingers burnt his skin, how his tongue explored her mouth, how he wanted more.

Her fantasies weren’t even close to what she was experiencing now. How safe she was inside his embrace, how everything seemed far away from her, how her blood was boiling through her veins, the need of more knocking at her door.

None of them knew that Julio was watching them. What his mind was thinking, how he suddenly he needed y/n his, to take revenge of Arvin, to see y/n suffer. He was a bad person that never thought of the consequences that his actions had. He was taught to always get what he desired one way or another. And this moment was one like the rest. He was going to get y/n either she liked it or not.

“Please save me” that was what she whispered to him when they pulled from each other. They both needed to save one another.

[eatsleepandsupernatural]

Secret’s Out

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister!reader, Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Warnings: Self-harm, self-doubt, angst, bit of fluff at the end

Word Count: 1500

Masterlist

   ‘Y/N! Watch out!’ 

   Dean’s voice draws your attention away from the dead werewolf now lying at your feet and you swing around just in time to be thrown back by one that is still very much alive. The attack catches you off guard and you land on the dirty ground of the barn, your head hitting the edge of some broken bricks. You see stars as the werewolf towers over you, claws out, dragging deep gashes into your thighs. Your scream rips through the barn and your eyesight becomes blurry. The last thing you see before losing consciousness is Sam dragging the werewolf off you just before it moves to kill. 

   The first things you notice when you come to in the motel room is that it’s dark and you’re completely alone. Your head aches worse than every hangover you’ve ever experienced and your thighs are burning with a vengeance. You recall the wolf hunt and how quickly things went wrong. You and your brothers went in thinking there were only two, you were hugely mistaken and very outnumbered, there were three more werewolves than you had expected. The three of you had gone in, following normal formation; one around back, two through the front door, and then it all went to hell. Sam and Dean took two wolves each, while you took on the fifth, but nothing ever goes to plan.  

   You groan remembering your mistake and move to sit up causing your head to spin. You glance around the room for any trace of the boys, surprised that they would leave you alone in such a state, but you can’t make out any note or trace of them in the darkness of the room. You prepare yourself to stand up but a movement outside the window makes you freeze. You lock your eyes on the shadow and two familiar figures come into focus, all the tension leaving your body. You lay back down keeping your eyes on your brothers, frowning when you realise that they were arguing. The tension bubbling up, you throw the blankets off your legs and sit up again, determined to resolve whatever they were fighting about. 

   You glance down at your bare legs and gape at the sight of them. Your upper thighs were covered in blood-soaked bandages, the only skin visible scarred by your own hand. The realisation hits you like a truck, and you momentarily forget how to breathe. Your eyes are glued to the red and silver lines that mark your skin and your heart has dropped to your stomach. You have been finding different things to use ever since they found you with your mother dead in your arms, most recently you have been using one of Dean’s razor blades. The pain distracts you from the harshness of hunting and you have come to rely on it. You love your brothers, but they aren’t the easiest people to talk to, and you already know that Dean is probably madder than when you ate his pie. 

   With your back to the front of the motel, you hadn’t realised the boys had made their way to the door and the sound of it opening brought out an uncharacteristic yelp. 

   ‘Woah, Woah! No Y/N, you shouldn’t be up.’ Sam remarks gently, coming around beside you and gently easing you back under the covers. Dean watches from behind him, leaning over to turn on the lamp furthest away from you. You blink against the light, taking a moment to adjust, 

   ‘Concussion?’ You ask meekly, not meeting either one of your brother’s eyes.

   ‘Yea, pretty bad we think. Sam wanted to take you to the hospital. Almost did.’ Dean let the sentence hang in the air and your stomach curls in knots. You know what he’s hinting at and shame rises up in your chest. 

   Sam sits down next to you making you feel caged, Dean still towering over you. ‘Look, no-ones angry at you.’

   ‘Speak for yourself.’ Dean grumbles.

   Sam shoots him a look before turning back to you, ‘Dean and I understand that life hasn’t been easy for you. I mean, we picked you up at 14 and your life was turned upside down, to find out you had two adult brothers and that your dad was dead. No ones blaming you for having trouble with your feelings. You are the bravest young women I’ve ever met.’ Sam pauses to rub his chin. Something you know he does when he is stressed. 

   Dean notices and jumps in for the save, ‘We figured that going to the hospital would overcomplicate things. We will take you if you start getting worse but for now, we stay here and you’re on bed rest. We’ll go home when you’re better.’ He meets your eyes with a stern ferocity you hadn’t seen since you tried to sneak out of the bunker for a party. ‘I’m going to ask you this once, and you need to answer me honestly. Because if I find out that you didn’t, I will remove your bedroom door. Where is it?’ You cringe at the thought of Dean going through your bag and start to sit up but Sam’s hand is on your shoulder immediately. 

   You lay back with a groan, ‘Can you at least bring my bag here?’  

   ‘I’m just going to go through it after anyway, so you may as well just tell me where it is.’ 

   You glare at your older brother with as much anger as you can conjure up. ‘You are completely violating my privacy.’ 

   ‘You earn your privacy when you stop hurting the most precious thing in the world. Do you understand me? Now, where is it?’ Dean’s words shock you and you sit frozen gawking at him. ‘There’s, a um. There’s a small rip in the side of my bag, it’s in there.’ Dean nods happy with your answer and picks up your bag. You watch as he goes through it on the second bed, pulling out one of his flannels in surprise. 

   ‘I’ve been looking for this.’ He moves away from your bag briefly to pass the flannel to you and you smile gratefully, pulling it on over the t-shirt you had been left in. Dean grunts in surprise and you turn to see the razor in his hand. ‘This is mine too, thought I lost it.’ 

   ‘Sorry.’ 

   Dean hummed in response, pocketing the blade and turning to meet Sam’s gaze, eyebrows raised. 

   You watch as Sam and Dean have a silent conversation about you. Normally this sort of behaviour would bother you, but your head is pounding and after Dean’s slip up you are feeling a tad overwhelmed. You have always been closer with Dean considering Sam was Soulless when you first met him and then he sort of pushed you aside for Amelia, she was nice but you missed Dean. It took a little more time, some heart to hearts and a common goal for the two of you to bond, you were both determined to save Dean from the Mark of Cain no matter the cost and Sam begrudgingly let you help, believing you were old enough at 18 to handle it. Now, five years later, the three of you are thick as thieves and the guilt comes rushing back for betraying their trust. 

‘Y/N, do you need a rest or are you okay to keep talking?’ Sam asks, turning his attention on you. 

   You look up from the blanket and see that both of them are watching you, concern evident on their faces. ‘Nah, I’m okay. My head hurts but I’m not dizzy or anything.’ 

   ‘Alright,’ Sam nods and clears his throat, throwing one more glance at Dean before speaking again. ‘Things are going to have to change because neither of us could stand to lose you. Every morning we all say how we are out of ten. We don’t have to talk about why, but we all need to be aware that not everyone’s okay.’ 

   You nod, understanding what he is asking you. You could manage that. 

   ‘I’m the bathroom police.’ Your eyes widen and Sam sighs in what seems almost like defeat. ‘You get ten minutes.’ You roll your eyes but don’t argue, you know Dean well enough that he’ll drop it five if you do. 

   ‘Okay, now that the new rules are in place, it’s time to sleep. Scoot over midget.’ Sam stood up from the bed beside you and Dean got in beside you once his three extra layers of clothing had been removed. 

   Although you never intended for your brothers to find out, you felt a little less anxious than usual when Sam turned the lamp off. With nothing to hide and the support of your older brothers, you fell asleep with a small smile on your face, despite the pain from your injuries.  

Tags: @akshi8278​

[ghostiewriter]

meet james maybank | character inspection

This is an insight into James Maybank, a character commonly used within my outer bank fanfictions. He’s portrayed as JJ and Kiara’s firstborn and eldest son. This is just to give you an idea on what he’s like rather than having to explain in each one-shot he shows up in!

James Maybank is the eldest child and first son to JJ and Kiara, in the little second generation I’ve created. The couple had him when they were twenty-three years old, he was admittedly unplanned. Most of their early 20s were spent travelling and the pregnancy with James did change their plans a little, but they loved him relentless. In fact, it gave JJ an excuse to finally convince Kie to go to a bunch of different theme parks since they had a kid and it was “basically a law” for them to do so. Yet, despite the fact he was an accident, it didn’t make him any less loved. It was nerve-wracking, he was the first venture into parenthood that the couple had ever had but James was also just the perfect little mix of his parents (whether that made the situation better or worse is debatable).

The name James was chosen by JJ, a little nod of respect to his mother (something that will be explained further in a certain one shot). He was the perfect little summer baby, born on 31st July, smack middle of summer. Despite being born at peak summer time, James isn’t the surfer boy you’d expect him to be. He loved the beach, don’t get me wrong. He enjoyed all the memories he had growing up, learning how to surf and building sandcastles with his little siblings but much to JJ’s disappointment, James wasn’t much of a surfing fan.

But where JJ’s love for the ocean lacked in his eldest son, his skill and interest in mechanics did not. Ever since he was a young child, James had the oddest fascinations with cars. Maybe it started from JJ taking him to work on the few days Kie would be on the mainland for her own work or maybe it was because he grew up watching old episodes of Top Gear, but James Maybank became a motorhead. The second he was old enough, he would be at his father’s side, oil and grease on his hands as he learnt everything he could. It started as a hyper-fixation and ended up being a passion. And just like his mother, James has a bit of a ‘do it yourself’ attitude. He is stubborn as hell, so when he was young and his grandparents (mostly Anna Carrera) was openly against his fascination and passion to be a mechanic, well you can guess how much it fuelled him to pursue this career further.

Like mentioned above, he is a healthy mix of his parents but maybe the combination is more dangerous. Whilst he has the wit and quick-thinking of his mother, the boy has the schemer ways and knack for trouble just like his father has. Again, a dangerous combination. James is a charmer, he has a way with words that just traps people in and make them want to be around him. He is a natural extrovert, a social butterfly if you will. You can throw him in a room with anybody and he would come out of it with new friends, it’s just the way James is. Even as a child, he just seemed to hold a charm over people that could not be explained.

Though, sometimes it can be mistake for arrogance and this is where the trouble slips in. James is a very self-aware person. He knows that he is a good-looking guy, he is quite intelligent and a bit of a natural flirt. But by god does it make his ego unbearable at times. Kiara claims this is something he gets from his father, but James seems to have an issue in letting his mouth run sometimes and it gets him into trouble with others. He is a friendly, flirty guy—you can imagine how many times he might have accidentally spoken to the wrong person and how many times he has realised his charming words won’t get him out of a fight with a very pissed off significant other (James seems to have a habit of flirting with people that are already taken, again not on purpose but more just because he can’t help it). His ego is definitely one of his fatal flaws that will come to bite him in the ass later on.

Despite this, James is one of the most loyal people you can ever have in your life. As a brother, as a friend, as a son. This boy is just the epitome of blind loyalty. Once you are in his life, you are under the protection of James Maybank, I don’t make the rules. The people he cares about mean the world to him, and though he may have a lot of friends, his inner circle is smaller than you would think. These are the people he can let loose around, not worry about reputation or appearance. He can be his usual loveable but goofy self. James thrives on making people smile and laugh, especially those in his inner circle. So although he may be an egotistical bastard at times, he can be quite the sweetheart too.

There are a lot of relationships to go through so I’ll focus on the main ones in James’s life. The main one being his relationship with his parents. Much to Kiara’s dismay, James is a daddy’s boy. Since he could crawl, he would always be at his father’s side. It was nerve-wracking for JJ considering his fears of fatherhood and walking into the unknown, but he was the best dad you could ever think of. James has a very healthy relationship with his parents, a very open one too. He has grown up in an environment that he knows is a safe place and wouldn’t be judged so there was very little he had to hide from his parents. Plus the fact they were a part of an illegal heist when they were his age does help him get away with quite a lot of stuff. James was a bit of a tester though, considering he was the first child and his parents were only 23 when they had him, but it did mean that everyone was learning together. With his short temper (courtesy of his father), James can get quite heated in argument very quickly which was a pain during his early teen years, but after reaching that eventual maturity, his relationship with his parents was a breeze.

His relationship with each of his siblings is quite different. He probably gets on the easiest with Gabriel, purely because his younger brother is a fairly chilled guy and avoids conflict as much as he can. Gabriel tends to be the first person James would go to whenever he needs to rant or get advise (his younger brother is oddly wise) and he tries to be the same.

Whereas, James’s relationship with the other twin is much more complicated. James and Zack are similar in many ways and that tends to be the problem. Both hot-headed and stubborn, they tend to clash and bicker the most. Deep down, James knows he would do anything for his brother but that doesn’t take away from the fact his youngest brother can be a right pain in his ass at some points.

Now James is an overprotective bastard, this can be seen by anyone. But his overbearing ass is definitely the strongest when it comes to his little sister Elliot. He promptly chooses to ignore the fact she could kick everyone’s ass and plays the part of ‘protective big brother’ as a badge of honour. She learnt quite quickly to just let him play his part, and though it can be irritating at some points, it means he cares so Elliot doesn’t mind too much. James just sees all his younger siblings as his responsibility to keep as happy and protected as he can. He loves his siblings, he would do anything for them just as they would for him.

The second generation of pogues are a big bunch and whilst James is friendly with most of them (maybe going as far as considering them to be his siblings too) his best friend is most definitely Charlotte Routledge. Being the first kids in the group, it was hard for James to not be around Charlie most of his life. She was born a couple of months after he was and a lot of their childhood photos are proof that the two of them were rarely seen without each other. Charlie is like a sister to him, someone he would trust with his life. She probably knows him better than she knows herself, and vice versa. One would very rarely be seen without the other growing up, and they became quite the troublesome duo. However, Charlie is also one of the few people that isn’t afraid to put James in his place. He can be cocky and arrogant and she is happy to knock him down a few notches. She is the slap of reality in his life (something James quite often needs) and after so many years of friendship, she soon learnt to help him avoid trouble by scheming with him rather than trying to stop him. Charlie Routledge is one of the most important people in his life, just like her father was to his own.

Now, the last important relationship I should tell you about is with Clover Martelle. Depending on who you ask, the view of their relationship can be very different. For Clover, James is nothing but an arrogant asshole who always gets what he wants. To James, Clover is the best thing to ever walk this earth. It’s a long story for these two, a long history that goes back all the way to their first day of school together. You could jokingly say that James is his father’s son, falling for a stubborn girl who happily put him in his place and resisted the charming smile he gave everyone else. But that is just what James loves about her. She is beautiful, but James fell for so much more than that. She was strong and kind and stood up for what she believed in. Little James Maybank has been whipped since he was 5 years old. Their story and Clover’s eventual realisation that his feelings are requited is one that will eventually be explored.

Physically, James is healthy and fit. Except for the fact he had to be kept in hospital for an extra few days after he was born. But in every other aspect, he is generally quite normal and well. The only thing that he does need aid for is his eyesight. Since he was around 4 years old, James has always worn glasses. He wears glasses because he has a “lazy eye” (medically known as amblyopia) which just means one eye is weaker than the other. In James’s case, it is his left eye. Glasses were a bit of a menace for him as a child, he hated it and usually did his best to avoid wearing them. But by the age of 8, he had grown up a bit and accepted his glasses and he has never really had an issue with them since. Growing up with his parents being Potterheads, James distinguishably has worn round glasses like the main protagonist since he had first watched the movies. It helped a lot with his confidence to wear them.

Mentally, James’s health is also quite good. Like mentioned earlier, growing up in an open environment where you were aware that you could talk to your parents and not be judged really did help. He has always been open with his feelings and thoughts, always been given healthy solutions to deal with his issues. The fact that his parents respect his privacy and space and give James the time he needs to open up is also a big help. Like his father, he can sometimes get lost in his own head and use other things to distract him but he will eventually talk to someone about what is bothering him—whether that be his parents, his siblings or his friends. He knows he will always have someone there for him.

JJ and Kiara had no plans to settle down anytime soon. They were young and adventurous and had the whole world at their feet. It was no surprise to anyone that the second they graduated, they hopped on a plane and visited all the places they only dreamed of going. They would go back and forth between a new place and returning home for a few weeks to visit the other pogues, and have a few dinners with the Carreras to keep Anna happy. It just so happened that during one of their trips back to the island, there was a massive rager at the Boneyard for Halloween. Seeing no harm in this, the couple went and had the time of their lives. Little did they know that one little night would change their lives.

James wasn’t planned or necessarily expected at least for a couple of years. Unlike John B and Sarah who had a wedding pretty soon after they graduated, JJ and Kiara saw no rush in doing so. They had all the time in the world. However, a wrench was thrown into their plans when that positive pregnancy test showed up in their lives. Despite the fear and uncertainty the couple shared on the path of parenthood, they decided to keep the baby and venture forward with this unexpected path. It became one of the best decisions in their lives.

James was the sweetest young boy, a healthy mix of his parents both in attitude and in appearance. He was energetic and bubbly and charming. He loved people and loved making new friends. He was also the catalyst to the large family the young couple would have.

James knows of his parents’ background, where the two of them came from and how they got to the place they are now. In classic JJ fashion, of course his son follows through in the teasing and mocking of the other kooks. To keep Anna happy, they would attend the odd party here or there at the country club and James would do everything in his power to seem like the most charming man and simultaneously the kook parents worst nightmare. James is protective of his family, and knowing how they treated his father, he doesn’t plan on giving them the time of day to get under his skin.

Being the eldest, he also feels as though he holds a responsibility over his siblings to be a role model. Unfortunately, his big mouth can get him into a lot of trouble and usually it’s one of his siblings that will be helping him out of trouble. He’s a prankster, he can’t help it. He always has something up his sleeve, and this just so happens to be the exact thing that gets him on Clover’s bad list the first time they meet.

His relationship—or lack thereof—with Clover Martelle began when young James Maybank decided it would be hilarious to put gum on one of the chairs in the classroom. That chair just so happened to belong to Clover who did not find it very funny and in retaliation humiliated him in front of the class by doing the same back to him. It was the day James Maybank became absolutely whipped for her.

She was the person all the kook bastards thought they were entitled to tell him to stay away from. Even Clover herself made it pretty clear she didn’t want to be near James but that didn’t stop him. And eventually, years of pining and being like a love-sick puppy would finally blossom into a beautiful relationship between the two—but not without its hardships and bumps in the road (but you’ll just have to stay tuned to see how their story plays out!).

Being the oldest means that James is also the first to go through everything, including school. He knew pretty early on that he wanted to be a mechanic, his love for cars and motorcycles and boats proved this passion this further. In fact, by the age of 16, he had managed to build his own motorbike along with the help of his father and it’s his most prized possession and greatest accomplishment to this day.

James is a fairly laid back guy, he doesn’t like to plan too much into the future or dwindle on what is going to happen. He is definitely more of a “go with the flow” type of guy and that perfectly describes his outlook on life. Though his arrogance may be his fatal flaw, it also fuels the confidence that makes James who is and it’s a part of him you will grow to love.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) chaabar STAR WARS

He can’t breathe.

Tucked inside the darkest corner of the maintenance closet, 7567 knots his fingers into pale blond curls and pulls, trying to ground himself as he wheezes. Tears are hot on his bruised cheek, and it makes the swollen skin sting - Trainer Reau must have split the skin open with her gauntlet when she’d punched him - but, not ever the pain of the injury can distract the young cadet from his panic.

Eights is gone. Eights is gone, he’s been taken away for decommissioning, and 7567 is afraid. He’s next, he knows this, because he’s the only one left to take. He’s the mutant, the mistake, and he knows too well what the Longnecks do to mistakes. His entire was defective, all but one, and now there’s only two of them left. Keeli is perfect though, he has dark hair and dark eyes like every other clone, unlike the rest of their batch.

Keeli will be safe, but 7567 isn’t.

The scientists will be coming for him, 7567 knows, because trainer Reau had taken great amusement from telling him so. They’d come for him, and they’d take him to the labs - they’ll cut him open while he’s still awake to see where they went wrong. They’ll tie him down and make him watch as they put pieces of him into jars, and when they have all they need, they’d feed the rest of him to Trainer Vau’s striil. He’s so defective, they won’t even bother recycling him.

The memory of Trainer Reau’s voice has panic crawling up 7567’s throat like the bugs she had forced him to eat during survival training, with hundreds of legs and sharp pincers. He sobs harder, curling tighter around himself, breath catching in his throat and rattling in his chest. He itches and burns like there are things under his skin, and his nails dig into his scalp. He claws, scratches, and hiccups - anything to make the panic go away.

He doesn’t want to be decommissioned.

He can’t breathe - can’t get enough air past the bugs in his throat. He feels like his heart is clawing out of his chest, like his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He doesn’t want to be eaten, he doesn’t want to be taken away.

Panicking as desperately trying to muffle his cries, 7567 is still aware of the door to his little closet opening, casting light over his huddled form. He curls tighter in on himself, trying to hide away from the eyes watching him, burning against his skin. Then, the light is gone, plunging the closet into darkness once more, and 7567 shakes in fear, hyper aware of another person’s breathing invading the space he had hidden himself in.

“Hey,” A voice nearly identical to his own speaks, and despite himself, 7567 finds himself relaxing at the comforting sound. “Hope you don’t mind, I’m looking for a place to hide too.” 7567 sniffles, pushing his face further into his arms. “Can I come sit?”

He hiccups, then shrugs, despite wanting to tell the other boy to go away. He’s a mutant, if another cadet actually wants to be near him, then there’s not actually anything he can do about it. He’s the lowest of the low, barely even a clone, nothing he wants matters.

There’s a shuffle of fabric, and 7567 knows without needing to see that the other cadet had sat down just outside of his arm’s reach. “Priest is on a warpath.” The other boy says cheerfully, “But I think Baar’ur Gilamar is trying to stab him with a scalpel, so he won’t be looking for me for awhile - so I gave the medics the slip.” 7567’s breathing calms the longer the other cadet speaks, and he lets himself relax as his voice washes over him. “Alpha won’t be very happy with me -” 7567’s breath catches, “- he says I shouldn’t be running around with a head wound.”

Only CCs trained with the Alpha-class clones. There’s a CC hiding in the closet with him. He wasn’t supposed to be near the CCs; he’s a CT, they’re not supposed to be around him, they’re not supposed to talk to him unless it’s to give orders. Even worse - he’s a mutant CT sitting within touching distance of a CC.

“You’re a CC.” He whispers in horror, panic cresting once more. Trainer Reau would be so angry with him if she knew he was contaminating a CC.

“Well, yeah .” The other cadet says easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m CC-2224, who are you?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” 7567 says numbly.

CC-2224 scoffs, “Why not?”

7567 shakes fearfully; Trainer Reau was going to punish him so bad for this. She’d probably send him right to the Longnecks - he’d prefer another beating to being sent to the scientists. “You’re a CC .” He says again, voice growing shrill, trying desperately to make this CC understand.

“Yeah.” CC-2224 repeats slowly, but there’s something calculating in his tone. “What about it?”

“I’m a CT .”

“So?” The Command-classer asks, suspicious now. “I talk to CTs all the time.”

“During training!” 7567 cries, tugging on his hair. “We’re not supposed to talk to you outside of training!”

“What?” CC-2224 sounds stunned, “Why? That’s ridiculous!”

7567 just starts sobbing again. He was going to be decommissioned for this, Trainer Reau was going to be so angry.

“Please don’t cry.” CC-2224 says in alarm, and a small hand lands on his arm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“They’re gonna decommission me!” 7567 wails, and hands pull his fingers away from his hair before he can start pulling on the ugly curls again. He squirms, flinches, but CC-2224 holds tight, reeling him in so that he could wrap his arms around him. 7567 finds himself pressed against CC-2224’s chest, his head tucked under the other cadet’s chin. Hands rub his back, warm and grounding. At a loss and overwhelmed, his emotions shutting down, 7567 melts into CC-2224’s hug, heart racing and tears on his cheeks.

He doesn’t know what to do with this.

“It’s okay, vod’ika.” CC-2224 promises, voice hard. “I won’t let them decommission you.”

He wants to ask what CC-2224 could do to stop the Longnecks if they came to take him, but there’s determination in the other cadet’s voice. There’s a hard conviction to his words that chases away any doubt that he wouldn’t stop them. 7567 finds himself believing him; he wants to believe him.

“Let’s go find Alpha.” 2224 says, and, to his confusion, he gently headbutts 7567. “He’ll help.”

 

 

Alpha-17 doesn’t know what to think of him, that much is obvious to 7567 when CC-2224 drags him into his batch’s bunkroom. The older clone tears into 2224 for leaving the infirmary with his injury first, a massive thing hidden behind bacta bandages that hides one half of 2224’s face, and 7567 is shocked that the other cadet - he's barely taller than 7567, they’re probably in the same growth cycle, even if 2224 is a little older - could still move around and speak properly with the wound.

Then, once his cutting words for 2224 dry up, Alpha-17 turns to 7567, dark eyes studying him with growing interest. His attention is constantly pulled back to 7567’s hair, but there’s no disgust in his expression, something 7567 had grown accustomed to, but instead it’s calculation. “How old are you, cadet?”

7567 snaps to attention, “Three, sir!”

Alpha-17 hums, circling 7567 like a predator, and 7567 turns to always keep him in eyesight. He’d learned that much from Trainer Reau, and it seems to amuse the Alpha-classer. “Must be good, huh, vod’ika - to have made it this far with hair like that.”

“I’d like to think so.” 7567 says before he can stop himself, then kicks himself - Keeli was always saying he never thought before he spoke, and it got him into a lot of trouble with their trainers. But Alpha-17 doesn’t lash out, instead he snorts.

Next to him, 2224 grins, “What d’you think, Alpha?”

“I think you put yourself into danger you didn’t need, kid.” Alpha-17 says sharply, turning a glare on the smaller clone, but 2224 only lifts his chin stubbornly.

“He said they were going to decommission him.” CC-2224 retorts, “That’s not fair!”

This is the wrong thing to say.

“Life’s not fair, Kote!” Alpha-17 thunders.

The room goes quiet - there’s horror in 2224’s squadmates’ expressions, and agony in Alpha-17’s. 2224 himself just looks confused as the silence grows.

“Who’s Kote?” Once again, 7567’s tongue gets away with him, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He’s not supposed to ask questions.

“Doesn’t matter.” The older clone says harshly, and 7567 flinches. Alpha-17 stays tightly wound for a moment, before he lets out a rattling breath and forces himself to relax, his expression rearranging into a carefully neutral mask. “You have potential, kid.” He tells him, then glances at 2224 for a moment, “I’ll do what I can.” Alpha-17 grumbles, rubbing a hand aggressively through his short hair. “Now get out of my sight.”

7567 bolts.

 

(The next day, 7567 and Keeli report to their training room, but Trainer Reau is nowhere in sight. Instead, an older clone stands in front of them, arms crossed over his muscular chest and a sharp grin on his face. He's as tall as Alpha-17, and just as heavily muscled, and it almost hurts to look up at him; his dark hair is just a touch longer than regulation length, and there's a deep scar scored across the bridge of his nose, more visible scars peeking out from his training reds. He had seen fights, and he'd walked away from them in one piece.

“Hey there, verd’ike.” The clone says, voice darkly amused. “A-77 at your service - or Fordo. But you can call me Captain, or Sir.” His smile grows wider, more dangerous, and 7567 swallows nervously, Keeli shifting awkwardly next to him. “You answer to me now.”)

[one-shot-plus-size]

From Sons of Anarchy to Mayans MC

Jax's sister must hide from the revenge of SAMCRO enemies, goes to Mayans MC Santo Padre. And he catches the eye of a la presidente.

Chapters 7/20

Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. They will accept any attention and criticism :)

Part 6

Pov Olivia

- I may not know much about Mexican dishes, but I make great meat for the grill. - I was looking at Ezekiel sitting in the passenger seat.

- Interesting -  he rubbed his beard - we'll pick up the order from my father, maybe you can do the part your way and I'll do it my way. We will see what the boys will taste better.

- He accepts the challenge - I smiled widely.

We stopped in front of the store whose signboard proclaimed "Carniceria Reyes".

- Do you have a store? - I got out of the car.

- It is a pop store - he opened the door and let me in.

Behind the counter was a man with glasses, grey hair and a very tired face. Every wrinkle showed that this man has gone through a lot in life.

- Good morning - I smiled.

- Good morning - he smiled.

- Hi pop - Ezekiel went behind the counter to his father.

- This is Olivia, our new tenant in the clubhouse.

- Nice to meet you - he wiped his hands in the apron and came up to me.

- Nice to meet you too - I stretched out my hand.

Of course he ignored my hand and hugged me slightly.

- Felipe called me, I am too young to call you," he smiled.

Now I know from whom Ezekiel inherited a big and wide smile, and from whom Angel gained dark eyes.

- Bright - I nodded my head.

We took an order from the club, bought alcohol and a few other food items for lunch. We went back to the club, I started to prepare meat side by side with Ezekiel. Now I had a mission, I had a job that was taking me away from thinking about my family. I made such steaks as Chibs taught me. I was hoping that the boys would taste it and somehow we would break the first ice cream. After an hour we left the kitchen and went straight to the square in front of the building. There was a bonfire in the middle and a barbecue a bit further on. We approached Gilli, who apparently was responsible for the grate.

- My version of meat and its version of meat - said Ezekiel.

- Yoł - I heard Angel's voice - the ring is free.

He pointed his thumb behind him walking in my direction.

- How about our arranged sparring ? - He smiled slightly bending his head

- You know you don't have to, right? - Ezekiel leaned over to me.

- I know - I looked at him - but I have the impression that your brother needs someone to wipe his nose.

- It will be a flaw in his ego - he laughed.

- I like this plan - I smiled wide - in 10 minutes in the ring.

- Fucking time to fight - Hank roared standing a few steps away.

- You guys are like animals - I looked around.

- We are - Ezekiel nodded his head.

- You know you don't have to, right? - Bishop came up to me.

- Ezekiel already told me that - I looked at him - but your man would need to rub his nose.

- Although I like this idea, I'm still not entirely sure. He is almost two heads taller than you - he looked at Angela.

- Thanks to this slower - I slipped my shirt off my hips - Bishop will manage, will you help me wrap my hands?

- Sure - he nodded his head.

- I felt in my bones that your brother Ezekiel decided to fight today - I pulled the blue tape out of my pocket - and I have it with me.

Bishop grabbed my hands and wrapped them calmly. His hand skin was horny and rough but very warm. I raised my eyes and looked at his face, he was staring at my hands with an unpleasant face expression.

- Bish - I spoke quietly.

He raised his eyesight, looked into my eyes and smiled slightly.

- Don't worry, I can manage. - I let go of his eye.

- Never in my life has a woman ever beaten in this ring so I am not surprised that I am worried.

- Chibs taught me and I know how to fight. And if you hit me, you'll dress me up like this?

- Sure - he nodded his head.

- Well, I smiled.

- Come on, how long can you wait ? - Angel yelled.

I looked in his direction, he was standing in the ring in short shorts and without a shirt.

- He will try to distract you with his look - Bish finished wrapping my hand.

- He will not distract me - I twisted my head - I prefer older men.

I smile to Bishop by letting go of his eye.

- Ready to fail? - I set off for the ring.

He smiled only wide and moved around the ring. I breathed deeply, tied my hair in a bun and entered the ring.

- I will be gentle - he moved his fingers.

- Sure - I smiled - don't be shy.

He tried to take me by surprise, I dodged his punch.

Pov Bishop

I stared at the young one, until the very end I was not convinced about this crazy idea.

- Don't worry about Angela - Marcus laughed.

- I am worried about her - I was staring at her.

- Believe me, you have nothing at all - he pushed my shoulder.

I looked at him, he smiled fiercely.

- Throw it out because I can see that it's carrying you - I moaned.

- She caught your eye what ?

- What ? - I wrinkled my eyebrows.

- Oh, please, I saw your gaze.

- Shut up - I purr - not a word.

Marcus already wanted to say something, but Ez got in his way.

- Ouch - he said prospect.

I took a look at the ring, Olivia hit Angela's belly several times. She moved away from him, he leaned against her knees with his hands and breathed hard looking at her.

- It's only been a few minutes and you're getting off? - Olivia laughed.

We came closer to the ring, Angel was breathing all red. I was wondering whether from tiredness or anger. One move was enough to beat him, he moved on her like an angry bull. She pushed him away, he flew on the net. She turned quickly, hit him with her foot in the bend of the knee and knocked him to the ground. She sat on his hips, grabbed his hands and crushed him to the ground. She leaned over to him, whispered something in his ear, and he peeled off. I have never heard guys roar so loudly in their lives.

Pov Olivia

Angel was lying in the ring on his back and breathing hard, I sat under the net and tried to calm down.

- I pay tribute - he raised his head slightly and looked at me - respect.

- Oh please - I smiled slightly - you don't look like a man who would admit defeat.

- I wouldn't call it a defeat - I wouldn't nudge my finger.

- Sure, tell yourself that. - I got up and walked up to him.

I stretched out my hand to him.

- You're good, but you're too slow - I smiled - come on, get up.

He looked at me with curiosity for a while, but finally he grabbed her and pulled up.

- I'll take it as a compliment and the fact that you're flying at me - a devious smile appeared on his lips.

- Dream Angel - I patted him on the chest - I don't like young people, I prefer older and more experienced ones.

- Oh you don't even know what the tongue and fingers can do - he smile when he put his tongue out to me.

- Sure - I laughed and walked closer to it.

Our chest was in contact, I stared at his eyes as he licked his lips.

- Even if this tongue could work wonders with club whores, it would not be enough for me. He does not need a young man who is horny about anything that moves. I prefer mature men who care about their women.

- You don't know me - he twisted his head.

- Your reputation precedes you Reyes - I patted him on the chest.

He snorted under his nose and smiled a little. We both came down from the ring, everyone patted me on the back. Bishop and Marcus came up to me, I smiled a little and then I curled.

- You do not look so bad - Marcus was smiling from ear to ear.

- I let him recover - I pured.

- Bish leave us for a moment - Marcus patted him on the shoulder.

The president nodded his head and left to the boys. Marcus sat next to me and patted me on the knee.

- The sons are not here, you don't have to be like that. You don't have to demand from yourself not knowing what.

- How do you know that I was like that with the Sons?

- Olivia, I have eyes and I saw what was happening. You had to prove to them that you deserved to be with them, you were afraid that they would judge you. Those here, the Mayans are not like that. They won't judge you if your leg is rolled up. At the moment nobody thought you were hopeless because you let Angel hit you, they are happy because you won. These people here - he pointed out to everyone - they are happy because you beat one of them. You've rubbed his nose in it, be happy about it. I know it hurts that Jackson sent you away, but the longer you keep tearing it up, the more it will hurt. Use this time to be with them, meet them and have fun. Within reason, of course.

- Thanks to Marcus, I'm up, these words mean a lot to me.

- All right Chica, and now go let them embrace you a bit because you look like a mess.

I laughed and moved towards the club, Bishop was sitting on the stairs in front of the building.

- Could you take my face? - I smiled a little - I think he cut my lip.

- Sure - he got up - come on.

He stretched out his hand to me, I grabbed his hand and we went inside. His rough hand perfectly matched my much smaller one. I smiled under my nose and let myself be pulled to the back. I sat down on the table, Bish took out the first aid kit from the cabinet and stood between my legs. I could feel the warmth of his body, I closed my eyes when he started to bury by my lip. His fingers gently muscled my skin.

- Okay, finished - he breathed - he doesn't look bad. The wound on his mouth will probably hurt for some time.

I opened my eyes and only now I realized how close he was to me. I looked into his dark eyes, smiled gently. I closed when my lips roasted, his hand found my cheek.

- It is good that nothing happened to you - he breathed.

- I told you from the very beginning that I can fight - I raised my hand slightly and touched his beard with my fingers.

He smiled, closed his eyes and purr.

- Oh, I was surprised, did I find the weakness of el presidente?

- Just don't tell that gang - he pointed his thumb at the door behind us - because they won't let me live.

- I think that each of them has weak points, maybe even not knowing about them - I laughed a little.

My fingers were still scratching his beard, the door from the back opened with a bang.

- This food is jammed....- the noise has stopped.

I breathed, took my hand from Bishop's beard and looked over his shoulder at Angela. He was standing with a burger in his hand halfway to his mouth. The momentary shock was replaced by a wide smile.

- Shut up, Reyes, or I'll kick your ass a second time - I pushed el presidente away and slipped to the ground - what are you eating there?

I walked up to him, grabbed his burger and bit him. I covered my mouth with my hand, chewed the food and looked at Angel and then Bishop.

- It's even fucking better than I remembered - I moaned - he proposes to go back to the barbecue because I don't think there is much left.

I laughed and left the room, I heard Bishop threatening Angel before leaving.

Part 8

[rirururu]

Why Zenitsu is my Favourite Character in Kimetsu no Yaiba

NO SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA

Yeah, it’s pretty cool that the guy can one-shot anything he sees. Let’s just get that out of the way. It’s hype. He’s like a Pikachu version of One Punch Man but with his personality in the supreme opposite end of the spectrum which consequently makes him just as funny and badass to watch. I think that’s initially what draws most people to his character on a surface level. Heck, that’s what made him so endearing when I was introduced to the series as well. But he’s evolved into so much more than that for me over time.

AKA. That in-depth analysis post that I make every year that is way too long because I want to talk about something so badly but no one else is doing it.

I remember catching up to the manga a few weeks ago and not being able to choose who my favourite character was. They’re just all so good. It was at some point that I realized while flipping the pages, to my (pun intended) shock, Zenitsu was and probably always has been the character I looked forward to seeing the most. It’s like he snuck up on me and was already clinging before I even noticed he was there. Sure the running gag where he fights while sleeping is amusing to watch. Sure the Thunder Breath is an amazing technique. He has a great design to back all of that up, not to mention that his backstory tugs at the heartstrings. But change a few words around and you could apply that reasoning to basically any character in the series.

There lies my dilemma where I couldn’t decide on a favourite of the cast. What stuck out to me and started setting Zenitsu apart from the rest was how he fought. Of course, this isn’t the only reason I like him so much. However, I feel that a lot of people misinterpret his fighting style so it seems best to use that as a starting point.

Sadly, the fact that he needs to be unconscious in order to battle and that his conscious personality is so abhorrently pathetic compared to his sleeping one isn’t new to anime and has been done countless times. Like many people, I expected the usual revelation of Zenitsu having a split personality or alter ego or “dark yandere side.” I’ve seen either it or some variation of it so many times in anime, manga, and video games. I mean, how else would anyone explain his ability to fight while sleeping? It’s the easiest way to have any of it make sense and is the route most stories like to go.

It very quickly seemed like the path his character was taking would be entertaining but ultimately not unique in any way. Seeing as most characters of his type rely on the gag / fighting style in order to remain zany and popular, he most likely wouldn’t develop much past it either. But as the series progressed and very early on (ie. where the anime is now), you come to realize that this simply isn’t the case.

To begin with, it’s apparent just by watching episode 17 that there is no crazy side of his mind at work here. When Zenitsu sleeps, he fights. When he fights, he's dreaming. He states here immediately after waking up that he had such a wonderful dream about being powerful like he’s always wanted. He had a dream where he was strong enough to defeat the demon and brave enough to make decisions. But evidently, that’s exactly what he was doing in reality. When he dreams, he’s the one controlling his own body in the outside world and making judgements on what to do in battle.

How does he do this without say, ramming into a tree about 5 seconds in? He reveals pretty early after his introduction that he’s always had amazing hearing. It was so advanced that it creeped others out and drove them away. One statement he makes in particular is that he can recognize entire conversations that are happening around him even as he’s sleeping. Now, that’s interesting. Why did the series bring that up if it wasn’t important? He can sense someone’s presence, emotions, and even intentions based on sound alone. It’s perfectly logical that, just like Tanjiro, he’s able to detect his surroundings except using his ears instead of his nose. He most likely goes one step further to project that into his dreams in order to fight without any eyesight.

In other words, there is no alter ego. It’s all him. Zenitsu’s just that good. When he sleeps, he’s culminating everything that he trained and all of his hopes and wishes towards becoming a better person who doesn’t run away into that one moment. When he sleeps, he rids himself of all of his fears and doubts so then his body can fight completely on instinct and clear-minded focus. He can do it. But his low self-esteem and fear of dying alone gets in the way. It’s only inevitable that it does. After all, he’s been told his entire life by everyone except one person about how useless he is until he actually believed it. He can’t even stomach accepting compliments on his strength.

That isn’t a normal reaction to being told that one is strong. That scene did a pretty good job of highlighting the contrast between how Zenitsu (very happily) embraces praise on being great versus how he completely rejects the idea of anyone thinking he isn’t a useless coward. It says a lot that his image of himself is so bad that his own body and mind developed this unique way of fighting and force him into losing consciousness as a defense mechanism whenever there’s a threat of death nearby.

Of course, the series makes it no secret that this “running gag” has taken a toll on Zenitsu’s mental health. He always awakens believing that everything he just did only happened in a dream, which explains why he clung to the idea of Shoichi being the powerful one so vehemently. He never gets the chance to confront his fears properly. Subsequently, his hate for his cowardly self grows even bigger each time it happens and so does his belief that he just can’t do it. And that’s what really gets to me. The sleep-fighting is not just a running gag. It’s a snowball effect. The series uses what seems like a gimmick that is so worn down in anime to the point of becoming a troupe and turns it into a young boy’s ongoing uphill battle against his own mind and hate for himself.

That’s why it’s so important that by the end of the series, Zenitsu learns how to fight without sleeping at all.

Yup, that’s right. His character seems to be heading the exact opposite direction of where I thought he’d go because of how counter-intuitive it is. For the sake of his own growth, he has to overcome and be rid of the zany gag that was what initially drew watchers to him in the first place. Eccentric traits such as this are usually a safety net for stories that aren’t confident enough in their plot or characters. It’s how authors get more sales. But Zenitsu isn’t written out to be a butt monkey badass for views. He’s written as a real person. He’s failed. He’s succeeded. Some people believe in him while most don’t, but what really matters is that he starts believing in himself.

Zenitsu as a character really speaks to me in that sense. He can only do one thing. After all these years of training, he can only perform one single attack. It’s discouraging to work so hard and only be able to achieve one goal while others can reach triple the amount with half the effort and time. It’s easy to start running away and thinking you can’t do anything right because of that.

Despite the poetry that shounen anime like to wax, that’s the reality for most of us when our lives are on the line. We complain and laugh about how annoying Zenitsu is when he imitates a whiny baby that screams in fear at everything, but the fact of the matter is that the way he acts is the most realistic given his upbringing of people looking down on him, his past filled with failures, and the effect that his continued sleep-fighting is having on his well-being. Why should he die in this war if it’s inevitable that he can’t win and there are other people much better for the job? It’s a chillingly accurate impact that living in a world where it’s so easy to die at the hands of a demon can have on someone.

However, because Zenitsu never gave up, he managed to hone that skill with the intent of at least becoming the best at that one thing. Thunder Breathing First Form is meant to be a straight one-strike attack. If driving school has taught me anything, it’s that the faster you’re going, the more the most minuscule of mistakes can spiral into gigantic deviations in movement. Yet he’s taught himself how to use Thunderclap and Flash six times in a row (hence six fold) and in six different directions / distance of his choosing in such quick succession that it looks like he's using it continuously. We even saw how his fifth step landed him perfectly on a thread so he could bounce off of it for the finishing blow.

Just imagine how much dedication and training it takes to have that kind of control. He grew up with nothing. He’s trained so hard just to be able to do one thing. Now he’s going to make his “dream” of being powerful enough to help people into a “reality” on only that and that alone. His eventual development away from relying on sleep-fighting is a representation of it. And that’s when he officially started ascending into becoming my favourite character.

[dessiekarma]

My Harem is Entirely Bad Boy Types (Kirisaki Daiichi x Reader) Pt. 12

Chapter 12: This Will NOT End Like Every Other Harem Anime; We Want an Answer!

 (Y/N) smiled at the younger male who continuously made quite the show of staring at her. It would come as no surprise where he got the habit from, as the man sitting on the opposite couch didn’t do a much subtler job at gawking.

 “You’re not as hot as big bro made you seem.” The kid drolled out bluntly before flopping onto the couch and pulling out a Nintendo switch.

 “You rude little shit!” Hara exclaimed making his way into the room with a bottle of water. Just as quickly as the water was shoved into (Y/N)’s hand was the Switch pulled from the kid and held several feet over his head.

 “Triggered much!? Gimme my stuff! Oww!” The kid stopped taunting as an older woman delivered a smack onto his head.

 “Cut it out! Be nice to our lovely guest and don’t ruin this for your brother.” The woman hissed at her youngest son before smiling brightly at (Y/N). “Sorry my baby lacks some social graces much like I’m sure you’ve noticed with Kazuya.”

 “Mooooother please.” The lavender haired male groaned before dropping the switch onto his little brother’s face and sitting next to (Y/N).

 “I’m just teasing, sweetheart, she knows that. Do you need anything? Water, snacks, dinner?” The woman said being just a bit too generous and eager-sounding.

 “No, that’s okay Kazu-chan just brought me a bottle.”

 “Kazu-chan?” The woman smiled even wider, if that was possible and delivered little excited smacks onto her husband’s arm.

 “Darling, I think you might be scaring the poor girl.”

 “Says you, old man. You’ve been staring at her since she walked in the door.” Hara rolled his eyes, pulling the water bottle away from (Y/N)’s lips and taking a drink.

 “Ahh my son is right! I apologize, my wife may be a little excited to meet a girlfriend of Kazuya’s. We are just not used to him bringing girls home.”

 “Yea at least not ones that still have their clothes on.” His brother muttered quietly, sticking his tongue out at his brother death-glaring him.

 “Dad, ma, I already told you she’s not my girlfriend just my team manager.”

 “Sure bro, that why you never shut up about her?”

 “Ight imma beat his ass.” Hara stood up quickly and the preteen curled in on himself. Attempting to diffuse the situation (Y/N) took quick notice of the t-shirt the kid was wearing.

 “Hey cool shirt! Ochako is best girl, am I right?!”

 The kid instantly unraveled himself and sat straight up.

 “You like bnha?”

 “Hell yeah, it’s so cool! Lemillion is everything.”

 “Oh my god, did you see the new episode!?”

 “Surprisingly, I haven’t started the latest season yet.”

 “WHAT!? Well you have to watch it like right now!”

 “Are you offering?”

 “You’ll watch anime with me?” The kid now had a clear sparkle in his eyes as he jumped off the couch and pulled the girl up by the arm.

 Hara rolled his eyes as his weeb brother ran off with his equally weeb friend. Turning to his parents he could see the questioning in their eyes. Clearly wanting to know why he was bringing home a pretty beaten up girl at nine pm to meet them.

 “Look, you know how I mentioned having a female friend who was getting picked on? Well it’s gotten worse…much worse. She doesn’t feel okay going home right now and I didn’t want her to be alone. I offered for her to stay here.”

 Both his mom and dad looked at him blankly. The silence in the room was heavy.

 “I mean, please? Or is it okay if I stayed at a hotel with her?”

 The older woman suddenly shook her head, looking shocked. She turned to her equally flabbergasted husband.

 “Wait, honey, are you ASKING us?”

 “Well yeah. So, can she stay here for a bit?”

 “Of course she can.” His father responded still sounding a bit astonished.

 “Thanks. I’m gonna take a shower.”

 The two parents watched as their son made his way out of the room.

 “I can’t believe Kazuya actually asked our permission for something.”

 “Do you think it’s because of the girl? I think I like her already!”

 “What if he screws it up?”

 “Well…we still have two other single sons!”

~~~~~

 “Hey my mom sent me in here to clear out a pest problem.” Hara said nonchalantly bursting into the guest bedroom.

 (Y/N) jumped like a cat, startled by her friend’s abrupt entry.

 “I could have been changing or something!”

 “And? Come on, my eyesight is shit anyway.”

 “Not the point! Besides what pest problem?”

 Hara leaned against the wall and pulled open the nightstand to reveal a baby monitor. Talking into it he grew a shit eating grin.

 “What exactly were you hoping to hear through this you little perv!?”

 “Why don’t you mind your business you jerk!” A voice crackled through the monitor.

 (Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle just a bit as Hara flung the device out the window.

 “You watched anime with that loser. That’s like third base in that kid’s eyes and you’re basically his girlfriend now.”

 “I’m flattered but I don’t think I can travel to America from prison.”

 The young girl tried to ignore the loud sigh that came from her friend. She knew that Hara was probably the one who disagreed the loudest with her decision to leave Japan. Flopping back onto the king size bed, (Y/N) wasn’t fazed when she felt Hara flop down beside her.

 A comfortable silence washed over the two. It went on for so long that (Y/N) was almost sure that she was seconds away from falling asleep. That’s why when Hara finally spoke, she easily chucked it up as her dreaming or hearing things.

 “(Y/N)?”

 “Hmm?”

 “If I told you I loved you…would you stay?”

 “If you told me you loved me would you even mean it?”

 “When have I ever shown myself to be someone who doesn’t say what they mean?”

 (Y/N) finally opened her eyes and turned her head. Instantly she was swept into the whirl-wind of Hara’s fantasy eyes. There was no playfulness in his face nor hidden joke. She waited for a punchline that never came.

 “Love is a strong word. Not even any of the other guys used that word.”

 “Because none of the other guys have enough experience to identify. And even those who do are too stubborn to admit it.”

 “And you’re not stubborn?”

 “I am. But right now all my stubbornness is focused on convincing you not to leave. Please? I’d take care of you. I wouldn’t let Mei, or your mother or grandfather so much as look at you if you didn’t want them to.”

 “But you know my plans.”

 “And you can accomplish them here. I would help and I’m sure my parents would literally bend over backwards to give you anything they could. Don’t you worry about leaving us? Worry that you’d miss us? Miss me?”

 “Of course. But it wouldn’t be forever…I just don’t know for how long it would be. But wow ‘love’ really?”

 “Yeah seriously. I’ve had more flings than I can count and a good number of girlfriends to boot. I know what infatuation feels like. I know what sexual desire feels like. Attraction, crushes, curiosity. I’ve felt all that before, but I never felt this one. I’d say the only thing left is love. Of course not that it means anything with you leaving.”

 “It doesn’t mean nothing.”

 “Don’t give me that shit. Do I seem like the type of guy to promise to wait for you however long it takes?”

 “Do I seem like the type of girl who would expect you to?”

 The silence came again this time feeling only a bit awkward.

 “I mean of course I’d fuck other girls while you were away. But uhh in terms of love…. A shitty guy like me? I wouldn’t have such great karma, to meet another girl. So I suppose no matter when you’d come back…”

 His voice trailed off and (Y/N) smiled at the thought of what he was trying to say. Feeling more comfortable than she had in days, the girl let her eyes close heavily and drifted to sleep.

~~~~~

 “She doesn’t wanna fucking see you and you have about one second to get the hell out of this gym before I turn you inside out.”

 Hara and (Y/N) looked at each other, hearing Yamazaki’s voice boom from outside the gym. She knew deep down what to expect and had come to terms that she would have to face everything head on before leaving.

 Filling her lungs with air, (Y/N) pushed open the door and was met with not just Ryo, but the entire Touou basketball team.

 Her ex looked like shit and maybe she was wrong for saying that she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for him right now. Before she could even open her mouth to get a word out, Momoi was speaking up.

 “Please (Y/N), you really need to give Ryo a chance and listen to what he has to say!”

 “Huh you know I am really just tired of people telling me what I ‘have’ to do. But let’s say I’m willing to talk to ANY of you, what is there to say? Or actually should I get Mei in here, so you don’t have to rehash anything to her?” (Y/N) sarcastically retorted.

 “That’s not how it even happened! If you would let him explain you would understand that he wasn’t trying to tell that girl, he was talking to us and she overheard.” Wakamatsu called out loudly and almost accusingly, causing (Y/N) to scoff.

 “And if you would remove your head from that far up your ass you would understand how that only makes it worse. I’d give less of a shit how someone talks about me to my enemies then how they talk about me to my friends.” The young woman finally turned to eye up her ex. “What did I ever do to you for you to go and tell them the most personal thing that was between us?”

 “I was angry and…you moved on so fas-”

 “Fast? You think that was fast? You think months of me feeling like shit, of wondering where I went wrong, of thinking maybe I made the mistake…isn’t enough? How long was I supposed to hate my life for you to feel better about yourself?”

 “You know that’s not what I meant. You chose strangers over me, how was I supposed to feel about that?”

 “NO! I was never going to choose. YOU made me choose. I wanted to be a part of a team again but I wanted you too. You didn’t let me have both. Don’t resent me when you turned yourself into an option.”

 “I was worried about you! All of us were, don’t you get that? You had a tough enough time at Too and knowing your personal situation, we didn’t know how things were going to go for you at some rich kid school. The you go and befriend literally the only people we warned you about…It’s like you do it on purpose!

 “Do what on purpose?”

 “Cause problems for yourself! Then I hear you were attacked last night when even Aomine has told you to stay away from Haizaki and instead of just being quiet you have to always instigate. It’s like every bad thing that happens to you is becau-”

 “You need to stop talking.” A gruff voice came from behind the smaller male.

 (Y/N) was shaking with anger and tears at this point but forced her glare away from Ryo to look at Aomine.

 “You came because you wanted to apologize but all that’s come out of your mouth is bullshit.”

 “Sakurai, regardless of what you think I didn’t choose a lot of this. I didn’t ask to be born into a manipulative and abusive family, I didn’t ask to be born at all. I didn’t ask for Haizaki to attack me or any of the guys that have in the past. And I definitely didn’t ask for you to come here an insult me and my team. When you’re ready to actually apologize I’ll be willing to listen. Until then get out of my face.”

 Sakurai looked like he wanted to burst into tears, but he blinked his eyes harshly. Nodding gently he took a deep breath.

 “I still love you, you know. And I don’t know why I can say it all the time but had a hard time right now…I really am sorry more than you probably believe. I was so busy on trying to get the chance to talk to you at all that I didn’t think about what I was going to say. I’ll get it right next time, I promise.”

 “Now that you got your chance to give your sob story, you can go.” Hanamiya waved off the entire team before turning around and walking into the locker room.

 With nothing left to say each team turned and walked off, one side out of the gym and the other following their captain. Only two remained under the net.

 “Thanks for calling Sakurai out on his shit.” (Y/N) smiled softly at Aomine who didn’t have a readable expression.

 “It was annoying me plus I didn’t even want to be here.”

 “How did they manage to convince you?”

 “Told me it was a scrimmage. I’d be willing to play anyone who managed to piss off Tetsuya.”

 “Sorry to disappoint.”

 “I have a question though.”

 “Shoot.”

 “You’ve fucked all of them right?”

 “Aomine! How could you ask me that!?  I thought you were on my side!”

 “Calm down. I didn’t know there was a side to pick here. But you were the one who always hassled me with anime facts I didn’t want. And if anything stuck in my head it was big tiddy 2d girls and ”

 “Harem.” Both said at the same time.

 “We both said we weren’t pulling any weak bullshit if we ever found ourselves in the center of a harem. We were gonna use harem privileges to get laid. So, come on tell me some numbers. No details! I just want a body count. All five?”

 (Y/N) face grew red as she remembered all the times, she sat on the sidelines watching her boyfriend play basketball and rambled off to his less than participating teammate. To be fair she always assumed Aomine was asleep unless they started talking ecchi.

 “NO!”

 “No you won’t tell me or not all of them? At least 3?”

 “Look if it was any more than one, these guys would have ‘School Days’-ed my ass by now.”

 “I have no idea what the anime reference is but I can get the subtext that you did cash in your protagonist card once.” Aomine had a smirk on his face as he continued to tease his old teammate.

 The girl felt her face burn red but nodded her head in agreement.

 “Do they know you still love Ryo?” (Y/N)’s head shot up which made Aomine let out a cross between a scoff and a chuckle. “Even if you do love one of these assholes, even if its not the one you totally banged…you love Ryo too. Word of advice: don’t give up anyone you can’t imagine NOT being in your life 3 years down the road. Cutting ties with someone sometimes doesn’t have regret that hits you until you see them tied to someone else.”

 “Sounds like that’s coming from experience.”

 “Does it? Well even more of a reason to hear me out. I would say I’d see you around but something tells me I won’t…that right?”

 (Y/N) nodded at her surprisingly perceptive friend.

 “Good luck then.”

 “So, is it really true then?” A soft voice rang from behind the girl as the tan male closed the door to the gym. (Y/N) didn’t have to turn to know it was Yamazaki.

 “That I still love Ryo? Well-”

 “No, not that. We all know you do, I don’t think you’ve ever gone a week without talking about him. That’s the reason none of us have actually kicked his ass, y’know? I meant is it true that you love someone from this team?”

 (Y/N) turned around and for the first time in a while she made complete eye contact with the ginger haired male.

 “Yeah…at least I thought I did.”

 “You thought?”

 “Seems pretty horrible to love anyone if I’m not completely over my ex, doesn't it?”

 …

 “That wasn’t a jab at you, Zaki.”

 “No, that okay. There’s nothing you could say to me that I don’t deserve at this point. Not that I’m trying to throw myself a pity party or make you feel guilty for me feeling guilty or…ugh why is it so hard to talk to you!?”

 “You think I’m hard to talk to?”

 “I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything! I just mea-”

 (Y/N) took a step closer to her friend and attempted to shift a piece of hair behind her ears only for Yamazaki to take a microstep back. Her eyes scrutinized him more before tucking the hair away.

 “Mei hasn’t been kind to you ever, has she?”

 “Why did you bring her up?”

 “You flinched away from me right now.”

 “No I didn’t!” His voice practically boomed before he seemed to realize the volume.

 “I know we’ve always just talked about her as your bitch ex and joked about how crazy she was. We only took her seriously when she came after me…but she’s been awful to you for a long time, right? Emotionally, verbally…physically?”

 Yamazaki’s eyes went almost as dead as Furuhashi’s. He didn’t like what she was implying, that he was some kind of victim. He especially didn’t like hearing that shit from her. She was the one who was abused, in every way a person can be.

  So what if his girlfriend said things that hurt his feelings sometimes?

 Was someone supposed to feel sorry for him because she screamed at him for little things in public, in front of his friends?

  What right did he have to get sympathy for his 5 foot nothing girlfriend slapping him now and again?

 His thoughts were cut off when he simultaneously felt a tear run from one of his eyes and felt (Y/N) wrap her arms around his waist to embrace him.

 “I’m so sorry that we, your friends, didn’t notice. And even when we did…all we did was joke about your crazy ex instead of helping you. We heard her yell and threaten you…abuse you. We would hear all her manipulation and the guys heard more than I ever did. I’m sorry we didn’t stop her from hurting you too.”

 “Don’t apologize to me! I don’t deserve it! Abuse or not, it doesn’t excuse any of the choices I made!”

 “No, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean you retroactively deserve any of what she put you through. You apologized to me and I can’t forget what happened, but I forgive you.”

 “I never meant to hurt you! I was just jealous because I barely had a chance to start with and then to think that you had all this experience and I only had Mei. I didn’t know how anyone besides her could ever see anything in me and it seemed like everything was working against me. And I know I don’t act like it but…I love you (Y/N)!”

 A loud throat clearing drew the attention of both teens. The rest of the team had emerged from the lockeroom, all clearly having heard the confession. (Y/N) turned and smiled at the guys widely.

 “Ready to play?”

 “No.” Seto said firmly. “We can’t put it off anymore. I think it goes without saying that everyone in this room is aware of their feelings for you. I don’t think any of us will fight each other over you.”

 “Shit I’ll take any of you right here right now.” Hara scoffed.

 “BUT…I do think we deserve an answer.”

 (Y/N) looked between all the faces of her team before taking in a deep breath.

~~~~~

 A knock at the door had the girl jumping from her skin. Shoving her suitcase under her bed, (Y/N) quickly walked to the entrance of her guest house and opened the door slowly.

 She was expecting her mother or grandfather. Hell, she was even expecting one of the guys.

 Ryo, instead, stood in her doorway trembling slightly. As quickly as she opened the door, the boy gave a deep bow.

 “I’m so sorry! For everything…I have a lot I want to say. That is…if you’ll give me the chance to say it.”

 (Y/N) looked between her ex and her room where the packing still needed to be done. Opening the door widely, she waved him inside.

(Author’s Note: Talking about Yamazaki being abused is NOT supposed to be a plot element I pulled out my ass to get him back in everyone’s good graces. I have always written Mei with the intent that she be read as an abusive girlfriend because she IS.

Take care of your male friends too, never assume they are okay just because they are bigger or louder or stronger. His backstory is NOT his redemption, his actions for this chapter and the last are him working his way there. His backstory just gives us some insight on his character and why he does some of the things he does.)

[the-hidden-writer]

An Odd Family Tree

A series of snippets from the lives of the FitzSimmons family, set post 7x13. Also, the series of events that leads up to the birth of their grandson.

Available to read on AO3 and FF.net.

Comments make my day!

Chapter 17: Apology

Phil Coulson felt like he had seen it all. Norse gods? Ghost fire demons? Evil alien robots? Been there, been killed by that. Time travel was overrated. Seeing space got old. But there was one extremely little-known fact about Phil Coulson that he liked to keep private.

His weakness was young children.

Utterly awed by the little face staring up at him curiously, it was surreal for him to comprehend that the baby in his arms, in some other timeline somewhere, would grow up to be a member of the team he’d been part of so long ago.

His eyes flickered up to the many presents and cards littering the room. With the child in one arm (he’d forgotten what it was like to not be super strong, but even then the baby felt like he was a lot lighter than he should be), he stood up to examine them.

A few of the cards immediately caught his attention. He wasn’t sure if it was his super eyesight or if robots could even have instincts, but he was drawn to them all the same.

He opened the first one. It was homemade and had a picture of a fruit basket on the front. All of the fruit inside it were lemons.

Dear Alya & Owen, FitzSimmons, and Bobbi & Hunter,

CONGRATS!!! I’m so happy for you! I’m sure that little Deke is going to be a handful, but you guys can do anything you set your mind to. Alya and Owen, I know you’ll be amazing parents. FitzSimmons are obviously going to be the best grandparents. Bobbi and Hunter, please try to not blow up your grandson.

P.S. Daniel made the card but the lemons were my idea. I hope you like it :)

Underneath was a paragraph written in noticeably more refined handwriting.

Congratulations on a beautiful baby boy. I wish you all the best going forward as new parents and grandparents. Daisy has not left much room to write here but I know you will do a great job.

Sending you lots of love, Daisy and Daniel <3

Taking a closer look at the front, Coulson noticed that it wasn’t just a picture but an extremely detailed painting. It somehow didn’t surprise him that Daniel Sousa was an expert artist too.

That fanboy side of him really did never disappear.

He moved his attention to the next card that stood out to him. It had a photo of a grinning baby monkey on the front.

Dear Alya, Owen & family

Congrats on having a boy! We are so proud of you both. We hear boys can be tough, and we both have a feeling that this one might be tougher than normal.

I think Deke is a great name. I hope he enjoys his gift when he’s old enough to play with it. Love and miss you all. - Elena.

To Fitz and Jemma- we all knew this day would come eventually. I bought this card years ago, waiting to send it to you. I’m honestly getting emotional writing this. Make sure you tell Deke that his Uncle Mack loves him. You both deserve this. To Bobbi and Hunter- I’m finding it really hard to imagine you guys as grandparents. Deke is one special boy, so I’m setting you the challenge of giving him the world. ~ Mack

From Elena and Mack

Coulson smiled at the little light-up yo-yo sitting next to the card. There were various other cards sent by SHIELD agents that FitzSimmons had met over the years, but his heart twinged at the painfully obvious lack of one.

He missed May.

He sat back down on the bed. “You’ve already got a hoard of fans, don’t you?” He said, offering his finger for the baby to curl his own fingers around.

Deke gargled in response.

Coulson stifled a small laugh and instead took to looking deep into the green eyes of the innocent, unknowing child.

“You took your time, didn’t you?” He asked the baby. He paused before replying to thin air. “No, no you’re right. Fashionably late. Typical you.”

He took a deep breath, knowing he was about to do something that he had already prepared for decades. He had no need for the oxygen, but it helped him to give the moment a sense of finality.

“Listen,” he began to confide in the oblivious baby, “there’s something I never got the chance to tell you. When I first met you, when all of us first met you, none of us trusted you. But in our defense, you were a very untrustworthy person back then. I guess we learned later on that it was our mistake. We should’ve known, from the moment you first offered to go and help Enoch get us home, that you were different. Even after we found out you were FitzSimmons’s grandson, we didn’t change the way we treated you.” He had to stop to bite his lip as baby Deke tapped his arm with his tiny fist, almost comfortingly.

“I feel stupid about that now. I bet you think that’s stupid too. I wonder if we had this conversation in your timeline.” He laughed dryly. “I hope not, that just makes me feel even worse.”

“What I’m trying to say, is I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. We all regret it, even May. She asked me to tell you that if you were ever born. She turned out to be a surprisingly emotional person. Thinking back, I’m starting to think that you were the most emotional person on the team back then. Fancy that, huh? And still… you sacrificed everything for us. We wouldn’t have made it back without you, and I wouldn’t be able to talk to you now without you. You had such a crappy upbringing, pardon my language, and we just took you from your home. By some miracle you almost made a million in like, a year, and I’m not going to pretend to know how on Earth you did that, especially since that was like your first or second ever time on Earth. Seriously dude, everything about you is a miracle.”

“I still don’t understand how you did it. How you were immediately ready to get left behind to let us go home. In a completely screwed up timeline. I mean, it’s probably since it was never your home either. Anyways, I should probably stop putting this off, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m sorry, Deke. We’re sorry. And we can’t thank you enough for what you did. We all led happy lives in our perfect timeline and that’s all on you, buddy. So… thanks.”

Deke hiccuped and began to cry.

FitzSimmons came rushing in immediately, and it pulled at Coulson’s heartstrings to see that they had visibly been crying.

Jemma took Deke from his hands and began to shush him.

Fitz stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, not meeting Coulson’s gaze. “Are you done?”

“I’m done.” Coulson replied and watched both Fitz and Jemma’s shoulders sag.

“We’re planning to go for a picnic tomorrow,” Jemma suggested desperately, “we’d love it if you came with us! What do you say?”

He knew what they were trying to do, but Phil wasn’t about to change his mind. He’d waited for so many years to get closure on this one final thing, on one final person, and he’d done everything he possibly could in the meantime. He was ready, and he didn’t want to lose any more of his friends in his abnormally long lifespan.

“I think I’m gonna pass.” He said gently. “But you guys have a great time.”

Jemma sniffed, and Coulson didn’t waste a second to move in to hug her, pulling Fitz closer as he did so. He remembered when the two were both just awkward, genius science students. They’d all come so far since then.

“I’ll miss you.” Jemma sobbed into his shoulder.

Fitz’s voice cracked as he added: “We both will.”

Coulson let them embrace him for a few seconds longer, but soon Deke began to wail again. He took that as his cue to leave.

He was glad that FitzSimmons got their happy ending.

He was relieved that they got their grandson back.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Dawn in Your Eyes Part 17

Summary: Alfie has little to no idea why Caroline ever gave him the time of day. The blind woman seemed far too sensible to even speak to him. But soon he finds himself falling helplessly in love.

Part 17: Alfie and Caroline discuss names. Alfie finds out what a pain in the ass it is to be partially blind. 

            Pilot was extremely relieved when Caroline was returned to him. He refused to leave her side for more than a minute a few days after they were reunited. Of course, that really meant just going back and forth from Elizabeth’s home to the hospital.

            Julia and Alfie didn’t want her living on her own for obvious reasons after the kidnapping. It was an adjustment period, and Caroline wasn’t sure how long it would last. Would things return to normal once Alfie was cleared to leave the hospital?

            Maybe things would never go back to the way they were. Not after such an event. And not since they were due to have a baby in less than six months.

            Since most of her days were sat in the hospital or at Elizabeth and Richard’s, Caroline had plenty of time to process what had happened and what was coming next.

            Alfie assured her that the men who had taken her would be dealt with accordingly. That’s all he had to say on the matter. He wasn’t going to tell his wife that two men were dead and the other two were tied up in the cellar of the bakery. Waiting until Alfie was back on his feet so he could kill them properly. A long, torturous, painful death seemed suitable.

            Some of his men had already roughed them up a bit to learn their motives. It was reported to Alfie that they were Italians although not officially linked to Sabini. Just a group of rabid young men who wanted the wealth and power that Darby had. Hoping to impress him, instead, they made a critical error. Even Sabini was wise enough to know that kidnapping Alfie Solomons’ blind wife was a huge mistake.

            Alfie understood that but wanted to make an example out of the rogue men. To let anyone, not just the Italians, that his family was not to be messed with.

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

            “Elizabeth had Misty write some names down for me.” Caroline arrived one day with a piece of paper in her hand. She found her usual seat beside Alfie’s hospital bed and sat.

            “Names for what?” Alfie reached for his glasses. It seemed that the blindness in his left eye would be long-lasting, if not permanent. But he was coping. Some of the doctors or nurses would sympathize, expecting the man to be devastated with such a drastic change. Alfie would simply bark out a laugh and tell them that his wife had been born blind. Losing sight in one eye wasn’t the end of the world.

            He’d made a similar joke when he first got to see what the bullet had done to his face. He snorted and grimaced. “Well, at least me wife is blind so she won’t leave me for looking like this.”

            The nurse holding the mirror just gave an uncomfortable smile and checked his dose of pain medication to make sure he hadn’t been given more than was necessary.

             “Baby names.” Caroline set her purse down and instructed Pilot to lay down by her feet.

            “That right? Let’s have a look-see then.” He blinked a few times to clear up his vision. Losing half of his sight was still something he needed to get used to. Emotionally, he was just lucky the bullet hadn’t gone straight through his brain. It was easy for him to stand up, dust himself off, and resume life. But the physical limitations were a weight on him. Reading gave him a major headache, his depth perception was utterly fucked, and his right eye was still trying to adjust. But he tried not to confide these hardships to Caroline. It felt so silly complaining to her about being half-blind when she’d never seen the world. He felt it was like whining about losing a finger to someone who’d been born without arms.

            So he tried to convey that everything was just peachy.   

            “Zelda, yeah that’s our great-aunt’s name. James, mhm, Sarah, sure sure, Rose, Helen, Eva, Pearl, Georgia, hang on. She’s only listed one boys name, is this her way of telling us she wants it to be a girl?” He protested.

            Caroline giggled. “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.” She didn’t tell him that, yes, his cousin had been hoping for a girl.

            Alfie grunted. “Ah, now here is a proper Jewish name for a boy. Eli. Proper good name. Not like all these fucking modern names she’s written down.”

            “Did you want something more traditional?” She wondered.

            “Thing is, think me mum gave me a more Western name to fit in, yeah? That way, people wouldn’t be looking down on us even more. ‘Fucking Jews and their wild names, eh? We’re English, ain’t we?’. But I ain’t naming our child outta fear. Ifya like a British name, then that’s fine. But don’t want you to name our child outta fear. Not like our parents did. People are gonna call me kid what they were named whether they like it or not. They have an issue; they can come to me and I’ll give them a well-crafted history of the chosen people. None of this…this bullshit.”

            Caroline nodded slowly. She hadn’t considered his point of view before but did understand it. Knowing Alfie felt so strongly about it, she wanted to grant his wish. Besides, she wanted her child to have a meaningful name, not something that was following a trend. “So more traditional. I think we could find a beautifully Jewish name.” She murmured softly and plucked the paper from his hand. “Zelda is Yiddish. Eli is Hebrew. What else?”

            “I’d hafta think about it,” Alfie admitted. He was starting to get a headache from reading the names his cousin had picked.

            She took his hand in hers. “How are you feeling?”

            “Fine, should be about ready to get back home. Fucking sick of this hospital.” He mumbled and squeezed her hand.

            “I know. I want you home so badly.” She sighed. “I love Elizabeth and Richard but I miss being together, just us two.”  

            “You can admit it, Liz can be overbearing.” Alfie chuckled.

            “She is not! She’s wonderful and caring. But I miss being with you in our own home. I want to go back to Letwin or Margate.”

            “I do too.” He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. “We are due to have a very well-deserved vacation.”

            “We can leave straight from here.” Caroline got swept up in the daydream of being whisked away to either of their homes outside of London. Spending quality time with the husband she thought she was going to lose.

            “Well, I’ve got a few things to wrap up here before we do.” He frowned.

            “Like what?”

            “Like loose ends that need dealing with.”

            A cold chill went down Caroline’s spine as she picked up on anger in his voice. “Alfie…whatever you’re planning I’d urge you to stop.”

            “Not planning anything, love.”

            “I know you’re planning.” She argued. “And you ought to tell me the truth.”

            Alfie sighed and rested his head back against the pillows propping him up. He made sure not to touch his face even though he wanted to rub his weary eyes. “There are two men that are still alive. Part of the group that took you.” He told her. “They’ll be my example to those fucking-” He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Caroline, I won’t rest until they pay and the message is well received.”

            She chewed on her lower lip. Part of her wanted the men punished. After all, they had no right to do what they did. However, she knew her husband’s form of punishment was very different from the legal system. And she just wanted the ordeal to be done with. Caroline thought because she was home safe, things were done.

            But of course, they weren’t. And she wasn’t sure if they’d ever be fully settled. Besides, this wasn’t an isolated matter. It was just a symptom of years of Darby and Alfie bickering and fighting back and forth.

            “Alfie, will you look at me?” She reached up to find his cheek.

            “I’m looking at you, love.” He replied quietly.

            “What will it take to get you to give this up?” She asked, her gray eyes pleading. “We’re expecting a child. I don’t want this to continue to interrupt our lives. You were almost killed…”

            “I know, Caroline, I know.” He swallowed and tried to listen with an open mind. Settling arguments with Darby was never easy, often times Alfie just didn’t want to stop fighting. He felt like the man deserved what was coming to him.

            “I can’t have this in my life, and I know you can’t for much longer. You need to settle things. I won’t ask you to change completely but I need to know that my family will be safe. Our family.”

            “I’ll work on it.” He promised, the words coming from his heart. She was right, he didn’t want their child to see the horrors he had to. That was the point of bringing up a child, wasn’t it? To love them and to give them a better life? “Things’ll change. They will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~           

            Alfie returned home much to his and Caroline’s relief. The hospital was becoming very depressing and made Alfie stir crazy.

            Cyril and Apollo went mad when he entered the flat. They nearly knocked him over as they jumped on him excitedly.

            “Alright, alright!” He exclaimed. “Don’t push me now.” He prodded them off and patted them both. “I missed ya mutts too.”

            Caroline laughed softly as Cyril whined. “They’ve been so lost without you. Kept following me around.”

            “Well, at least you had good company.” Alfie chuckled. “Want some tea, love? I need something to settle me head.”

            “Sure.” She let Pilot off his lead. “I’ll be in the sitting room.”

            “Right, just be a mo’.” Alfie went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He had to blink a few times to try and right his vision. He didn’t think his life would be too changed by the lack of eyesight. He could get around, right?

            However, he was given a nasty wakeup call when he tried pouring the hot water into cups. He was certain he had the spout over the cup, that’s what it looked like. But it turned out his depth perception was worse than he anticipated. Boiling hot water spilled out over the kitchen counter and burned his hand.

            “Fuck!” He hissed and haphazardly set the kettle back on the stovetop but missed by a couple of inches. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He went for the sink to put cold water on his hand. Reaching for the tap, he overshot and knocked a bar of soap into the sink. “Fuck!” He growled and tried again, this time grabbing air. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Third time he managed to get a hold of the faucet and turned on the water. It took a few tries to get his hand under the stream of cold water. The string of events boggled his mind. How could he be so deceived by his own sight?

            “Fuck.” He uttered one more time as the water soothed his burn.

            “Alfie?” Caroline called from the next room when she heard banging around. “Are you alright?”

            “Fine, love!” He replied.

            Unconvinced, Caroline walked into the kitchen. “Are you sure?”

            “Just burned me hand a bit.”

            “Did something spill?” She frowned as her stocking-covered foot stepped in a puddle on the tiles.

            “Yeah, just water. Tried pouring but-fuck-I dunno, guess I don’t see quite right with just one working eye.”

            “You’ll have to adjust, that’s all.” She soothed softly and grabbed a hand towel. She found the kettle and the teacups. “Watch.”

            Alfie turned off the tap and walked over. He watched carefully as she tapped the spout of the kettle to the bottom of the teacup before pouring. She kept the tip of her finger a half-inch from the rim. When the water touched her finger, she stopped.

            “It’s all about learning how to live in a world that wasn’t made for you.” She poured the second cup. “You’re clever, you’ll manage. But you need to be patient with yourself.” She set the kettle down and reached a hand to him.

            “Don’t have your sorta patience.” He mumbled sheepishly and took her hand.

            She pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “You’ll find it.” She promised. “But it won’t be easy. Still, I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

            “I fucking love you.” He murmured and kissed her properly.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​

Tag list: @zazasblogxx​ @thinkingsofamadwoman​ @deaflikehawkeye​ @bellarkebxtch​ @evelynshelby​

Masterlist 

[dahvangogh]

and empty words are evil | Jason Todd

[ prologue | one | two | three ]

[ao3 link]

note: Another week, another new chapter. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten any comments yet (except one in tumblr) but I did get a few kudos and hits which made me incredibly happy. I hope I got the new characters' introduced in this chapter well... like I'm a bit scared that they sound OOC or not credible enough. What do you think? Leave a comment on AO3 or here, please!

Also, I apologize for any grammatical mistakes, I tried my best to correct it all but I might have missed some things (english is not my native language)

Take care, guys. xx

CHAPTER TWO

“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.”

― Allen Saunders

The art gallery this morning was emptier than a banker’s heart, which suits her best if she is being honest, with her current predicament and all. While she doesn't work at the art gallery per se, like showing the displayed artworks or buying imported ones, she does work at the back of the gallery in one of the many workshops. Hence, if the place is full or has a chatty crowd, the sound will still get to her and echo all over her workshop.

Thankfully, that isn't the case today.

Grace is sporting a hangover as big as the Empire State Building. Yesterday night, while checking pictures and maps of Black Mask’s warehouse surroundings, she had chugged down two expensive wine bottles as if they were water.

You reap what you sow, dumbass.

She didn’t even like wine, like at all.

Her boss Rose had gifted her the two bottles for her birthday very kindly and when yesterday night she had seen the bottles collect dust in her pantry, she had thought she either drunk them now or threw them to the nearest trash can.

A coughing, as if someone was throat cleaning, sounds from behind and startles her.

Grace stops her precise strokes with the cotton swab and throws it into a bowl with many others that have been used before. Then, as she turns around towards the workshop door, she lowers her face mask. Her boss, a beautiful mature woman sporting amazing pink hair up in a tight knot and matching it with multicolored eyeshadow, is standing at the threshold of the door, tapping away something on her phone.

“How is it going with the portrait?”

Her gaze is still on the phone.

“Great. Maximum two or three days outmost for me. Then Caesar can frame it again and we can return it to the owner.”

At that, her boss looks up at her and smiles as kindly as usual. Rose Whitehall was the type of boss many dreamed about having.

And Grace knew she was lucky to have her.

When she had come to Gotham City, the first day Grace had visited Gotham’s Art Palace and fallen completely in love. She had hunted down Rose Whiteman, resume in hand, and insisted for weeks to have her at least be an intern. Rose had taken her resume and scanned it from head to bottom, commenting on how lucky Grace had been to be doing her apprenticeship on Museum Island in Berlin. Then, she had agreed to take her as an intern for two months. If she was as good as it seemed from her resume, she would hire her.

And now here she is, working for Rose and getting paid every month doing what she loves most.

“The owner will be coming in fifteen minutes, Grace.” She says which instantly makes Grace gape at that, eyes wide in shock. Forget what I said, she is a fucking bitch… “Don’t worry! He just wants to see how the process of restoration is going.”

Thank God.

The raven-haired girl now raises one of her brows in question.

“It isn’t common, I know. But we needed to check some details for the Gotham Annual Gala Dinner he is hosting, the one where we will auction some artwork, and he asked if it was possible to see it.” Rose approaches her while explaining. Then, she stands beside her looking at the big white worktable where the painting is placed and being restored. “You see, this portrait is very important to him.”

Grace stares at the painted canvas too.

It is a huge family portrait, clearly of a wealthy family, and the members seem happy. The tall man has broad-shoulders, probably in his early thirties, and is wearing an expensive-looking suit with matching black tie. His combed dark hair contrasts quite a bit with his vibrant blue eyes. Besides the proud man stands a dashing woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with light brown hair up in a chignon and soft but plump pink lips. She is wearing a green strapless dress, those that you would only wear in formal events or at a Gala.

From the first moment Grace had seen the painting, the woman had taken her breath away, –despite how dirty and darkened the portrait is–. She still looked positively and extraordinarily beautiful. If Grace had ever seen her walking down the street, she would have immediately taken her small sketchpad out of her handbag and drawn her.

The painter clearly had done a remarkable job depicting them.

Though, as usual with any type of paints, the painting was forever condemned to be restored a few times and treated with preventive care until the owner decides to dispose of it.

Now, Grace follows with her eyesight the strong hand that the man has placed on a petite shoulder, and a smile immediately blooms on her face. It always happened these past days too. Whenever she looked at the third and last member of the painting she would inevitably smile.

A young boy.

He was probably six or seven years old when the portrait had been done. He looks like the spitting image of the older man, undoubtedly they were father and son, but has the same soft smile as the lovely woman.

“You have done a remarkable job, Grace.”

Her boss pats her on the shoulder, still looking at the couple depicted on the portrait.

“I never asked… do you know them? Personally, I mean… ”

Rose smiles sadly.

“My parents were friends with them, so I do remember meeting the family once or twice at dinner parties… sadly, the couple passed away due to very unfortunate circumstances.”

Grace now smiles saddened, trying not to imagine the sweet young boy crying in front of two stone gravels, utterly alone in the world.

A whistle-like sound, which Grace knows by now that it means a notification of Rose’s phone, echoes all over the workshop.

“And that must be him.”

Rose starts walking towards the door, the sound of her heels following her, but stops and then looks over her shoulder.

“Keep working on that! Now!”

And with a wink, she walks off towards the gallery section, disappearing from her sight.

“Aye, aye, captain!”

Grace pulls up her white face mask and rubs her gloved hands together, feeling a bit anxious about facing a client for the first time. She has never done so, an art restorer never meets her client unless she works at a museum –which means the museum is the owner, unless the piece was donated, that's another case altogether.

Though in this case... She did know that the restoration of this portrait was a special request to Rose, she said so, but now she understands why. The reason being that Rose knew the family sort of personally.

But she still never expected to meet the client.

She assesses that she mustn’t look that bad, thanking her morning-self for choosing an outfit that looks classy and professional on her.

Her hair is tied up with a ribbon in a high ponytail, very 60s with how her curls look, and her floral long skirt complements her white v-neck blouse. She had even gone as far as putting on some nude lipstick which looked great with her Bridget Bardot inspired eye look.

I hope my eye make up isn't ruined... Pandas don't look professional and efficient.

She sighs loudly.

Wait… Why in Hell am I worried about how I look? Pull yourself together!

She sighs again, which feels weird while wearing a face mask, and now picks up a new cotton swab, proceeding with socking it in a special liquid for cleaning. Before being interrupted, Grace was working on some details on the young boy’s suit and so now she goes back to working on that.

If everything goes according to her plan, she will finish today with the final touch-ups, and tomorrow she will varnish the whole thing.

Grace focuses on the section of the boy’s suit, who is placed at the bottom of the painting, and starts cleaning.

She has taken longer on this work because of how huge it was, plus she had two other more urgent works to do. Nevertheless, she feels confident that between today and tomorrow she can perfectly finish it.

Suddenly, the brunette sees a dark blurb move from the corner of her eye and so she stops her soft strokes to look beside her.

A child?

The young boy is attentively looking at her hand and analyzing its movements.

She raises an eyebrow in question.

The boy turns to look at her, his brows now furrowed and arms crossed, as if pissed that she has stopped doing her job.

They both stare at each other, no words spoken between them for a bit.

“You are surprisingly good for someone so young.” His child-like voice is a heavy contrast to how serious and formal his words are. “Though I assured father that I was more than capable of handling such an easy task.”

Grace blinks a few times, at first paying more attention to the pale scar at the tail of his right eyebrow that stands out against his tan skin, but then she registers what he has just said.

You little sh...

“Then your father was being smart, for such a delicate portrait deserves an experienced hand and....” She pulls her face mask down and smiles sweetly, all while looking down at him. “I highly doubt you would be up to that high standard.”

The boy, despite his sun-kissed skin, blushes notoriously. Yet, his brows are still furrowed, even more so now than before.

“I will have you know that… ”

He looks adorable, all angry while clenching his fists at his sides, and she can help but soften at the sight.

Grace quickly interrupts him.

“Though I’m sure that with proper study and practice, when you are older you might be able.”

He blinks a few times and then relaxes, though still sporting his adorable blush.

“Damian, don’t harass the lady while she is working.”

A deep and rich voice asks –probably to the boy, Damian is not her name– and both the kid and her turn their heads towards the threshold.

She holds a gasp.

Grace has just come across Bruce Wayne himself.

He is standing in the workshop threshold, all calm and poise. The man is surprisingly more handsome in real life than in the newspapers or tv. He is beautiful, yet I wouldn't paint him ever. Don't mistake her, he is handsome as hell. He looks extremely fit in his probably very expensive dark suit and as dashing as ever with his chiseled face, straight nose, and smiling soft lips. Yet something is amiss with him.

He doesn't look whole.

Too perfect.

“Father!”

She turns towards the young boy and sees it. The connection. They are identical, though Damian reaches her elbow, has a much darker complexion and his eyes are green instead of blue. Everything else is positively the same. As in the same well-kept haircut, long at the top and not too short at the sides –though the boy' is styled more child-friendly–, the same bone structure in the face and the same poise while standing.

Damian is a walking mini-Bruce.

The man walks towards them, still all calm and charm, and she can't help but search for any flaws. His blue eyes feel like they are analyzing her, which she quickly attributes to him being a worried father of finding alone his child with a total stranger, and so she tries to relax her and look non-threatening. After all, they were just talking.

“Bruce Wayne.” he introduces himself, offering his big hand. “Quite young for an art restorer, aren’t you?”

You just didn't...

She tries to smile and raises her hand, not shaking his but waving it.

“Grace Henderson, would shake your hand but I’m wearing protective gloves and they need to be as clean as possible,” she says nonchalantly, though she still wants to grunt out loud for his damn comment. “I’m 25 years old and was personally tasked to do this by Miss Whitehall, though I personally believe she knows what she is doing, you are more than free to go and request another restorer.”

She hears Damian laugh, but she holds Bruce's stare, not backing out.

He smiles charmingly, taking a step forward.

“I didn’t mean to… ”

Her smile enlarges.

“Yes, you did.” Grace waves her hand as if dismissing him. “I’m used to it, though. So no offense is taken.”

Liar... It stinks.

Bruce opens his mouth as if to reply with something, but then his eyes zoom on the portrait laying on the work table and he instantly closes it.

He stares at it, almost as if zooming out.

“Well... Now I can see why.” He smiles, not a charming one but a soft-looking one, his eyes shining a bit. “It looks just like the first time I saw it.”

Both Damian and her turn towards the portrait on the worktable.

She rubs her hands, a bit taken aback by the subtle compliment.

“It’s still not finished! I’m giving it the final touches now and tomorrow I will varnish it properly.”

She looks at him, expecting another smart comment, but he is still attentively looking at the canvas.

Oh my...

Grace holds the gasp in, realizing that the young boy in the portrait is none other than the man standing right beside her. Bruce Wayne, who had lost his parents tragically when he was a young boy, patron of the city and famous playboy. The sight of a young boy crying in front of two gray graves materializes in her mind again.

She gulps.

“Caesar who is a more experienced curator will frame it again and will also take care of the handling of the portrait until it is delivered safely to you.” She further explains, her voice shaking a bit. “It will be as good as new, I promise.”

The handsome man now turns to her and smiles kindly, placing a hand on her arm.

“Thank you for your hard work. Rose assured me that it was being handled by the best hands, but still… ” He moves his head to the side, presses his lips together for a moment and then smiles again. “I wanted to be sure.”

She nods reassuringly.

“I understand.”

Bruce takes his big hand off her arm and places his other atop Damian’s head.

“And again, I hope Damian wasn’t bothering you too much.”

The young boy huffs, crossing his arms and raising one of his eyebrows at his father’s words, either embarrassed or annoyed.

“Not at all.” She looks at both of them with a smirk on her lips. “He seemed to think the same as you.”

Bruce looks down at Damian, who raises his chin almost proudly while staring at the work table and the portrait.

“Though I believe that was just a misconception…” She lowers a bit her torso towards him and smiles truthfully at the young boy. “Right, Damian?”

Now the dark-haired boy turns to look at her, but just as suddenly as he does that, he blushes. Quickly, probably to hide it away, he turns his stare towards the workplace again while his hands move towards his back in a very regal pose.

Then he huffs.

Aw... Adorable.

Bruce looks at him, curiosity now shining in his blue eyes, and then laughs broadly. The man pats ruffles his son’s head.

“He is very much interested in the arts, Miss Henderson.”

Grace finally feels herself relax fully in their presence, her body completely viewing Bruce and Damian Wayne as nonthreatening.

He won't hurt me.

“I assumed as much.” She focuses on Damian, who is looking askance at her, and she smiles again. Grace sees a bit of her in him. “Well, if you ever want to talk about art... You will be more than welcome here.”

That seems to catch his attention. Damian now turns to look at her fully, curiosity shining in his green eyes, and raises his chin as if trying to seem taller.

“I might, though my schedule is usually very full.”

Bruce laughs again while Grace nods –trying very hard to hold a laugh in– at what Damian just said. He sounds like a tiny old man.

“Perfect. And with that settled… we will leave you to your work, miss Henderson.”

She nods again, turning towards Bruce.

“Pleasure to meet you both.”

He nods.

They both leisurely walk towards the exit of the workshop, but while Bruce doesn't look back, Damian looks over his shoulder at her.

Her smile is sweet, waving her hand to say goodbye.

“Bye, Damian.”

He answers with a humph, a pretty blush on his cheeks, and disappears from her sight together with his father.

– – –

The elevator of her apartment complex, one of the many skyscrapers in Gotham City, is probably slower than a snail. She leans back on the mirror, not wanting to see her reflection, and sighs loudly.

As if the elevator would notice her annoyance and decide to finally be quicker.

Her phone vibrates on her hand.

She unblocks it and laughs softly when she reads Harley’s message.

hey hey hey! tonight is the night, right?

I haven’t been this excited since x-mas.

Grace sends a reply as fast as lightning.

Chill, girl. I will be at your house around midnight or so.

A bubble with three periods appears, Harley writing an answer at the moment.

GREAT! I will make margaritas then, to celebrate, ya’ know?!

The dark-haired rolls her eyes, a smirk now plastered on her lips, and the doors of her elevator finally open on her floor. She sees the amazing views, even in the hallway, and her shoulders finally sink. Tonight Grace just wants to have a bubble bath and rewatch her favorite movie, Top Gun, while munching a few snacks.

She pouts while opening her apartment’s door.

But suddenly, when thinking about what she will actually do tonight, the butterflies appear and start flying like crazy in her stomach.

Grace’s mood changes.

She had really missed doing her thing and Harley’s offer was the perfect excuse to finally put on the suit and say goodbye to her boundaries.

Normal is overrated, girl.

The midnight-haired girl writes a quick reply while kicking her shoes off.

Can’t wait!

– – –

The night air is ice cold and furious, smacking on her cheeks nonstop and messing with the hair of her ponytail. Her domino mask is only protecting her eye area, so the other parts of her head are now being subjected to the icy harsh wind and she can’t do anything about it.

Perhaps I should invest in a full-face mask or a helmet…

Nevertheless, despite the cold, she had missed the feeling of her suit on her skin. It is a full-on one, completely black and its texture similar to shiny leather, with a thin Kevlar armor underneath it and a utility belt laying low around her hips. Her high heeled boots and pair of gloves are also the same material as her suit. Furthermore, to conceal her identity, not only does she wear her domino mask but she has also grown her hair to waist length, wearing it in a sleek high ponytail.

Her powers can do wonders.

Thank you, Sir meteorite. The powers you have given me will never cease to amaze me.

She sees a new white van coming, then parking in the big parking lot in front of the warehouse’s main door and four men get off from it.

Black Mask’s warehouse is at Miller Harbor, surrounded by many other storage facilities and storehouses, which makes it quite easy for her. The storage facility in front of the warehouse has four floors, the building a bit higher than other facilities around it, so she has the perfect view of the warehouse and surroundings.

She is sitting on the rooftop’ railing, childishly kicking her feet up and munching the leftovers of kebab, while observing a group of five Black Mask’s thugs unload the truck while two others guard the door.

Mr. Ahmed, I would marry you if I didn’t know you already had a wife; she can’t help but think about the sweet cook. Your kebabs are the reason why I still believe in humanity.

She finishes it and crumples the aluminum foil, making a ball out of it. Then throws it up in the air and waves her hand at it, making it disappear in thin air as if it had never even existed.

Where? It’s better if you don’t ask her.

“Time to play.”

She jumps off the railing and extends her arms, her body pose resembling a cross up in the air, and lets the restraint on her powers go. Grace knows that she won’t break her legs, also very sure that a soft green bluish glow surrounds her, and so she lands gracefully on the ground.

Her high-heeled black boots make its characteristic sound as she calmly walks towards the parking lot and the thugs.

All of these guys are big, as in they probably live in a gym by the day and work here by night type of big. They are all dressed in black, wearing bulletproof vests and military boots in said colors, some even wearing black beanies or gloves due to the cold of October.

However, both the four thugs keep unloading big boxes out of the truck’s onto the pavement and the pair at the main door don’t seem to even register her presence.

“Need a hand, boys?”

All of them look up towards her, two even pulling out handguns while the others pull out knives and where the heck did that guy put a baton off?

“Girl! Get the fuck out of here!”

“Where did she come from!?”

“Get lost or we will fuck you up!”

She laughs sweetly.

“Sorry, no can do.”

And she goes out to town.

Grace runs towards the one closest to her and jumps, her legs enclosing his thick neck, then pulls him towards the ground. She hears the loud sound his head makes when it hits the pavement, but without missing a bit she extends both her arms at her sides, palms up and glowing in her usual color. A wave of power flows through her hands and they fly across the parking lot.

Four down, two left.

“You!” One of the guys at the door says, running towards her with a shotgun in his hands.

She waves a hand, a motion of shooing away, and he collides against the main door.

One left.

Grace calmly walks towards the last one, who is shaking in fear or perhaps because of how cold it is, still guarding the main door despite his buddy being knocked out near it. His aura is shaking like jello. When she stands a few feet away from him, now trying not to laugh at the poor man trying to be brave, he directs the muzzle of his shotgun at her.

“Hello.”

“What… what are you!?”

The raven-haired merely smiles in answer and extends her left hand, the man floating at the speed of light towards her hand, like a magnet attracted to a metal piece.

Grace tightens her hold, now estrangling him while he still floats in the air.

“Where are the explosives?”

He croaks, opening his mouth like a fish a few times, emitting broken sounds.

The raven-haired scrunches her nose, then relaxes her hold on his neck just a bit, easing the flow of air to his lungs so he might talk more easily.

“Where is it?”

He opens and closes his mouth again and again, but no sound comes out from his thin and chapped lips.

“If I… If I tell you, he will kill me!” He cries out, his legs kicking the air uselessly, visibly shaking. “I can’t tell you! I can’t! He will kill me! He will kill my family!”

She grunts a bit, tightening her chokehold on his neck.

“Trust me… If you don’t tell me where it is right now, whatever I do to you will be ten times much worse than what he might do.” Her voice now raised an octave, pushing him through a burst of power to the hard metal doors. Next, she pushes him with each following word for emphasis.“So tell me. Now.”

His mouth keeps opening like a fish but still, no sound comes out of it.

“I see… ” she says, sighing dramatically.

Time to put on a good show.

She closes her eyes and tries to center her powers on only her vision, but her power is too unstable and takes much concentration than that. So she relaxes herself, takes a bit of time, and then the brightness of the glow that surrounds her whole body reaches sun-like-blaze levels. There. Next, while she bites her lips trying to focus much more, she visualizes what she wants to achieve. A few seconds pass and when she finally opens them, she has mastered the brightness and her eyes are now the only thing shinning.

As in shinning as bright as the sun.

But there it is, also that side of her powers that is too untameable or unstable to fully be mastered by her. Grace feels her hair float, almost like there is no gravity surrounding her, which she hadn't meant to do.

Nevertheless, it probably helps her look scary and powerful. So, she tights her choke on his neck.

“One last chance… ” her voice sounds modified, not human at all, which she hadn't meant to do either.

She sees him open his eyes –if it is even possible– much more open than before, sort of like a cartoon character would do. Grace now knows that she looks terrifying with her domino mask with glowing eyes, hair floating around, and a creepy voice.

“No! No! No!” he begs in a yell, still kicking his feet up, completely horrified. “Wait! Wait! Wait, please! I will tell… I will tell you!”

She relaxes a bit her hold.

“They are stored inside three wood boxes... and they have written fragile in red capital letters all over them.” he croaks, and Grace feels every word he says through the palm of her hand. “They are the only ones marked with those words, to differentiate them!”

She nods, registering the information.

“Thank you.”

And she smacks his head hard against the metallic door.

The raven-haired checks the auras of all the thugs scattered around her, to see if they are still unconscious or if there are more out there that she hasn't seen, but what she finds confuses her. There are seven more scattered inside and around the warehouse, but weirdly enough they feel like they are barely there.

Oh, oh. Not good.

This reminds her of the first time she killed someone. When she had her first run with the Serbian Mafia, one of the caporegimes had infuriated her so much that she had just killed him right then and there, on the spot. Despite instantly becoming a target for them. And the feeling… She had felt how the soldier’s aura slowly evaporated into nothingness. Similar to how the light of a bulb diminishes until it completely burns out.

Those auras sort of felt like that.

However, they could probably be saved if she called an ambulance or the police.

What do I do? Should I...?

She sighs, still debating about it, and while opening the door, searches for more auras. Trying to find either a perpetrator or another human being who would help them. However, there aren’t any on the warehouse or its premises.

Weird.

Grace scrunches her nose, overthinking for a few seconds until the thought of them working for Black Mask and probably having done bad things for him makes her decide to just leave their fate to luck.

Screw it.

The raven-haired girl lets her powers surround her, no longer focusing on her eyes, and starts walking inside confidently.

Whatever is inside, it should be scared of me.

The first thing she notices is how the lights are out, which she quickly remedies with a snap of her fingers, then how the whole warehouse is full of thousands of wooden boxes scattered around, though the pillars here and there obstruct her view a bit. The place reminds her of a hangar but without the airplanes and fighter planes.

She groans, cursing herself for not asking where exactly are the boxes placed, and so she starts walking around looking for something red.

No red.

A Subway's meal leftovers.

No red.

Is that a used condom? Ew. Also, no red.

No red.

No red.

A few minutes later, she ends up at the center of the warehouse. The three boxes are stacked up in pairs of two, so the odd one is pilled up with another one without a mark on it. She kneels in front of the regular box, now debating whether to take it with her too or to just do some heavy lifting and stack the odd one with the others, until she feels it.

So bright and warm.

Oh my…

Grace even gasps loudly.

An aura, five feet behind her, burning as bright and fiery as the blazing sun.

It could burn me alive if an aura was even tangible.

She had probably been too immersed in searching for the correct boxes that she hadn’t realized the moment the person had stepped in. Moreover, before going inside, she had checked if there was anyone else around and had come across no one on the premises. So, that person had probably entered when she was looking for her special cargo.

This is Black Mask's fault! Screw him for having his warehouse so disorganized! Didn't his mother ever teach him of keeping his things tidy?!

Grace tries to center herself, not wanting to appear scared or nervous. Then, rising up calmly from her kneeling position, she turns around and comments nonchalantly: “It is considered rude to stare at someone and not greet them.”

Red.

That’s what she first sees.

A man wearing a red helmet, no facial expression on it, with white slits in the form of eyes. He is standing five feet away from her, leaning nonchalantly against a pillar, his arms crossed against his ample chest and with his military tactical boots also crossed at the ankles.

Red?

She scans him while thinking of Gotham's vigilantes and criminals.

Red...

Red...

Red Robin? No, he isn't wearing that weird cape Lisa mentioned.

“Red Hood, I presume?”

He shrugs, all calm but fiery aura.

“In the flesh.”

His voice low and tinted with humor.

Red Hood looks like a brute, as in a big and quite muscular guy. He is wearing a brown leather jacket and underneath it, some sort of black-grey armored under-shirt with a red bat symbol Emblem in the middle of the pectoral area. His black-grey cargo pants are the same color as his undershirt, almost making it look like it's a whole bodysuit, plus also carrying two tactical holsters united in a utility black belt.

Damn, someone doesn’t skip leg day. Those are some big thighs.

His tighs are probably bigger than her head, though she tries not to stare too much.

She probably fails, but whatever.

“Thought you didn’t go around killing people anymore?” she tries to buy time, remembering what Lisa had told her about the vigilante.

She bobs her head to the left, assessing him.

Red Hood. Gun guy. Former Crime Lord, had painted Gotham City red until he had stopped killing and started using the same methods as Batman & Co. Still, too ruthless for my liking. You say his name and everyone shits their pants. A vigilante, but not one you want to meet, unlike Nightwing or Batgirl. From what I heard from one of the police guys at the clinic, he is good in a fight, quite at par with Batman.

He stands up from his position, and while he is looking calm and confident, she can clearly see the signs of him being ready for whatever she is about to do.

“Rough night. Bat can suck it.” his voice is low and clearly electronically modified. Then, he points at her with his black-gloved hand, like a child. “Now, time for you to introdu… ”

She holds her glowing left hand up, interrupting him midsentence.

Then, she runs towards him.

“And you talk about manners…” his annoying voice chastises her, which somehow irks her.

Grace knows she probably won't win against him like this, but he clearly has a big ego and his confidence can be used against him.

Men and their egos.

He effortlessly dodges her first punch, which she knew he would, and she throws another one towards his face. Red Hood merely captures her fist in his gloved hand, a tight hold that almost feels like he will break all her bones, and clucks humorously.

“You suck at fighting, so stick to magic.”

She wants to roll her eyes so badly.

They are pretty close, only a feet apart, and despite her high-heeled boots she still has to look up to see his masked face. It irks her even more, her height is something that has always bothered her.

“Oh… As you wish.”

She smiles prettily while shrugging her shoulders.

One of his feet steps back, his instinct probably screaming at him to pull back and so he tries to pull away, letting go of her fist, but it is already too late.

Got you.

Grace opens her fist up and he starts floating, a feet up in the air, his jacket opening a bit with how fast she elevated him. He has a green bluish glow around him, which is actually what is keeping him up, and she starts to smack the air.

His face turns left and right, clearly feeling her slaps, completely powerless to her ministrations.

“It’s fun, right?” she laughs, though she feels no joy or pleasure from what she is doing. “You should have shot me right when you saw me, Red.”

He grunts but gives no further reaction.

She stops slapping the air and his face stops moving, still motionless and floating in the air. She supposes he is looking at her, after all his red helmet is facing her.

“I heard so much about you.” She stares at those white slits, smiling sweetly at the man. “From what I heard, you painted Gotham City red for a few months. So many fear you… If only they saw you now. Completely powerless.”

The explosives, girl. Focus! she tries to focus on her “mission” and stops mocking him. Right, the explosives.

The raven-haired girl keeps her hand up, keeping him afloat, and turns to the side. She is still able to see him, but now can also clearly see the wooden boxes.

“Who are you?” he asks, humor no longer in his voice. He doesn’t seem scared, which sort of surprises her a bit. “What do you want with Black Mask? What are you doing in Gotham?”

“None of your business, Little Red Riding Hood.” she mocks him, scrunching her nose in annoyance. “Now shut it or I will gag you.”

She raises her other hand and with her open palm, draws an O near where the boxes are located, closing her eyes and furrowing her brows for further concentration. Grace pictures Harley’s house, not the inside of it, but the front door. Just the front door. She hears the wind howling and when she opens her eyes again, inside the perimeter of the O there is the view of Harley’s door.

Grace knows she has a few precious seconds before the portal closes –multitasking was never her forte– and so she quickly directs her palm’s towards the boxes, imagining them floating as if there was no gravity.

“His explosives?” Red Hood grumbles in a low whisper, probably a thought said out loud.

Suddenly, a surge of power in her characteristic color surrounds them and the boxes start floating as Red Hood currently is. Then, they start dancing through the air towards the portal until crossing it and gently settling in the doorstep.

Mission Accomplished.

She snaps her fingers and the portal closes, just as if she had just turned the TV off with a remote.

Now, let's get out of here.

Grace turns around and lowers her other hand. Red Hood slowly starts lowering towards the ground, still surrounded by her power and fully in her control.

The raven-haired girl purses her lips and then smiles, as if a great idea has just come to her.

“Now, would you please sit down like a good boy and let me leave unharmed?” she asks in a pleading mocking tone.

She can imagine him smirking under the helmet while huffing a laugh, despite being at her mercy, and she can feel danger oozing from him.

The man is clearly not scared of her.

And very confident in himself.

“No can do, sweetheart.” his raspy and modified voice almost shocks her.

She walks towards him with a pout on her lips, trying to appear confident when she actually isn’t feeling like that at all, and looks up at him. Grace hopes she looks sort of attractive, or at least cute enough to not make him kill her if she slips and lets him go.

“Pity.” she exaggerates her pout, totally mocking him. “I would have even invited you to a drink or something.”

Wait... why do I sound flirty?

He lowers his head a bit, which to say the least surprises her. He shouldn't be able to move at all, but he has just moved his head, and so she tries to not freak out in front of him. To keep calm and seem confident.

“Let me go.”

She laughs as if that comment is the funniest thing she has ever heard.

“As if I’m that stupid.” she pats his chest with her left hand, leaning into him. “You will turn me into a colander. So, no. Your guns stay where they are. Thank you.”

He lets out a laugh that rumbles through his chest, clearly amused. Grace can even feel it through her gloves and his armored under-shirt, and she tries not to laugh too.

“I could go slow… be gentle.”

She answers with a moan as if the mere idea excites her, and did he just take a small step forward?

He is starting to break through, shit. You should have mind-controlled him, idiot!

“As tempting as that sounds, I will have to pass on that… You see,” She pats his chest for emphasis one last time, nodding along to what she herself just said. Then, she shrugs her shoulders.“I’m an old-fashioned girl, so you would have to take me to dinner first. Perhaps even sweep me off my feet?”

The raven-haired girl turns around and when she is a few feet away, just where the wooden boxes were sitting before, she opens the portal again to Harley’s house. She crosses through it, her footsteps slow but surely, until she no longer is standing inside Black Mask's warehouse but in Harley's doorstep with the four boxes.

Grace proceeds to raise her left hand, as if throwing something over her shoulder, and she doesn't have to turn around to know that the walls close on the Red Hood.

Yet, she still turns around to see. She doesn't know why, but she views as the whole building crumbles in, no sight of Red Hood, who is probably dead or buried underneath all the rubble.

She doesn't feel good.

But she knew he wouldn't let her go, not before probably torturing her or giving her up to Batman or even to the police.

“Goodbye, Red.”